Deal Page 4

  I’m only repeating what I’ve heard endlessly for the last few months since Casey got engaged. Most everyone around town has photographs by him. Hell, even some photos inside Madsen Construction are from him and sport the familiar signature logo he has.

  Normally I would want nothing to do with attending a wedding expo because, let’s face it, me getting married or even planning a wedding is pretty far off.

  Unfortunately, I have a weak spot for Casey. She’s been my girl for years, held my hand when I cried over Colton, helped me set fire to his car and was right there for me with a shoulder to cry on when my dad lost his long fight with cancer. For that, I’ll be there for her too.

  Zane shows up to work. He’s dressed better than I am and watching Tathan just as much as everyone else in this damn office.

  “If you don’t fuck him soon ... I’m going to.” He tells me and winks at Tathan, who just shakes his head with a smirk of his own and types away on his keyboard.

  That’s an image I don’t want. An image I do want is the one of Tathan’s fingers as they glide over his keyboard effortlessly.

  Despite Zane talking to me, I watch Tathan’s fingers, wondering what those fingers can do for me, long slender and ... shit ... focus.

  Casey walks up, takes a look at Zane, then me, and holds out her hand for the publication on company insurance she needed to have printed for our next staff meeting.

  I turn toward her. “Here is the penetration you asked for ...” I realize quickly that came out wrong when I see that Tathan’s shoulders are shaking with laughter and Zane’s eyes go wide. “PUBLICATION ... here’s the publication you asked for!” I say to Casey who is just as amused by my pornographic word vomit as Tathan is based on the sudden burst of laughter.

  If I had enough office supplies on my desk, I would have thrown shit at all of them.

  Casey rubs my back. “You really need to get laid.”

  Fucking Tathan nods his head eagerly and starts to say something, I’m sure obscene, when I hurl a box of paperclips at his head. I should be fired for my physical violence towards Madsen Construction employees.

  An hour later, I am supposed to be scheduling a meeting for Paul with Connor Development but instead I’m watching Tathan eat an apple, wishing I was that apple. I have to physically turn my head from him and even that doesn’t help right away. I have to force myself to pay attention to the meeting.

  As I’m sitting there taking notes from a conference call I’m sitting in on, I open Urban Dictionary on my cell phone to see if any new words have been added since yesterday. Nothing new on man-whore. I do a search on idiot, just for shits and giggles. Noob and wanker are now at the top of my list because I can’t say either with a straight face. I write them down for future references.

  The conference call ends and it’s ten o’clock and I’m starving so I purchase M & M’s from the vending machine on the second floor. Back at my desk, I empty the entire bag, count them and then organize them by color before I eat them. I’ll admit I’m a little OCD when it comes to colors.

  Lunch goes by too fast and I’m then forced to figure out how to pass the time for the rest of the day.

  My entertainment for the afternoon? Craigslist. It’s my way at getting back at Tathan for all his teasing. I post an ad on there for a handyman looking for extra work. I address the title as: Construction Worker looking for Handy Work.

  In the description for work, I add “will accept trades for payments, known to work without my shirt.” Then I put Tathan’s desk phone as the contact number and nearly burst out laughing thinking of his face when he gets that first call.

  It’s not the first time I’ve posted an ad on Craigslist for him. Two weeks ago, I posted an ad on there for a construction worker looking for a cleaning lady. It’s amazing the response you get when you add the word construction worker. That time I gave them Tathan’s address and sat at my door with a bowl of popcorn and gummy bears watching the congregation of ladies file through. Tathan wasn’t amused. I was.

  He made the mistake of answering the door in his usual attire, no shirt. By the tenth woman, he’d added a sweater and a North Face winter jacket even though it was ninety degrees out that day.

  Forty-one minutes and sixteen seconds after posting my newest ad, he picks up his phone that has been ringing non-stop.

  “Madsen Construction,” he answers, his eyes on his computer screen, seeming annoyed.

