“There are?—”
“Plenty of people who can do that, yes, yes, but everyone is busy, unless, of course, you want me to pull them away from their jobs while you sit around and glare at the computer screen.”
“I don’t like you much.”
“You love me.”
“And I don’t like him.”
“Honey, you don’t like anyone, so forgive me if I don’t take that seriously.”
“Can someone else just…find a fucking minute? I’m busy.”
She snorted. “If you’re jerking off, just say so.”
I groaned, muttering under my breath. “Oh, if only you’d pickedanythingelse to say.”
Cait shot me a curious look as Xander’s snarl came through the speaker, as clear and furious as ever. “Find someone else to fucking do it!”
Her curious look lingered on me for a moment before turning back to the intercom and hitting it again. “And if a call comes in because I’m out being a tour guide instead of your connection to the outside world all because you want to be a grumpy asshole? What then?”
“Goddammit,” he snarled, and I watched the light that signaled their connection go dead.
“Do Mika and Reno a favor and go meet the asshole at the back door,” she said with a snort, then leaned over to grab something out of a mini-fridge.
“Not that I object to helping people, especially the ones I’m going to be working alongside for a long period, but, uh…what about doing myself a favor after he was already pissed off?” I wondered faintly.
“You give him this, and leave him to get dressed and come back, and he’ll still be grumpy and miserable, but he’ll be less likely to take your head off,” she said, handing me a small bottle.
I held it up; it was larger than a double shot but smaller than a pint, and squinted at the writing. “Is…you’re giving me booze to bribe him?”
“I’m giving you Japanese whiskey,” she said lightly.
“You know what? I realize that is significant to you, and probably to him, but I’m staring at a clear liquid, confused that it’s considered whiskey, but that it’s somehow enough to makehimback off from ripping my head off,” I told her uneasily. “I trust you, I really do, but uh?—”
“That’s what they’re calling it,” she said with a shrug. “Dunno if it actually is whiskey or not; it’s not my job to follow up and make sure. All I know is what it’s called, and I know Xander is fond of trying higher-priced liquors, especially if they’re whiskey. Don’t ask me. That little bottle is worth a pretty penny, though, so make sure he gets it in one piece.”
“Uh, sure,” I said, backing out of her office as I heard a grunt of pain from the kitchen.
Shaking my head, I made my way toward the back entrance, only realizing I was still in my underwear and shirt when I stepped through the first set of doors. The chill in the air thickened as the doors closed behind me, and icy fingers spreadover the soles of my feet. I considered backing up and putting on something a little more appropriate for the temperature, but a glance through the outside door told me it was too late if I didn’t want Xander coming all the way into the building.
His head was bowed as he grabbed a door to swing it open, releasing more cool air into the entryway and making me shiver. It was difficult to keep myself in check as I watched his fingers close over the door handle and could see his arms flex as he pulled because apparently he couldn’t feel the chill in the air and was only wearing a short-sleeved shirt. The memory of him glaring at me while I stood there like an idiot with my dick in my hands was at the front of my thoughts and I jerked it back before I started entertaining the fantasy that the cantankerous but exceptionally good-looking man in front of me had chosen to help me with my ‘problem’ rather than chew me out.
He came to a stop, head snapping up when he saw me standing there. His eyes went wide, and for a moment he wasn’t the scowling man I had dealt with yesterday. In fact, the surprise made him look younger than before, and I realized he wasn’t much older than me, ten years at most. His eyes roved my body, and I ignored the tingle of anticipation because my horny brain needed to listen to my logical brain and understand that my boss would probably rather beat me than beat me off.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he growled.
“I was told to deliver this immediately and then worry about dressing for the weather,” I informed him, holding up the bottle.
Somehow, his frown deepened as he stared at the bottle and reached out in the same way someone would reach for something that might explode at any moment. It was a little dramatic, but eventually he took it, looking it over. I could see the minute it registered what he was looking at as his fingers flexed and the annoyance on his face weakened to what I deemed normal.
“She actually got a bottle,” he muttered. “I’ll be damned. Now I’m going to have to return the favor.”
“You could always share with her,” I offered.
He shook his head. “That woman doesn’t drink liquor. Only beer. And before you get any ideas about being helpful, it’s all piss beer. If there’s an I, a P, or an A involved, or any word involving ‘micro’, she’ll turn her nose up at it and judge you.”
“You know, it’s not all that surprising that…yeah, that fits,” I said with a snort, crossing my arms. “But, uh, having completed my duty, I’m going to go put on clothes before the important bits get cold.”