Ash to Steele (29 page)

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   Morning comes way too soon.  The sun shining through the slit in my curtains blinds me and I throw the pillow over my head groaning.  Rolling out of bed, I put a water resistant bandage over the gauze covering my tattoo before stepping into the shower.  It was hard to see what it will look like after the puffy redness goes away, but I was impressed by what I did see. 

   There are several things I love about my new apartment, the shower going as hot as I like is right at the top of my list.  Having to work longer hours is worth it with the added amenities; I just hope I can pull enough extra projects at Shallonelles to cover what I made at the gallery.  The only good things about having to work on Sunday are how I don’t have to follow the dress code and how Mr. Harris won’t be there. 

   The office is dead except for a few editors.  Designing ads is my least favorite task of being a graphic designer, but having the freedom to create them anyway I want makes it bearable.  I’m actually excited about the digital media designs I’ve been playing with and am buried in testing color schemes with the graphics when Braden places a cup of iced mocha next to me. 

   “How long have you been here, Emma?” he asks, leaning over my shoulder to take a look at my design in progress. 

   “Since 7:00 a.m.”  Taking an appreciative sip of the coffee, I lean back in my chair and rub my eyes. 

   “I bet you haven’t stopped, except for lunch, since you got here,” he softly admonishes, bumping my shoulder.  “Your hard work is paying off, Emma.  One of the executives in Marketing has noticed your designs and wants to give you a web design project.  You would have to create the website from scratch.  Are you interested?”

   “Are you serious?” I ask, excited and relieved with the project that will bring in more than four of the ad projects combined, “I would love the opportunity.” 

   “I have a feeling I might be losing you to another department soon,” he teases, but there’s an edge of disappointment in his eyes.  “Let me take you out to dinner to celebrate.”

   “Thank you, Braden, but I can’t.  Breck is picking me up in a few.”   

   “Another day, then.”  Braden takes a second look at the ad I’m working on, “I like the blue better than the red.”

   “Me, too,” I agree, looking at the two designs side by side.  Tweaking the hue of the blue, I add a bit more depth and fade the shades from dark to light throughout the dimensions.  

   Braden places his hand over mine, playing with the graphics.  His chest brushes against my shoulder, and I lean forward, slipping my hand out from underneath his.  His advances aren’t forceful and he never makes me feel threatened.  I have no doubt that he will never hurt me, but it’s still uncomfortable. 

   “I’m going to stretch my legs a bit,” I mumble my excuse to step away from him.

   “I’m really proud of you, Emma,” Braden praises, pulling me in for a quick hug when I stand. 

  My body immediately stiffens and I push away.  “Thank you, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to – um -”

   “What she’s trying to say is that she doesn’t want you touching her,” Breck finishes my sentence as he storms towards us.  His jaw is clenched and I know that look in his eyes. 

  Stepping in between the two, I glare at Breck, silently warning him to back off. 

   “I was just congratulating Emma on a new project that could land her in a very coveted position in our field,” Braden states, placing his hand on my shoulder, obviously feeling a bit too brave on his own turf, mistakenly thinking Breck cares where he’s at. 

   “You can congratulate Emma without putting your damn hands on her,” Breck barks, glowering at him. 

   “Stop it, Breck!” I snap.

   Breck holds his hand out for me to take, “Let’s go, Emma.”

  “I’ll meet you outside,” I seethe, humiliated by his jealous outburst. Breck makes no move to leave, and my blood boils.  Grabbing his arm, I give it a sharp tug as I jerk my head towards the hall. 

   His foreboding glare stays aimed at Braden for a couple more seconds before he follows me.

  “Wait on me outside, Breck,” I hiss, furious with his childish behavior. 

   “I don’t like how he makes you feel uncomfortable, Emma.”

  “Right now, the person making me feel uncomfortable is you.  I can’t believe you just did that!” I glare at him, trying to keep my voice down.  “Please, Breck, wait on me outside.”

