Balancing the mugs on a tray, she returned to Branson’s private office, her expression revealing none of the private turmoil she felt. “I’ve got your coffee.”
Branson paused, his racing fingers on the Braille keyboard. “Great. Here.” He patted an empty spot on his desk and returned to his typing, as if nothing had happened between them. As if she hadn’t bared her soul to him and experienced agonizing rejection. Okay, maybe she was exaggerating a little bit, but she was irritated he seemed unaffected by the whole ordeal.
Ignoring everyone, Carina sprawled on the leather couch, designer shoes carelessly tossed on the floor, her eyes glued to her phone screen. Steph placed Carina’s coffee on the table beside her, with the distinct impression of being invisible. Was this going to be the new norm? Carina lurking in the background while they were trying to work? I guess she wants to be sure nothing illicit is going on between Bran and me.
“Stephanie, are you ready to start? I’ve already recorded two hours of dictation. You’ll have to wade through it, because I went back and corrected things.”
Was Bran’s tone more gentle than usual, or was that Steph’s imagination? She slid into her customary chair beside Bran’s desk and opened her laptop, diving into the day’s work. Soon she was engrossed in transcribing Bran’s dictations playing in her earpiece, and at about two p.m., her stomach gurgled to complain of missed lunch.
“Was that your stomach?” asked Bran. “Or a pack of werewolves on the hunt?”
Stephanie pressed her hand on her rowdy abdomen, to no avail. “I guess I’m hungry.”
“Let’s go to lunch. Mine is getting noisy, too.” His hand swept toward the door.
A quick glance around the room revealed Carina was missing. “What happened to Ms. Parker?”
“I can’t believe you missed all that.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Didn’t you notice when she dragged me outside into the hallway?”
“Kind of. But I had my dictation earpiece in. I was working on those communications you recorded earlier today, and I can’t hear much else.
He shook his head as if he had a hard time swallowing her explanation. “She complained she was bored and demanded I take her shopping.”
Steph almost laughed out loud, imagining how that went over. “I guess she learned you don’t respond well to demands.”
As a crooked grin appeared on his face, she warmed all over, knowing she was responsible for it. “Needless to say, Carina is now shopping on her own.”
His hand nestled in the small of her back, as if he were the one guiding her down the hallway. She realized if the interior was pitch black, she would totally trust him to lead her through the dark. He never erred.
By the time they were both seated at the table, with lunch in front of them, Stephanie had done her usual thing, describing in detail all about the move and how excited Ellie was that she would have a new home when she returned from school. She was most excited that she would have her own room with a big bed, instead of sharing a bedroom with her mom.
Swallowing his last bite, Bran sat back and pushed his plate away, patting his lips with his napkin. Steph suddenly wondered if Bran’s dislike of children extended to hearing stories about them. She talked about Ellie way too much.
“I’m sorry,” said Steph. “I always run at the mouth. I can’t seem to stop myself.”
“I enjoy your stories,” he said, politely.
But Steph wasn’t fooled. She scrambled to change the subject. “Are you excited about the Vegas trip? The guys said you love it, and you used to go all the time. I can’t picture you there.”
“No? Why not?” came his tight-lipped reply.
“I don’t know. I guess because you don’t drink alcohol or eat rich foods. And I can’t see you gambling your money away in Vegas. You’re such a…” She let her words fade as his expression hardened.
“Go ahead. Finish the sentence,” he urged, his jaw muscles bulging.
“I wasn’t being critical,” she defended. “I hardly ever drink, either. Maybe an occasional glass of wine with dinner. And I’ve always admired you for being a practical nerd.” The world’s hottest nerd, but I won’t say that.
“Nerd? Is that what you were going to say? Or were you planning to call me a coward?” He threw his wadded napkin on the table.
“Why on earth would I call you a coward?” If Bran hadn’t looked so furious, she would’ve laughed out loud. “You’re not afraid of anything. You face the world every single day without the benefit of sight, and look what you’ve accomplished. No one can call you a coward.”
“Stop it! Stop saying what you think I want to hear.” He pushed back from the table and stood up. He pivoted behind his chair, his knuckles white as he gripped the back. “You don’t have to lie. I’m not going to fire you, Stephanie. I couldn’t, even if I wanted to.”
She flinched at his wrath, wondering what she’d done to rile him up. For two years he’d been as steady as a rock, seldom displaying any emotion at all. She had no idea how to act around this new Branson. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled.
“Do you know why?” he bellowed. “Do you know why I can’t fire you?”
“No,” she croaked, barely holding her emotions in check.