It Started in June by Susan Kietzman

Author:Susan Kietzman [Kietzman, Susan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2018-03-12T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 31

When Bradley walked into Grace’s office, she grinned at him. “Oh, it looks like someone had a fun night.”

“I did,” said Bradley. “We watched TV, ate pizza, drank Cokes, and went to bed by ten.”

Grace laughed. “You are so hungover.”

Bradley, who had been grossed out in the car by the smell of his breath, still rancid after he had brushed his teeth three times, thought he had put himself together pretty nicely. “It’s that obvious?”

“Let’s see,” said Grace, getting up from her office chair and walking around the desk. “Slightly puffy face, suit that looks like you slept in it, and you’re sweating.” She put her hands on his hips and pecked his lips with hers. “And really, really bad breath.” Bradley opened his mouth to respond. “Oh, I’d keep that closed if I were you,” she said, putting her fingers over his mouth.

Bradley gave her a stern look. “You’re just jealous that I was out having a good time and you were stuck at home on the couch.”

Grace stroked her chin. “Oh, I am something,” she said, “but it’s definitely not jealous!” She laughed again. “I feel terrific this morning, and you look—and smell—like you don’t.”

Bradley ran his hands through his hair. “Maybe only you can tell?”

Grace walked back around her desk to her chair and sat down. “I don’t think so,” she said, grinning. “The stench coming from your mouth and out of your pores got to my office ten seconds before you walked in the door.”

“You’re hilarious,” said Bradley, turning to go, needing more Advil. “Hilarious.”

She said to his retreating back, “We have a meeting at two.”

Bradley offered Grace a limp wave in response and walked out of her office and down the short hallway to his work station. On his desk was a large Dunkin’ Donuts coffee and a bag holding a honey-dipped cruller, his favorite. Sitting underneath the bag was a pink Post-it note, on it a heart drawn in red, thin-lined marker. Bradley put half the doughnut in his mouth, holding onto it with his lips, so he could remove his suit coat. He draped it over the back of his chair, sat down, and finished the cruller while he opened his e-mail. The highlighted blue message on top was from Rachel: Are you free for lunch?

Bradley typed back: Sorry, no.

Her reply was instantaneous: We need to talk.

Bradley sat back in his chair and interlaced his fingers behind his head. What could he say to make her go away? She was a nice girl. She was a pretty girl. But he was with Grace. And he had to let Rachel know that her sexual advances from this moment forward would go unreturned. On this particular morning, however, he had zero interest in talking to her; he sought quiet. He leaned forward and reached into his desk drawer for his Advil. He swallowed three tablets with his coffee, and then shifted his gaze back to his computer screen. I’m slammed this week, he typed. Let’s have lunch next week.

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