Page 90 of Not Safe For Work

“Yeah.” I tried to keep my increasingly negative attitude out of my voice. “I’ll…yeah. I’ll stay late and get as much done as I can.”

Marie studied me. “You’ve been putting in a lot of extra hours recently. Are you handling that all right?”

I nodded. “It’s a challenge, but what can you do?”

She chewed her lip and then put her glasses back on and turned to her monitor. “Let me look at the pending projects schedule. Give me a second.”

I tried not to fidget. The cement would be set up soon. The sooner I went back downstairs, the sooner I could get back to work.

Then she took off her glasses again and looked up at me. “There’s nothing coming down the pipe at the moment. At least, nothing that’ll be due before the weekend. Regardless of where you are with any of your projects, I want you out of here at five o’clock on Friday, and I don’t want to see you again until eight on Monday.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Do whatever overtime you need between now and then, but I want you to take this weekend completely off.” She shot me a pointed look. “Even if there’s an emergency or an urgent project, I’ll cover for you. And I’m going to make some arrangements with Teagan as well. Pressure or not, I need you two sharp. Can’t have either of you getting burned out.”

I exhaled. I should’ve known Marie of all people would get it. Despite the pressure from on high, she understood that we were human. “Thank you, Marie.”

“You’re welcome.”

I left her office and would’ve gone straight back to the NSFW Zone, but I still had one more task to take care of in person.

I took the elevator down to the parking garage. If I’d done the math correctly on the way down, everyone who’d attended the lunch meeting would be getting back right…about…

Sure enough, as I stepped out of the elevator, dress shoes were clicking on asphalt, echoing in the garage. Mitchell, Forsythe, Dion. And, of course, Rick.

I stepped aside, ostensibly to let them pass—God forbid clients have to rub elbows with working-class employees like me.

As Rick passed by, he met my gaze. I tilted my head toward the garage.

He glanced at the others and then halted, patted his pockets and looked over his shoulder. “Damn it. I left my wallet in the car.” He gestured toward the garage. “I’ll catch up with you. Conference room three, right?”

“Conference room three,” Forsythe said as they stepped into the elevator.

“All right. I’ll be there in a minute.”

His business partner gave him a sharp nod and a wave, and continued into the elevator with Mitchell and Forsythe.

Mitchell met my gaze and scowled, but before he could say anything, the doors shut. I cringed—I’d be hearing about this later.

Rick and I stepped away from the elevators and into the garage itself.

“Hey,” I said. “I won’t keep you long.”

He grinned. “You can keep me as long as you want.”

God, I wanted to kiss him. Resistance was fucking painful.

I stepped closer but didn’t let myself touch him. “Just need to talk for a second.”

“Okay.” He paused, eyeing the ceiling. “Aren’t there cameras out here?”

“Yeah.” I gestured dismissively. “But they only look at them if someone’s car gets dented or broken into. If anybody asks, you wanted to know how to find Arturo’s.”

Rick shrugged. “Fair enough. What’s up?”

I sighed. “Unfortunately, I have to bail tonight. Overtime again.”

His shoulders sank. “Fuck.”