  “Who? ... No ... I didn’t post an ad ... who is this? ... Zane, it’s me Tathan.”

  Tathan peeks around his computer and smirks shaking his head. He’s a quick fucker. He catches on fairly soon that I was the one who posted it.

  I almost wet my pants trying to stifle the laughter that is begging to erupt. Zane saw the ad on Craigslist without me even letting him in on my plan. Zane has a fetish with construction workers. This is why he works for Madsen Construction.

  Tathan leaves the office with a black bag on his shoulder after an hour of smirking and winking at every X-chromosome that walks by. He stops by my desk, like he always does before he leaves. “Dinner tonight?”

  “Not a chance.” I say without looking up. Despite my response, he lingers. I continue to pretend to type something and accidently send an email to Casey with just a shitload of letters jumbled together.

  “Come on, Amalie, I just want to have a meal with you.” I can feel him staring at me. “And I think you owe me one after your dog peed at my door.”

  “I replaced your doormat. And you don’t want a meal ... you want to make me the meal and throw me in the Bucket of Sluts.” I spin in my chair to face him, getting a little dizzy in the process. “I’m not bucket material.” I click my pen obsessively to keep my hands busy.

  If they weren’t busy, I’d probably be unbuttoning his jeans or fanning myself with a manila folder as I envision myself unbuttoning his jeans.

  You could always use your teeth. I tell myself.

  No!

  Tathan sighs as his one hand adjusts his bag, the other on the cubicle partition. “You’re right ... I do want you ... but not in my bucket. I don’t even know what that means.” He chuckles when he says bucket. So do I because the way he says it is funny. The thought isn’t lost on me that we have something in common—we think the word bucket is funny which makes me think we have similar personalities and we’re probably fairly compatible.

  What the hell? Chlamydia…he has Chlamydia.

  “See ... you like me.” He points out when I laugh with him.

  “No, I don’t ... I have to work. What do you even do here?” I don’t think Tathan does anything at work. He just sits at his desk, watches me, and leaves around noon most days, sometimes he’s in Paul’s office and sometimes he’s working on the computer. Not often.

  Tathan smiles widely trying his luck again. “Come to dinner with me.”

  “No.”

  Paul comes out of his office and hands Tathan a note.

  “Okay.” Tathan nods after reading it and turns to leave, he pauses to adjust his bag and winks at me.

  Jerk.

  Paul is still staring at me. “What the fuck do you want?” I ask forgetting who I’m talking to.

  He laughs the same laugh all his sons have. The kind that makes me smile, warm and toasty, snowy winter day with hot chocolate in front of the fireplace kind of warm and toasty. Not that I’ve ever seen snow. I live in Arizona and have my entire life.

  “You know, Amalie,” he starts to walk back to his office. “I like you.”

  “Yeah, people keep saying that to me today.” I turn back to my computer and flick the monitor. “Must be my winning personality.”

  Tathan doesn’t show back up the rest of the day, this makes me happy and sad. I have no idea what my plan was and why I need to hate him. You’re probably wondering at this point why do I try so hard to avoid him?

  Maybe you’re even thinking to yourself, jeez, give the guy a chance.

  I have my reasons. I really do.

>   Remember, his name is Colton and I hope that he’s happy with his third-degree dick burns.

  I get home a little after four. Tathan’s Lexus is in the parking lot and parked next to Casey’s car. She usually stays the night with me on Fridays since Bryan works the night shift on the weekends.

  When I get inside the lobby, I check my mailbox and sure enough, he’s taken my fucking mail again. I want to remind him that stealing someone’s mail is a federal offense but I’m sure to a guy like him that wouldn’t matter. I’d call the cops but he’d probably wink and the officer would let it go.

  I knock on his door and almost die when he opens it. He’s still wearing the jeans from earlier only the shirt is gone. It’s everything I can do to, one, not touch and two, not stare but I do wipe the drool from the corner of my mouth and follow him inside. “Where’s my mail?”

