Not Safe for Work (11 page)

Being awake meant I could work. Working meant getting done. And getting done meant being with Rick.

Soon. God, please, soon
.

* * * * *

Irritation kept me going for a couple of hours. A nap followed by a metric fuckload of caffeine carried me for a couple more. After another dinner from a machine—if I never saw another Dorito again, it would be too soon—I threw back a 5-Hour and settled in to get back to work.

I opened a tube of glue, and the fumes smacked me in the face. My eyes watered and my head spun. Cursing, I rubbed my eyes with my other hand. I was used to the potent glue fumes, but fatigue made me more sensitive to them, and they compounded the headache that had already set up shop between my temples.

I put the cap on the glue, then went to my desk. I rested my elbows beside my keyboard and rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands. Just one or two more days, and this would be over. The throbbing behind my eyes dulled slightly, but when I opened them, it intensified all over again. So I closed them. Folded my arms on the desk. Rested my head on my arms. Just for a few…

“Jon?”

Blinking, I raised my head.

“You okay?” Marie asked.

I nodded and leaned back in my chair, twisting a crick out of my neck and rubbing my eyes with my thumb and forefinger. “Just tired.”

“So go home and get some sleep.”

I scratched my stubbled jaw. I’d grabbed another shower and a change of clothes a few hours ago, along with a much-needed shave, but the five-o’clock shadow was already creeping back in. As was any exhaustion I might have cured with my little catnap.

How long was I out anyway?

I looked around, trying to find the clock. The clock that was in the same place it always was. Christ, I’d been out for an hour and a half. No, half an hour. Right?

Marie gave me a pointed look. “Jon, you need to go home and get some rest.”

“But I have got to finish this thing.” I yawned and rubbed my eyes.

“Are you okay to drive?”

I sighed. “Probably not.”

“Then you have no business anywhere near this model.”

“I’m fine.” I cocked my head. “What are you doing here this late, anyway?”

“You’re not the only one burning the midnight oil these days, you know. I was actually just about to head home, but I thought I’d check on you.”

I offered a sheepish look. “And you busted me asleep at the switch.”

She laughed. “After this long, you were bound to crash eventually. Need some coffee?” It was funny how she could be such a ball-buster—she had to be in this place—but actually had a compassionate side. God help her if the partners ever realized she secretly treated us like human beings sometimes.

I stretched my sore arms. “I don’t think cocaine would even wake me up at this point, but yeah, I could—”

“What you need is sleep.” She nodded toward the door. “Come on. I’ll drive you home.”

“I’ll be fine. I’m almost done.”

“Jon, if you push yourself much further, you’re going to start hallucinating.”

There was no point in protesting. I was surprised I
hadn’t
started hallucinating, so I stood and pulled my jacket off the back of my chair. The simple act of putting it on took more effort than usual. The jacket suddenly weighed fifty pounds.
Damn, I
am
tired
.

Marie was more coherent than I was, so I took her up on the offer of a ride home. The drive was a blur of streetlights and darkness. I must have nodded off a dozen times, and probably would have slept the whole way had it not been for the blasting air-conditioning and radio. I didn’t object to either; those were to keep my boss awake long enough to get me home in one piece.

After she’d dropped me off, I managed to get my shirt and shoes off, then collapsed into bed, and that was it. I sank into blissful darkness.

Darkness that was peppered by images of foam-core, X-ACTO knives, drawings, and the smell of glue and coffee, but darkness nonetheless.

Chapter Sixteen

The night off was helpful, but there was still work to be done. The next afternoon, after a solid ten hours of sleep, I returned to the NSFW Zone with a cup of coffee and a fresh case of 5-Hour Energy.

And the second I looked at the unfinished model, the caffeine jumped ship and my body threatened to collapse all over again. Fuck. Right then and there, I promised myself an actual vacation as soon as this chaos was over. I
was
getting too old for this shit.

But for now, it had to be done, so I sucked it up, sucked down some coffee and got to work.

