The Hookup Handbook(10)
The two of them launch into a conversation about the book, which seems like a good opportunity for me to make good on that cup of coffee I claimed to be getting. I go to the fridge and extract a container of cream.
Although Case turned down my offer for coffee, I remember what he said about this job getting tiring, and I brew him a cup anyway. He probably needs every ounce of caffeine he can get. I’ve been so in my head about how weird and awkward Case’s job is that I haven’t once stopped to consider that it must take a lot out of him. He’s not just some arrogant fucking machine. He’s a human being. He might even have a heart in there somewhere.
When I return to Case’s office, a full mug in each hand, Nic is already halfway out the door. He gives me a quick “nice to meet you” as we pass each other on my way in to set the coffees down, one on my desk, and one on Case’s.
“Did I ask for coffee? I don’t think I did.”
“No. But I figured you could use it. You must have been up early.” I shuffle back to my desk and settle into my chair to take my first sip.
Case does the same, pressing his mug against his lower lip and taking a slow, satisfied sip before shifting back into work mode. “Did you finish sorting through those budget reports yesterday?”
“I did. And actually, I wanted to ask you about something I noticed in those files. I didn’t know you made such a solid philanthropic contribution every year.”
This is a bit of a lie. I did see the reports, but that isn’t what has me so curious about Case’s philanthropy. It seems safer to leave out the fact that my interest budded from some light internet stalking.
“I try to contribute where I can,” he says, his tone far humbler than I was expecting.
“What kind of organizations do you support?”
Case cocks one eyebrow. He’s clearly confused by my sudden interest in his charitable side.
“I took a class in corporate philanthropy,” I say quickly. Another lie. “You know, for my business degree?” Case’s expression relaxes, and so do I.
“It’s really just one organization in the arts. My company is a major contributor to a ballet studio across town. The owner is a friend of mine.”
“That’s really cool. I love dance.”
I can practically feel the twinkle appearing in my eye, and Case notices immediately. He turns away from his computer screen and gives me his full attention, and for once, he isn’t trying to knock me over with that unforgiving stare. His expression is softer, calmer.
“That’s right, Ryder mentioned once you were a ballerina or something, weren’t you?”
My cheeks heat up, the flush spreading down to my chest. “I would hardly call myself that. More of a retired dancer at this point. It was my minor in college. Although I would be dancing all the time if I could be.”
“Then why aren’t you?” His brows pull together as though he’s trying to figure me out. For the first time since I started working here, he’s showing genuine interest in me.
It’s day four on this job—am I really about to spill my guts to my boss? Then again, I did just listen to him spill his guts to Nic. Maybe if I’m more vulnerable with him, he’ll be more human with me.
I drum my fingers nervously against the side of my coffee mug. “Have you ever seen a ballerina with curves?”
Case shoots me a puzzled look. “Is that a rhetorical question?”
I shrug, taking a sip of coffee. “I was a great dancer. I still am. But I’ve never had a dancer’s body. I’m not nearly thin enough. Casting directors would see my body and not even give me the time of day to dance for them, so what’s the point?”
Case nods, but the silence between us is more uncomfortable than these heels. I should have kept my mouth shut about this.
“Anyway,” I blurt, steering the conversation anywhere but here, “we should get to work on your book if you’re ever going to make your deadline.”
“You’re right,” Case says. “I’ve got a chapter for you to proofread now.”
“Finally, some real work,” I tease.
Case cracks a half smile as he shifts his attention back to his computer. It’s silent again, a more comfortable silence, as he clicks his mouse a few times. “Thanks again for your help.”
Another thank-you? I must be doing something right.
“For what it’s worth,” he says, his gaze firmly locked on his computer monitor, “I think your body is perfect.”
A wave of unexpected heat darts through me at his low words, and my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth as I struggle to respond to his compliment. But luckily, I’m saved from saying anything further, because Case chooses that moment to stand and suddenly crosses the office to set his laptop on my desk.
“Here’s what I’ve got so far.”
On the screen it says CHAPTER ONE. I scan the page briefly, and it takes me a second to realize that he’s showing me his book.
My gaze darts up to his. “Great. I’ll read it and give you my thoughts.”
He nods and then returns to his desk while I dive in.
Soon I’m several pages in, and my heart is beating steadily as I read. I expected some sort of macho bullshit, patting himself on the back or bragging about all his conquests. I expected a Mr. Know-It-All on the topic of sex, but this is none of that.