  He gives a small grin. “Where’s your dog?”

  “Haven’t freed him yet.”

  “I set your mail over there,” he says pointing to his dining room table.

  I’m not really sure what to expect when I step foot in the apartment as I’ve never been inside before. We’ve lived next door to each other for months now and this is my first adventure inside. Not gonna lie, I half expected to see whips and chains around the room, maybe an x-rated room like Jade as well as a box of porn on the counter ... no such luck.

  He’s actually normal.

  Family photos of him and his brothers line the entry way. Even some of Aldon and him when they were younger. The more I look around, the harder it is to remember why I hate him.

  Earlier today, I Googled the symptoms of Chlamydia in a female so I could repeat them to myself whenever I have a lapse in judgment, like right now. I try to repeat them but I can’t seem to recall even one of the symptoms.

  I glance around the apartment, which is exactly the same layout as mine but still seems different. His furnishings are modern, with cool spa-like colors on the walls. It’s somewhat relaxing with the framed black and white photos everywhere. I recognize the style of them. As I examine them, I notice the same markings as the ones in the office at work, the same ones in the coffee shop, and the same ones in the foyer of our apartment complex.

  This Elliot Warren is literally everywhere I look.

  Though I have no reason to be annoyed with this Elliot guy, I’m annoyed at how everyone worships his photography. Nobody is that good at taking pictures that the whole city has to treat him like he’s the Paris Hilton of the photography world.

  I’ll admit hating this guy has more to do with the fact that everyone loved my ex-boyfriend in high school. Everyone. Even my dad thought he was the greatest. And look how that turned out. It was awful. He was lying, deceitful and a bastard.

  “Not you too, everyone is obsessed with Elliot Warren. I mean Christ—you’d think the guy was a member of the Beatles or some shit.”

  Tathan smirks and looks up at me with a contemplative expression. “Hmmm ... well, he’s good at what he does. Don’t you think?”

  “Pft...” I wave my hand around. “Overrated if you ask me.”

  He lets out a laugh that is somewhere between a laugh and a sigh or a cough, can’t be sure, but it surprises me and makes me smile. It’s adorable and has me wanting to stay and banter longer but I must go for the sake of my will. If I stay longer he may weaken the Force.

  “He has Chlamydia,” I repeat this several times as I walk toward the door but unfortunately, I say it out loud.

  “Who has Chlamydia?” He smiles looking at his phone and then at me as if he can’t quite figure me out.

  I ignore him. “I better go before Casey decides to sign me up for eHarmony,” I say heading for the door. I left her in there by herself and I know damn well she’s trying to marry me off.

  “Night, Amalie.”

  “Yeah, you too,” I say with a smile, trying to be nice for once.

  As much as I don’t want to admit it, I look forward to getting my mail every night from him. Pathetic, I know. I’ve only just begun this plan and I’m already falling for my man-whore neighbor/cubicle partner from hell. It’s like I’m a glutton for punishment, or worse, like I’m trying to become the president of his Crush Brigade. God help me.

  As I expect, when I return to my apartment Casey has my laptop open and creeping on my Facebook page. I shake my head and walk toward the living room to put my mail on my counter.

  Oliver practically attacks me as soon as I’m through the door. All body wiggles and snorts.

  Casey is grinning at me, which makes me really nervous because whenever she acts like this she’s done something she shouldn’t have. Like signing me up for eHarmony or Match.com. She’s done it four times and every time I’ve deleted the account.

  As I step closer, I see that she’s not only on Facebook. It dawns on me that she’s logged in as me. What the hell?

  “Did you—” I look at the notification she’s focused on.

  Tathan Madsen has accepted your friend request.

  “Say what?”

  “I didn’t mean to. I went to click on his name and it pressed the button to friend him.” She’s trying to defend herself with a lie. I know this because Casey can’t lie. If she does, she won’t look at you.

