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Multiple things happen at once.
First, the shoulder strap from my laptop bag slides down my arm and hooks itself over Thomas’s outstretched hand.
Two, the elevator doors open.
And three, unprepared for how heavy my bag is, the weight of it jerks Thomas down by his arm. His head nearly collides with mine as I step back, pressing against the elevator wall, trying to keep my latte from spilling by holding my arm out wide and out of the way. Which causes Thomas to fall further into me, his other hand, not caught in the strap, rising in an effort to brace himself.
On my boob.
“Bell?”
Simultaneously, Thomas and I turn our heads toward Chase, standing right outside the elevator doors with a confused look on his face, taking in the scene before him.
Which is basically Thomas plastered to my front, hand on my boob, our mouths inches away from each other.
I can’t make this up.
“You…?” I can see the moment Chase’s imagination turns this into something it’s not.
“No. Chase, I—”
His laughter ricochets inside the small metal box, sounding hoarse and broken.
“This just figures, doesn’t it?”
Thomas manages to shake off the strap anchoring his wrist down and stands up straight. I clear my throat, alerting him to the fact that he’s still holding my boob.
“Oh. Apologies.” He frees my breast and turns to his brother. “Chase, I’m here—”
Expression dark, Chase interrupts. “Save it. I know why you’re here.”
I push off the wall, sliding one hand out to stop the doors from closing on us, the other still wrapped around my now regrettable second latte. “You do?”
Chase ignores me. “Well, you can have it.” His eyes focus on Thomas. “I quit.”
“What? No,” I start just as Thomas says, “Chase, please let me—”
“Thomas!”
Both Thomas and I jump at Stan Moore’s voice.
“Father?” Thomas looks past Chase.
“Knew you’d come around, my boy. Come on, we have to…” Stan’s voice fades and his eyes narrow when he sees me. “What are you doing here?”
My eyes narrow right back. “I work here.”
“No, you don’t.” A sly smile spreads across his face. “You’re fired.”
Chase stiffens. “You can’t do that, old man. There’s a legally binding contract between King Marketing and Moore’s.”
“Well now. Seeing how this one”—he jerks his thumb toward me— “probably earned that contract on her knees, I don’t think I’ll have a problem dissolving it.”
Chase shifts toward his father, pulling his arm back. Quickly, I grab hold of his sleeve. “That’s a bit hypocritical of you, isn’t it?” I snap at Stan. “Seeing that you’ve been having an affair with Denise Hampson this whole time.”
Everyone goes still.
Fuck. I hadn’t meant to say that.
