Page 74 of Not Safe For Work

Chapter 19

My reprieve was exactly what I needed, especially since I spent it sleeping, tangled up with Rick, or both. It was far too short, though, and all too soon, it was over. Back to the grind.

Before I went to work, I took a walk around the park across the street, just to give myself another half hour or so of freedom before I returned to that fluorescent-lit prison. The walk did me almost as much good as the sleep, sex and coffee. A little air, a little sunshine, some exercise, all on the heels of some long-overdue time with Rick—why yes, it was possible not to feel like a zombie.

I’d barely stepped into the building when Marie and Mitchell cornered me in the hall.

“I hope you got some rest?” Marie inclined her head.

“Yes, definitely. Thank you.”

“Good.” Mitchell nodded. “Because you’re going to be busy for a while.”

“Well, I definitely appreciate the time—” A yawn cut me off. “Sorry. Sorry. Still tired.”

Mitchell scowled. Marie glanced at him, then at me. “Why don’t I run to Starbucks and get you and Teagan some coffee. I think we owe you at this point.”

“That would be awesome. Thank you.”

Mitchell’s lips tightened. He’d probably have words with Marie behind closed doors about splurging on fourteen dollars’ worth of coffee for the people who’d just had a break from working their fingers to the bone for these projects. Whatever.

“You go ahead and get to work.” Marie nodded toward the NSFW Zone. “I’ll be back with coffee shortly.”

“Thank you.”

When I stepped into the Zone, the rest of the crew wasn’t here yet, but Teagan was, and she looked nearly as exhausted as she had when I’d last seen her.

“Hey,” I said. “Rough weekend?”

“Ugh.” She reached for her coffee cup. “Ever heard the phrase ‘so tired you can’t sleep’? That was me the last few days.”

“Really?” I shrugged off my jacket. “I don’t think I’ve ever experienced that.”

She glared at me. “Lucky bastard. I was too damned tired, and I couldn’t relax enough because I needed to get back and finish this.” She scowled and pointed at the model. Then she drained her coffee cup, tossed it into the trash and sighed. “So I take it you got some sleep?”

“Hours. In fact, I think I might have gotten some of your sleep rations. So sorry.”

“Fuck you.” She started to put a piece into place on the model but stopped, her eyes narrowing. She cocked her head. “Wait. Something’s not right here.”

“What do you mean?”

“You are way too chipper for—” Her eyes were suddenly huge. “You didn’t just sleep, did you?”

I blinked. “What?”

“Jon McNeill, you son of a bitch. You got laid, didn’t you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t even try to bullshit me.” She stepped closer and lowered her voice. “You scored, didn’t you?”

My jaw dropped. “What? What are you talking about?”

“You know. Scored. Had sex. Fucked. Got laid.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, I know what it means. What makes you think I did?”

“Because I know you.”