Urges: Part Three (The Urges Series Book 3) (4 page)

“
To
take the walk of shame.” I scowl.

“
Ohhh,”
she hisses. “You should have nut-punted him.”

“
I
should have, but I didn't.” At the time, I wasn't sure what to
do. It wasn't like him to say something like that at all, especially
when he had just been so affectionate with me.

“
So
what did you say back?” She returns her attention to her food.

“
I
told him that sleeping with him must be shameful if he was telling me
that.” It was the only retort I could come up with at the time.

“
And
what did he say?” She looks up at me before taking a drink of
her soda.

“
He
said that maybe it is.” I furrow my brows, thinking about how
peculiar the statement was.

“
Sounds
like the guy is messed up, or just a hoebag. It's hard to tell when
they're arrogant like that.”

“
I'm
honestly not sure either, but I'm leaning towards him just being
messed up. As far as anyone at the office knows, he doesn't date. And
the way he goes from professional to aggressive, from caring to
asshole, so quickly is just bizarre. Plus, he did warn me not to go
with him. That's not something the typical hoebag would do.” I
rotate my glass in my hand.

“
You're
over-thinking things. You
always
over-think
things,” she repeats for good measure. “It was probably
just sex. It usually is with guys as good-looking as you claim that
he is.”

“
I
don't think so.” I shake my head. “I quit because things
were awkward with us after that. But yesterday he showed up at my
house apologizing and asking me to come back to work for him.”
I can still hardly believe that happened. It was so weird to see him
there on my doorstep. For the briefest of moments, it made me think
that he might actually care. That's too much to hope for though.

“
Wait.
Back up.” She sets her fork down and looks at me. “He
showed up at your house yesterday?”

“
Yeah,”
I draw out the word to show my own surprise. “Totally
unexpected.”

“
You're
going back, right? It obviously means he wants to fuck again.”

“
Are
you out of your mind?” I can't believe how dense she is
sometimes. In Terry's world, everyone should tread the path that
leads to her amusement. Screw my own emotional well-being.

“
I'm
just saying.” She sulks a bit, picking back up her fork. “You
need a job, and if he came to your house, it obviously means he's
still interested in you.”

“
It
doesn't mean he's still interested in me. It means he feels guilty
for being a douche and driving me away.” I scowl, upset at her
for even suggesting I put myself in that situation again.

“
Whatever.
You said he's hot. Don't you want to keep sleeping with him?”
She acts as if the question is trivial.

“
Not
at the cost of my heart.” And that's what it would be. No
matter how I try to deny it, every time I'm around Trent, I feel
something. Even when he was at my house yesterday, and I was trying
so desperately to hate him, I still felt something for him, if only a
twinge of desire. He's bad for me. I'm smart enough to know that. And
it's best if I never see him again.

CHAPTER THREE

I'm standing in
front of Chilly Creations, Inc. again, and not because I want to. In
his latest dick move, Trent has decided that my last paycheck will be
a physical one, not direct deposit, like I had originally signed up
for. Maybe that's a corporate rule, but I don't care. It feels better
to blame it on him.

I loathe the very
idea of having to go inside the building. Thankfully, I won't have to
speak to him directly. These types of checks are typically handled by
human resources, which means I only have to talk to Marcelene, though
I still have to pass Trent's office to get to her.

As I take a deep
breath and wait for someone to buzz me into the building, I think
about how it would have been better if I just had her mail the check
to me. Then I would have had to wait for it though, and I really need
the money now. It's amazing how even one week of unemployment can
drain your bank account. Cars don't gas themselves up, and Terry
didn't offer to pick up the tab on our Chinese food lunch. I need
this money to get by until I can find another job. So, here I am.

One of the
production floor workers walks out of the building, and I slip in,
taking long strides past Trent's office, though I still can't help
but glance inside with my peripheral vision. It's mercifully empty.
Maybe I won't have to see him after all. That would be the best-case
scenario.

Things get even
better when I get to Marcelene's office. She's sitting at her desk,
and I can see the checks piled on top. Thank God.

“
Hey
Marcelene.” I knock on the doorframe to her office and smile
when she looks up at me.

“
Hey
Fennel. How have you been?” She beams at me.

“
I've
seen better weeks,” I confess. The only hit I've gotten on my
job search so far was at a hardware store. It's definitely not the
ideal job, but at this point, I'm back to the idea of taking
anything. The goal is to get out of my mother's house by whatever
means necessary, even if I have to take a crap job with no real
career potential.

“
I'm
sorry to hear that.” Her shoulders slump, and she looks
sympathetic, though I get the feeling it's all an act. In the few
weeks that I worked at Chilly Creations, Inc. I've gotten a feel that
most of her kind sentiments are fake. She's just too nice. All the
time. Never in a bad mood. No one can keep it up for as long as she
has and actually mean it. It irks me, but I suppose it doesn't matter
anymore.

“
It
is what it is,” I sigh. “But anyway, I'm here to pick up
my check.”

