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With the morning I had, I should’ve known shit was going to go awry.
It had started off perfect, too perfect.
Something I’d learned since I started waking up next to Nebraska—first thing in the morning she was sweet.
Drowsy, cuddly, and sweet.
Now that I took full advantage of—giving her soft and slow in the morning, taking my time, giving her intimacy while at the same time giving it to myself. Quiet, easy, closeness. Things I reckoned she’d never had. Things I didn’t allow myself to take with the life I’d led and the suggestion of what that kind of closeness would imply.
But Nebraska was different.
I wanted the closeness and all that it implied. I wanted the quiet, easy times when it was about losing myself in the moment. It was about touch and feel. It was about using my body, hands, lips to deliver a message. It was about affection—something else that Nebraska had never experienced.
Early morning was when her guard was down. By the time she got a cup of coffee in her, she slipped right back into who she’d been taught to be. The walls came up and the mask was firmly in place. She stayed that way until I got her alone and in bed again.
Night and day.
Around Smith she was all-business. Period. A few of her fake smiles, but even those were rare.
So, yeah, I should’ve known she was going to close up tight the second we were back up in the office. I’d fucked up and was unprepared, but even if I would’ve planned accordingly I still would’ve vastly miscalculated her response.
It had started in the Escalade. The closer we got to office the worse it got. As soon as the elevator doors closed us into the lift she looked like she was going to come out of her skin.
I caught Smith’s eye. His gaze flicked to Nebraska standing between and just in front of us, then back to me.
He didn’t miss it.
Not that you could.
Whatever was eating at her occupied the air around her.
The doors opened and Nebraska hustled out. Before she could turn toward the hall to the conference room I nabbed her hand. Her reaction was over the top. Not only did she startle to the point her body jerked, she also attempted to yank her hand free.
“We’ll be right in,” I told Smith. I tightened my grip and damn near dragged her to my office.
Without further protest she followed.
This was my first warning shit was not right. Nebraska had no issue voicing her opinion.
As soon as we cleared the threshold of my office I released her hand and shut the door.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
She was looking me dead in the eye but she was totally vacant.
What the fuck?
“Straight up, baby, I’m not stupid. If your body language and silence wasn’t obvious, which, I hate to break it to you, you’re not hiding there’s something wrong. You using woman-code for ‘back the fuck up, I’m gonna throat punch you’ would’ve done it.”
Her eyes got squinty.
But no right eye twitch.
Again, what the fuck?
“For your information, Mr. Smarty Pants, the woman-code word for ‘back the fuck up before you get throat punched’ is ‘you’re right’. Which means ‘you’re wrong, but we’re over it’, and the next step is physical violence. Nothing means nothing.”
