“I hear you’re making some tweaks to the blend,” Mia said when Becca caught up to her twenty minutes later. She was pulling her jacket on, ready to leave.
“Just a few. Daniel suggested them.” Even saying his name made her chest ache a little. It was all too awkward to think about. This was why people said not to mix business with pleasure. They had a point.
“Are you two talking to each other now? I thought you hated him.”
“It was him hating me. And we’re working together, so we have to talk.” Or were they? Maybe he wouldn’t want her on the project now that she’d pissed him off all over again.
“Well, it sounds good. I like the idea of putting less of the scotch in to make it really stand out. I can go with that.” Mia grabbed her briefcase. “Are you heading out now? We can walk together.”
Becca nodded. “Sure. I need to pick up my jacket on the way.”
They made it through the still room and into reception before Becca remembered the flowers she’d left there. She glanced at Mia. “You go on ahead, I have to pick something up from behind the desk.”
“Okay. Have a good evening.” Mia gave her a hug. “Do you have much planned?” she asked, releasing her.
“I’ll probably do some baking. Or maybe go for a walk. It’s a nice evening.” Anything to not think about last night. Or this morning.
“You’re always welcome at ours. Cam and Michael are at some football thing, so it’s just me and Josh. We’ll probably watch something on Netflix. Come over if you’re bored.”
Becca flashed her a grateful smile. “I might do that.”
Mia walked out of the main door as Becca made her way to the back of the desk, where Sandy had set the bouquet. She hunkered down to pick the vase up, right as Daniel walked through from the still room.
It was the first time they’d laid eyes on each other since their argument in the penthouse. She felt her fingers tremble as they held the flower box.
He stilled, his eyes raking her face, then dipping to the flowers.
“Yours?” he asked, unsmiling.
“Yes.” She gave him a sickly sweet smile of her own to make up for it. “They arrived today. Complete surprise. Aren’t they beautiful?” If this was a game, she’d just served an ace. For a moment she felt invincible.
But his face was devoid of emotion. Why was it that her heart always jumped like a kid on a trampoline whenever he was around? She wanted to dislike him. It was so much easier when she did. Because this weird, frantic need was impossible to ignore.
“I’m going home.” She had no idea why she said it. Maybe to break the silence that was killing her.
“Have a good evening.” He still wasn’t smiling. Bastard.
“You too.”
He nodded and turned to walk back the way he came, whatever he’d come to do in the reception forgotten. Sighing, Becca hitched the flowers in her arm and walked around the desk and out of the door, exhaling heavily when she reached her car from holding her breath for too long.
He made her feel things she didn’t want to feel, and it was annoying as heck. Not because the attraction to him wasn’t delicious, because it was. It made her feel more alive than she’d felt in years.
And she knew she couldn’t have him.
One jab to the bag. Then another. Enough to make it swing back from his punch. Follow it up with a dodge and an attack so damn hard that it made his muscles ache and his forehead break out in a sweat.
Sparring with the punching bag wasn’t cutting it. Just like the run he’d gone on as soon as he’d gotten home hadn’t cut it earlier. He hit the bag again, hoping that this one would push her out of his mind, but instead she loomed larger.
Damn it. He needed to stop thinking about her.
He’d started training with a punching bag when he first moved to Scotland. It had been a way to stop being so wound up about the life he’d left behind. The only way he could control the anger that threatened to consume him.
Escaping to the gym had allowed him to regain control of his life. To be only mildly pissed off instead of constantly irate. But now it felt like he’d regressed, and nothing was helping him calm down. All he could think about were those damn flowers Becca had received.
Who were they from?
He should have been the one to buy her flowers. He owed her an apology, after all. But instead he’d stared at them and walked away, afraid that if he opened his mouth he’d piss her off even more.