My current model, a 1:10 scale likeness of the library going up downtown—assuming the city council approved the project and its budget—was nearly finished. The interior was done. I barely remembered putting in all the miniature bookcases, and I had to double-check I’d express-ordered the tiny tables and chairs from the dollhouse supplier we used for furniture that was too time-consuming to build. I had in fact placed the order, so I focused on the exterior. Specifically, the courtyard area.

As I fitted the foam-core piece that would represent the cobblestone patio, my phone buzzed on my desk, and my stomach fluttered. Though I texted with other people, I knew it was him. My kids were either still asleep or in class at this time of day, and Karen never texted me from work. Which left…

Hear you had some time off. Feeling better?

I wrote back,
Almost human again. Will be much better once I’ve spent some time with you.

I stared at my message for a moment. Was that too forward? Did it sound too much like I was getting too into this? Too attached? Too—

Shit. My thumb had been hovering a little too close to the send button, and while I’d been overanalyzing my message like a teenager, I’d tapped it. Well, there it went.

I put my phone down beside the miniature patio. Before I’d even picked up the X-ACTO to shave off a tiny irregularity on the edge of the foam-core, my phone vibrated again.

Looking forward to it. *I’LL* be much better once we’ve spent time together.

I blinked a few times. No, it wasn’t my sleep-deprived brain rearranging the letters.

Let’s hope it’ll be soon,
I wrote back.
I need it.

Fingers crossed. GTG mtg
.

Another meeting? Jesus. I did not envy him. I only had to suffer through a few every week, but his job seemed to be one after another. I had no idea how the man stayed sane.

My eyes darted toward his earlier message.

Looking forward to it. *I’LL* be much better once we’ve spent time together.

Ah. That explained it. No wonder he needed a Dom—getting topped and tormented probably shook all that death by PowerPoint out of him. Whatever the case, I was happy to give it to him. All the more reason to finish this fucking model ASAP.

“Hey, Jon,” Teagan said after a while. “Could I borrow you for a second?”

“Sure.” I set my pieces down and moved to her table. “What do you need?”

She held up a piece of the model’s roof. “Could you just hold this while I attach the brackets?”

“No problem.” I steadied the edges of the roof gently while she guided the piece into place. Once it was where she wanted it, I held it more firmly.

She picked up a thin wire bracket she’d made. It was one of her little innovations for modeling—carefully fitted and virtually invisible braces instead of cementing the whole roof into place. They made it easier to remove the roof if she needed to, and also provided some give in case the materials warped.

As she slid the first bracket into its place with a set of needle-nose pliers, she said, “Get any sleep last night?”

“More than I have in a while. You?”

She nodded. “It was nice to see my man for more than ten minutes too.” Her eyes flicked up, a piercing glittering in the overhead light. Voice low and discreet, she asked, “Did you have any, um, company?”

“Company? What are you—”

“Oh for God’s sake.” She laughed, rolling her eyes, and shifted her attention back to the thin brace. “You got laid. I know you.”

“What? How the hell do you—”

“You’re running on almost no sleep, with the partners and Marie breathing down your neck, and you haven’t made any noise about committing homicide. So are—oh, you little fucker…” She leaned in closer, scowling at the piece, and gave it a shove.

“Doesn’t fit?”

“No, it fits. It’s just—there it goes.” She nudged it once more. When it was apparently where it belonged, she started on the next bracket. “Anyway. So things must be going well with her?”

Oh hell. Why not? “So far, so good. But no, I didn’t get laid. We’re just making plans for my next day off. So I can finally spend some time with—” I caught myself before I used “him” and quickly said, “So we can spend some time together.”

“I’m sure.” Her eyes flicked up again, and she smiled. “I have to say, she really brings out an adorable side of you, you know that, right?”

I glanced at our coworkers, making sure they weren’t listening in. They were preoccupied with a lively conversation about something, so I turned back to her. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about that silly little smile you keep getting when I assume you’re thinking about her or sending her millions of texts. And when I mention her, apparently.”

