Page 2 of Playing Along

“Okay, but what about your tire back there?” He points behind me. “Looks like it’s flat.”

“Oh.” I laugh shrilly, trying really hard to figure out a way to spin this situation into one where I don’t look like a damsel in distress. Damsels don’t get promoted. “Yes. It is flat, but don’t worry. I’m calling an Uber, and then I’ll call someone tomorrow to come fix it.”

“An Uber?” Ian frowns. “I have to be honest, Nora, I don’t like the idea of one of my female employees waiting for an Uber alone at night.”

Wow. His concern for my safety surprises me. It’s not that Ian is mean per se, but he’s definitely not the knight in shining armor type. He’s too busy working to get ahead to spend much time thinking about the welfare of others. “If something happened to you, that could be bad for the company, you know?” he adds.

Oh. Right. That response makes more sense.

“Don’t worry,” I say again, keeping my smile pasted on. “I’ll get in my car and lock all the doors. Besides, Frank is inside if I need him. That’s what nighttime security is for, right?”

Ian doesn’t look appeased by my response. If anything his frown only deepens.

“Perhaps I should give you a ride home, Nora,” he offers.

“Oh no.” I shake my head. “I don’t want to put you out like that.”

“I insist,” he says with the same tone of finality he uses in company meetings. The one that means, don’t argue with me you inconsequential peons.

“Um, okay then. Thank you.”

Mercifully I’ve managed to get the bandaid on my finger, so at least I’m able to simply hitch my purse higher up on my shoulder and follow him to his sleek car without fear of bleeding all over the leather interior.

Small wins.

He unlocks my door but doesn’t open it. Not that I need a man to open my door for me; but every time one doesn’t, it makes me think of Jack. He always opened doors for me then joked that it was just so he could check out my butt when I walked by.

He was such a flirt…and I loved it.

I never felt as good about myself as I did when I was dating Jack.

How pathetic is that?

I watch as Ian pauses in front of the car, fiddling with his phone screen then lifting it to his ear. He chats with whoever he just called for a few minutes before finally getting in.

“So, whereabouts are we headed?” he asks as he starts his car, smirking at the purr of the engine.

“I basically live straight north of here,” I tell him. “Turn left and just keep driving.” He nods and we set off.

I feel uncomfortable here in this tiny space with my boss, like I need to fill the silence, but also don’t want to risk saying anything that will negatively affect his opinion of me. So I make the safe play and compliment his car.

“This a beautiful car you’ve got yourself,” I say, running an appreciative hand over the leather.

“You like it, do you?” Ian grins over at me. “I knew you were a woman of good taste. Expensive taste.”

A new sense of unease twists my insides. I do not like the implication of his words or the way his gaze lingers on my bare legs.

He’s going to hit on me, which means bye-bye promotion. There's no way he’ll give me the job after I turn him down. The unfairness of the situation burns across my chest.

“Nora, you’re quite an ambitious woman,” Ian goes on, resting his elbow in the center console so that his fingertips are within touching distance of my legs. “I like that about you.”

Bile rises in my throat. This is happening. There’s no way around it. Unless…An idea born of desperation bursts out of me.

“Actually,” I interrupt him, “would you mind dropping me by my boyfriend’s place instead?”

“Boyfriend?” His attention fixates on the exact word I was hoping it would.

“Yes,” I chirp. “I have a boyfriend.”

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