   His jaw twitches as he glances at Braden then back at me, his internal war raging in his darkened eyes.  “Fine.  Two minutes, Emma,” he demands before leaving. 

   Fuming, I want to slap him for his overbearing asinine attitude. He is the most responsible twenty-four year old man that I know, successfully running two very different businesses, but he is also the most emotionally immature.  I don’t know his secrets or his demons, but whatever they are, they are thoroughly pissing me off at the moment. 

   My face flames as I return to Braden, “I’m sorry for that.” 

   “You have the talent to establish a good career here, Emma,” Braden points down the hall, “I would hate to see him ruin that for you.  You need to keep Breck away from here.”

   “It won’t happen again,” I assure him, knowing, if Mr. Harris saw what happened, I would be fired for the second time in two days. 

   “Make sure it doesn’t,” Braden orders, his voice calm despite his anger. 

   At a loss of anything else to say, I just nod before grabbing my purse. 

  “Emma,” Braden stops me, running his hand roughly over his mouth, “Look, I won’t try to pretend that I’m not attracted to you, but I don’t want to do anything to make you feel uncomfortable with me.  Obviously I have.  I’m sorry for that, but don’t let Breck screw things up for you, okay? Because he seems like someone who isn’t good for you.”

   “I appreciate your concern, but, with all due respect, Braden, that’s my decision to make,” I reclaim. 

   “You’re right.  Just be careful,” Braden warns, giving my arm a friendly squeeze before heading to his office. 

   My temper explodes when I step outside.  Breck is leaning against his door, his arms folded across his chest.  “Don’t ever pull a stunt like that again!” I light into him.

   “You didn’t want him touching you,” he states simply, like that is a justifiable excuse for him acting like an ass.

   “I was handling it, Breck.”

   “You didn’t seem to be doing such a great job at it from what I saw,” Breck shoves his hands in his pockets as he pushes away from the vehicle.

  “What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

   “It means that he touches you a lot, every damn time I see him he has his fucking hands on you.” The vein on Breck’s head bulges as he steps towards me, grabbing my phone, “And your ex-boyfriend still calls several times a week.  I’ve tried to lay off, let you handle Braden and waiting for you to tell Justin to back off but, until just a minute ago, I haven’t seen you do a damn thing to discourage their advances.  What the hell is that about, Emma?”

   “I haven’t done anything to encourage them either!” I yell, snatching my phone back from him.  “I’ve made it clear that Justin and I are just friends.”

   “That’s what you’ve said.”

   Shaking my head at his veiled accusation, I head towards the car, wanting to get away from him and clear my head, but he grabs my wrist.  “So, when are you going to make it clear that Braden’s to keep his hands to himself?”

   “I’m handling it with Braden, but I can’t just tell him to back the hell off, he’s my boss!”

  Breck pulls me towards him, his accusation blaring this time, “Just exactly how far are you going to let that excuse get him, Emma? ”

   “Go to hell!”

   Anger flashes across his face and his jaw clenches as his demeaning glare punishes me, “Now, isn’t that where you’re supposed to be saving me from, Emma?”

   “You are so damn impossible!  This is MY job, MY life, MY damn choice who I talk to and who I don’t and how I want to respond to who talks to me!”

   “And how exactly do you want to
respond
to Braden?  From what I saw you didn’t want him to touch you but maybe I jumped the gun, maybe you were going to say something entirely different and I interrupted.”

   “I’m done with this,” I yell jerking my car door open and slamming it in Breck’s face.

      Breck frantically tries to open my door as I throw the car in reverse.  A pang shoots through my chest when I witness panic darkening his face as I pull away, but I don’t stop; I’m too angry to be near him right now.  It’s 8:00 p.m. when I push my way through the crowd at the Dark Hole.  The band playing tonight is one of my favorites, and I’m not the only one to think that way; they only have a few more gigs here before going on tour.  Jess is busy serving drinks to them, so I take a seat at the bar.

   “Hey, Em, what are you doing here?” I hear Gavin’s British accent as he yells over the noise.