  “Casey Ann McDaniel! What have you done?”

  She pushes a glass of wine she poured for me, knowing this would be my reaction. “I’m sorry.”

  “Casey.” I moan throwing myself on the couch. “The friend button isn’t anywhere near his name. That wasn’t an accident and now he’s going to think I like him.”

  “Because you do.”

  I don’t answer her because I’m too busy thinking about how to fix this. That certainly explains the grin when I was over there.

  Goddamn it. Now he’s gonna think I like him. There goes any plan I had to make him miserable. I can’t do that if we’re Facebook friends. “How do you cancel that?”

  “Can’t.”

  “Yes you can. Unfriend him.”

  “No.” She shakes her head. “You like him, admit it.”

  “I do not. I hate him.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Sure you do.”

  As I contemplate my next move, and drink a glass of wine with Oliver on my lap, I stalk Tathan’s Facebook page and all his pictures once Casey is asleep and not there to watch me drool over my neighbor. He has a ton of photos. The man is a photo-whore. Tons of selfies of him and his brothers and sunset pictures from all over the world. He seems to have photographed sunsets from a hill in Phoenix I recognized as Camelback Mountain.

  As I scan through each one, it’s clear he’s a family man, passionate, and has one special spot, just like me where he goes and nothing else matters.

  Just him and his thoughts surrounded by what makes him comfortable.

  Saturday morning I’m staring at my iPad drinking my coffee waiting for Casey to get out of my bathroom when I hear someone knocking at my door. I open the door and am face-to-face with Tathan once again. I have to leave but I don’t. I can’t. I just stand there. It’s his appearance I can’t shake—dressed in black slacks with a matching black button down long sleeved shirt, of course, the top few buttons are undone and my eyes are drawn there. There’s no denying how sexy this man is. Unfortunately.

  Hello, Johnny Cash. I have half a mind to lean forward and smell him. There is just something about a man who looks that damn good that I find the need to smell him too.

  He grins and looks over my dress. “You look hot.” He says licking his lips. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

  And then he ruins it by talking. Always

  “What do you want?”

  “You.”

  I roll my eyes. “Funny.”

  “I try to be.”

  I began to close the door in his face but his foot stops me. “You forgot this.” He hands me my power bill I must have dropped last night in his apartment.

  I meet his eyes and I regret it simply for the fact that they draw you in w
ith their tenderness. “You know ... I am fully capable of retrieving my own mail.”

  “I know ... but how else would I annoy you?” he says leaning against the doorframe. I don’t invite him in because Casey is in there and she will try to get me to accept his frequent advances only she’ll make it awkward by saying something in front of him.

  “You look good, where are you heading?” his eyes rake down my body once again. “I thought you had to work today?”

  “I do have to work,” I tell him.

  “Ah, come on, give me something.”

  “Give you what?”

  “You never answered my question.” He winks and looks at my tits without regard.

  “What question?”

  He simply nods his head at my dress and I realize he asked who the lucky guy was.

  I choke on my own spit, which by the way, is really embarrassing when you do it in front of Tathan. “No one.” What’s even more embarrassing than choking on your own spit is biting your tongue in the process in front of quite possibly the hottest male on the face of the planet.

  “So, if there’s no one, then why is it that you keep saying no?”

  Folding my arms over my chest, I try not to stare at him. “Because I don’t want to go out with you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t.”

  I snort. “But you have no actual reason ... just that you don’t? Is it that you don’t find me attractive?”

  He knows that isn’t it. By the look on his face right now, he definitely knows. “Why should I go out with you, Tathan?”

  “Because I’m a nice guy.”

  “A nice guy who steals my mail. It’s a federal offense, you know that, right?”

  He smiles, it’s bright and wide, our bantering causing those dimples of perfection. “You gonna call the cops on me?”

  “I might.”

  “So you won’t go out with me. Hmmm ...” he laughs. “You humping anyone then?”