“What are you—” Whoa. She was right, wasn’t she? I was grinning like an idiot and hadn’t even realized it. I cleared my throat and put on a poker face. “Hey, I haven’t been with anyone in a while. It’s…a nice switch.”

“A nice switch?” She laughed, focusing on guiding the bracket into place. “I know you, Jon. A ‘nice switch’ was when you were getting laid a few months ago and looked like a giddy idiot.” She gestured at me with the pliers. “This? I think you like doing more than just rolling in the sheets with her.” Her eyes darted toward our coworkers as if she worried she’d spoken too loudly. Quieter now, she added, “Is it serious?”

Her expression dared me to challenge her. And in any other situation, I might have, but I was having a hell of a time coming up with any arguments.

So, I just shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe? Eventually? It’s still a new thing.”

“Well, it’s a cute thing, and it keeps you from being grumpy. So, I approve.”

I laughed, rolling my eyes. “Gee, thanks, T.”

“Any time.” She put the third bracket into place. “Okay, I think it’s solid now. Thanks.”

“No problem.” I let go of the model’s roof. She tested it, and sure enough, it wasn’t going anywhere now. There were still half a dozen brackets left to put on, but she didn’t need help keeping it still, so I went back to my own model.

My conversation with Teagan echoed in my head as I carefully measured and marked a new piece of foam-core that would be the parking lot beside the library I was building. I always felt weird pretending to be dating a woman when I was with a man, and every single time, I weighed whether it was worth just coming out and, well, coming out. No one in this room would’ve been obnoxious about it. But coming out was never easy, especially as I got older.

This time, though, I wasn’t hung up on whether or not to come out, but what she’d said about things getting serious with “her”. Mostly because I couldn’t argue. Mentally I tried, but I couldn’t.

Maybe she was right, and Rick really did make me grin like an idiot without even realizing it. Normally, I’d have resisted and protested for as long as I had plausible deniability—
we’re not serious!
—and once that ran out,
then
I’d admit it. No rushing in. Not for this guy.

But any attempts to deny it to myself didn’t even make sense. It was still too early to tell. I barely knew him. Still, even after just a couple of weeks together and almost as much time spent hanging on my texts and surreptitious glances, Rick was farther under my skin than he should’ve been. In any other situation, that would’ve made me panic, and I’d have backed off, but…not this time. Back off? Forget it. I was getting in over my head and enjoying every second of it.

And as soon as I had some time off, I fully intended to dive in again.

* * * * *

At the vending machine for my forty-eighth Red Bull since breakfast, I was counting out a buck twenty-five when sharp footsteps erased my entire brain. Half the people in this building wore suits to work, so dress shoes were hardly unusual, but something about the gait, the way the hard soles clicked on the laminate, told me this wasn’t just anyone.

They stopped behind me.

“Feeling better?” Rick’s voice made my skin tingle.

I turned around and nodded. “Amazing what a little sleep can do.”
After a little time with you, I’ll be—oh God. This is that smile Teagan keeps talking about, isn’t it?

“All-nighters
are
a bitch,” Rick said.

“Says the man who’s the reason I keep having to pull all-nighters.”

Rick’s eyebrows rose. “Are these… I mean, are these
only
Horizon projects?”

“Uh, well.” I cleared my throat. “Not all. Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“No, it’s okay. But seriously—are they working you into the ground on my company’s behalf?”

I exhaled, regretting my ill-judged joke. “Not always. But we have yours, and we have others, so if anything’s a rush, or we get backed up…” I shrugged.

“Hmm.” He pursed his lips.

“It’s okay. It’s kind of feast or famine. We’re used to it.”

Rick shook his head. “No, I don’t want you killing yourself over this stuff because of my company, and I’ve explained that to your bosses already.”

“It’s my job. Don’t worry about it.”

