The guard doesn’t make any moves to pick up the phone, but he does tilt his head and observe me a little closer, as if I’m being irrational and might need to be dealt with.
“Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to—”
“Everly!”
The guard and I both snap our gazes up. A blonde woman clicks across the lobby to reach us. “Everly Jensen?” she asks, but more as a courtesy than because she’s unsure.
“Yes,” I agree, cautiously. She clearly belongs here, the guard murmuring a “Miss Adams,” and tipping his head to her upon her arrival. She’s wearing the cutest black jacket over a skirt, paired with a pair of heels I’m coveting. Her blonde hair is pulled into a low pony, the ends of it curled in what looks like a natural wave. An official building ID badge clipped to her waist completes the outfit.
She beams and holds out a hand. “I’m Sandra, Mr. Camden’s assistant,” she says. “I wasn’t expecting you or I’d have made sure you had building clearance. I’m so sorry,” she adds, and it’s totally genuine. “Ted,” she addresses the guard, “I’ll take her up with me and send you a clearance to be held on file for her at the desk.”
He nods with a, “Ma’am,” even though he’s old enough to be this woman’s father, and with that we’re through the turnstiles and she’s swiping her badge at the elevators.
“He’s in a meeting. I’ll bring you up and let him know you’re here, but I’m not sure if he can step out this second,” she adds, and she says it apologetically, as if I’m the one who’s being inconvenienced.
We’ve just stepped into an empty elevator car and I’m rapidly questioning my decision to crash his workplace unannounced. He deserves it after the stunt he pulled today, but this is too weird, even for me. “You know, I could come back at a better time,” I offer as the elevator slows to a stop.
“No, no.” Her eyes widen in alarm at the suggestion that I should leave. “It’s no trouble at all, promise. I can’t imagine he’d be pleased if you left without saying hello,” she adds, another smile on her face.
Uh. Okay. I can’t imagine he’s gonna be pleased when I give him a piece of my mind, but hell, I’m already here.
The doors slide open and a man around Sawyer’s age steps on. He’s in jeans and a button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled back and shoved up to the elbow, a stark contrast to Sandra’s attire. Probably a tech nerd. They always get away with casual attire in the workplace. Hot though. He’s wearing chunky nerd glasses that frame his face perfectly. Well, at least now I don’t feel so out of place in my distressed jeans tucked into a pair of boots. No, not the boots. Not that I sent them back, but I haven’t worn them. Besides, it’s supposed to snow today, which sadly requires Lands’ End, not Louboutin.
“Sandra,” the man greets her and gives me a little nod.
“Mr. Laurent,” she returns, but her voice sounds different than it did a moment ago. Reverent. Maybe the guy’s important. But there’s something more, I suspect. I eye her and watch as her gaze drops to his ass when he reaches out to punch a floor on the control panel. Oh! She is totally into the hot tech nerd! I wonder if I can help. I do love helping.
The doors slide closed and the elevator is again ascending, this time into a cloud of awkward silence. They really do need my help.
“Sandra, I love your shoes,” I say, glancing down. But I’m not looking at her shoes. I tilt my head as if I am, but it’s just a ruse so I can see if this Mr. Laurent takes the opportunity to check out her legs while we’re both distracted looking at her shoes.