   “Don’t you go anywhere else on your nights off?” I ask, already knowing that he doesn’t.  None of them, Breck, Gavin, or Jess, do anything with anyone else, other than Jason.  For some reason, that pisses me off right now, too.  I don’t understand their tight circle, their mistrust.  Maybe if I knew the reason behind Breck’s behavior, I could figure out a way to make him stop being jealous and so untrusting.  Whatever it is that he’s hiding, it’s keeping me from what I want most...him,
all of him
. 

   “Where’s Breck?”

   “I don’t really care at the moment.”  After a few of Jess’ drinks, I’m hoping the lie I just told will become true. 

   “Uh oh, what’s got you brassed off?”  Gavin laughs, handing me his beer.

   I never have liked the taste of beer, but I take a swig anyway, furrowing my brow at Gavin’s expression.  ‘Pissed’ is actually a British term, Americans have just adopted it, but Gavin says it really means being drunk, and ‘brassed’ means being pissed.  Right now, I’m content with being both.  Gavin reaches for his beer, but I pull it closer to me and take another sip.

   “I just lost my drink didn’t I?”

   “Yes.”

   “Hey, Emma, I didn’t know you were coming by tonight,” Jess shoots a smile my way as she hands beers to a couple sitting a few chairs down. 

   Jealously slams into me and I want to scream.  I don’t know what Breck and I have but it’s eating the hell out of me.  “I wasn’t planning on it,” I reply, unable to keep my toxic mood out of my voice as I tear my eyes away from the couple kissing and cuddling. 

   Jess and Gavin exchange some sort of glance that isn’t meant for me to see, and I gulp the rest of Gavin’s beer.

   “One beer. Draft.” I hear a vaguely familiar voice call out to Jess before a hand brushes against my shoulder.  “Emma, hi.  Good to see you again,” Anton flashes a grin, his hand slipping to my back.  “How about we get reacquainted on the dance floor.”

   “How ‘bout you take your beer and get acquainted with someone else,” Gavin suggests, grabbing the mug and pushing it against Anton’s chest, causing beer to slosh on his shirt and feet.

   Shooting to my feet, I thrust napkins at Anton before pushing Gavin back in his chair, “So, which way was it?  Did you learn to be an asshole from Breck or did he learn to be one from you?” I snap, exasperated with controlling men tonight. 

   Jess plops on the bar and slides across before taking my hand and pushing through the crowd to the office, slamming the door behind her once we are inside, “What’s going on, Emma?  Not that I’m not proud of your claws coming out a little, but I’ve never seen you like this.”

   Not wanting them to, my eyes blur, and I turn away.

   “Honey,” Jess soothes, wrapping her arms around me, “what’s wrong?”

   The tears pour as I give her the details of the fight between Breck and me.  She squeezes me tighter, letting out a long breathe, “Maybe you should walk away, Em, before it’s too late.”

   I know what she means. I need to walk away before I give him all of me and he breaks my heart.  I swipe my eyes, drying them on my jeans, “I’m fine, it’s just been a bad couple of days.”

   “I have a fix for that,” she beams, “it’s called getting trashed, and you’re in the perfect place.  C’mon.”   She drags me back to the bar where Gavin at least has enough decency to look contrite. 

   “I’ll liquor you up to the point of not caring about anything,” she winks, “just let me refill the drinks at the end of the bar and I’ll be back in a few.”

   Gavin bumps my shoulder, giving that arrogant as hell smile, another thing they both possess, and I can’t help but grin. “As far as the answer to your question, I’m pretty sure we were both major assholes before we met.  Come on, let’s dance, and you can tell me about his cockup?”

   “I have no idea what that means, but it sounds very dirty,” I laugh, the action feeling really good after the tension from earlier.  Taking his hand, I let him lead me to the packed dance floor. 

   “So, what did the asshole do?” he winks.

   “He told my boss to keep his hands off of me.  Well, he put it more explicitly than that.”

   Gavin seems to find that amusing, “He just cares about you.”