He held my gaze, lips taut. Then he nodded down the hall. “Well, I won’t keep you, and I have to get to a meeting myself. Don’t work yourself into the ground, okay?”

“That goes for you too. You’re going to need your energy once they turn me loose.”

His eyebrows shot up, and he gulped.

“Get to your meeting,” I said in my Dom voice, and tamped down a laugh when he jumped. “We’ll get together soon.”

“Can’t wait,” he said in a hoarse whisper, and as he turned to go, I licked my lips and went back to counting out change so I could get that Red Bull that suddenly didn’t seem quite so necessary.

More footsteps. This time, I cursed soundlessly. I was so not in the mood for—

“Mr. McNeill.” Mitchell huffed behind me. “We have talked about this.”

I turned around and didn’t bother playing stupid. “He was just asking how I was doing.”

Mitchell stiffened and his eyes widened, and I had to replay what I’d just said to be sure I hadn’t really told him that Rick had expressed how much he wanted to get back in bed with me. I was pretty sure I hadn’t, though. Right?

I cleared my throat. “He thought I was out sick. So he asked how I was doing, said he was glad to see I was all right, and that was the end of it.”

Mitchell held my gaze, suspicion etched all over his lined face. Finally, he grunted, “Keep it that way,” and stalked off with no further comment, no further question.

I ground my teeth. Motherfucker.

I finally got my Red Bull and headed back toward the Zone. It had always annoyed the hell out of me that the partners were so particular about us speaking to clients, especially the rich and powerful ones. God forbid they come in contact with the great unwashed and decide Mitchell & Forsythe wasn’t as elite and mighty as they’d thought.

I snickered to myself. Oh, how my crew and I could horrify clients if we were so inclined. We never would, of course, but it was entertaining to imagine clients coming into contact with our daily antics. I could just imagine.

In the Zone, I downed my Red Bull and got back to work. Fatigue and urgency aside, it was a normal day, more or less. Building, drafting, bantering and my coworkers occasionally catching me spacing out. They cautiously blamed it on my advanced age or fantasizing about Cal’s mom instead of my recent long hours.

I didn’t correct them. What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt me.

* * * * *

Teagan and I had just come back from lunch, and had resumed our umpteenth hour of balls-to-the-wall work when the music suddenly shifted to
The Imperial Death March
again.

Teagan made a sound that was halfway between a sob and a curse.

I dropped my X-ACTO knife and stood to stretch my aching back. What
now
?

As Marie walked into the Zone, my hackles went up, but to my surprise, she said, “Jon, Teagan, you’re both off for the rest of the day.”

I blinked. Teagan looked at me, confusion written all over her features.

“But it’s not even noon,” I said.

“I know.” She smiled. “But you’ve both earned it. You’ve got a lot of work left to do over the next week or so, and we’ve got some new projects coming down the pipe.”

“But…” Teagan gestured at her model. “But we’ve still got—”

“You can pick it up tomorrow. In fact, you’re both off for the next two days. I want you both well-rested.”

Teagan and I exchanged wide-eyed glances. Then we both shrugged and stepped away from our modeling tables. I didn’t know if this was Rick’s doing, or if the powers-that-be had suddenly grown a mercy bone, but should I look this gift horse in the mouth?

Teagan apparently didn’t feel the need to. Throwing a “Thanks, boss!” over her shoulder, she headed for the door, half sprinting out into the hallway as if she thought Marie was a few seconds away from rescinding our parole.

I picked up my water bottle and keys. “You’re sure about this?”

Marie glanced after Teagan and shrugged. “Well, unless you can catch her…”

I laughed. “I head out that way, I’m not coming back.”

“Good. Enjoy the time off. Get some rest and recharge.”

“But, I could’ve sworn you—”

“McNeill! What are you doing?” Scott waved his arms toward the door. “You’ve got the day off. Go!”

Marie laughed. “He’s got a point.”

“Noted. I’m out of here.”

In the elevator on the way down to the parking garage, I pulled out my phone, and a text from Rick had come through.