Her hands don't even
reach for the stack of checks. Instead, she folds them on top of her
desk as she looks at me. “It's in Trent's office.”

“
Why
is it in Trent's office?” I do my best not to sound mortified.

“
He
wanted to talk to you before you leave. I could call him to let him
know you're ready to see him.” She picks up the receiver of her
desk phone, and my mind instantly panics.

“
No.”
I hold my hand out, trying to indicate that she can hang up the
phone. Thankfully, it works. “You know what? Just tell him to
mail it to me.” It takes everything in me not to scowl. Not
only did I waste gas driving all the way down here, but now I'm not
even going to get my check. I absolutely refuse to see Trent. I don't
care if it means I'll have to struggle and probably have to borrow
money from my mother.

“
Alright,”
she hesitates. “I'll tell him you stopped by.”

“
Thanks,
Marcelene.” I wave at her briefly on my way out the door,
seething inside with anger. It feels like I've been set up. No one
told me when I called about my check that I was going to have to talk
to Trent. Had I known that, I never would have come here in the first
place.

The offices rush by
me in a blur. My legs have never taken longer steps to get out of a
building. It's like power-walking on steroids. I can hear Zelma
calling to me from down the hall. I'm not listening though. My only
goal is to get out of this building, drive away, and never look back.
This place is dead to me. These people are dead to me.

Trent isn't in his
office, and I once again give thanks. I'm going to make it out of the
building unscathed. At least, I think I am until I turn the corner to
the exit and collide with a wall of muscle.

“
Hey,
slow down there.”

I feel Trent's hands
on my elbows before my eyes connect with his face.

“
Fennel,”
he sounds surprised to see me, but I'm not sure why. He knew I was
going to be coming in to pick up my check today. That's why he had it
sent to his office like a dirty, rotten sneak.

“
Trent.”
I jerk out of his grasp.

“
I
have your check in my office.”

“
I
know.” I straighten my outfit, trying not to look too upset
about the encounter. From the way that he's making it seem, he just
wants to give me my check and let me go. It can't be that simple
though. Things never are when it comes to him.

“
Shall
we.” He reaches out to touch my side, perhaps to herd me back
in the right direction, but I step away. His expression hardens for a
moment in offense, but it softens just as quickly, concealing any
true emotion.

Reluctantly, I lead
the way, hoping we can get this done and over with quickly. While I
don't have anything else to do today, I can think of about a million
better ways to spend my time than being in his presence.

“
Where's
my paycheck?” I ask as soon as he's closed the door behind us
and rounded his desk.

“
Sit.”
He gestures to one of the chairs across from him that I've grown to
hate.

“
I'd
rather not. I don't plan on being here long. Just came to pick up my
check, and then I'll be out of your hair.” I wrap my arms
around myself protectively.

“
I
wanted to talk to you for a little while.” He gazes up at me
with the fake professionalism that he usually sports around the
office.

“
There's
nothing for us to discuss.” I stand my ground. If he doesn't
understand that I'm done with him and his company, then he's the
densest blond I've ever met.

“
Would
you like something to drink?” He nods towards the water cooler,
completely ignoring me.

“
No,
but I would like my check. Last I knew, you can't legally hold it
hostage.” I furrow my brow at him.

Trent leans forward
and props his elbows up on his desk, clasping his hands in front of
him. “I want you to come back and work for the company again.”

“
Gophers
are easily replaceable, Trent. There are at least two people more
qualified than I was who can take the job, if they're still seeking
employment.” I refer to the other two applicants who, by all
rights, should have had a better shot at the job than me.

“
Gophers?”
He quirks his head back.

“
Yes,
gophers. People who run around doing the stuff that no one else in
the office wants to do. I was one step up from bringing you your
coffee every morning,” I practically spit at him before
realizing that's probably not the best thing to say to the man who is
going to be giving me my next job reference. Still, I'm angry that he
won't just hand over my check. When he came to my house, I made it
clear that I didn't want to work for him anymore. I even told him
why. It doesn't make sense that he'd press the issue.

“
I
make my own coffee.” He frowns.

“
That's
not the point.” I throw my hands up in exasperation. “This
wasn't exactly the desk job I wanted. I only took the job because I
needed the money.” It feels like I'm shoving my foot further
down my throat, getting ready to choke to death on it.

“
And
I only offered you the job because you needed help,” he
counters, looking displeased.

“
Exactly.
So there's no reason I should work at a job I don't like and that
other people are better qualified for.” I lower myself into the
chair, mainly because I'm sick of standing. This has already taken a
lot longer than I thought it would.

“
But
you were good at the job. I'm glad I hired you. I didn't know you
disliked it.” He looks away as if he's contemplating something.

Now I feel bad. It's
not like I hated the job, just having to interact with him after all
the weird sexual stuff that went on between us. “The job isn't
horrible,” I sigh. “The people here are great. I've never
been given trouble by anyone but you.” I narrow my eyes at him.