A Kick in the Pants (a Riley O'Brien & Co. novella) Page 3

  To Kyla’s surprise, she had missed Vanessa quite a bit. She liked living with her sister.

  When they’d been young girls, they had shared a bedroom, and they hadn’t liked it.

  They had lived apart for several years, but it hadn’t taken long for them to fall back into their familiar patterns from childhood. They still argued about Kyla’s messiness, but nowadays, their disagreements were settled peacefully, probably because they drank wine.

  After giving her big sister a hug, Kyla asked, “Why didn’t you get a booth?”

  “I’ve been sitting all day. It felt good to stand for a while.” She grabbed her black patent leather tote from the bar stool and slung it over her shoulder. “But I’m ready to sit now. I’m starving.”

  In less than a minute, the hostess had shown them to a cozy booth in the back. The banquet seat was upholstered in taupe linen with French words written in black cursive. Kyla spotted bon appétit and cuisine before she tossed her fuchsia biker’s jacket onto the cushion.

  Vanessa picked up the menu. “Lunch is my treat today.”

  “Why? What do you want in return?” Kyla teased.

  “The toilets at home could use a good scrubbing,” Vanessa answered, her gray eyes sparkling with mischief.

  “Who do you think I am? Cinderella?”

  “You say that like it would be a bad thing.”

  Vanessa tilted her head, the blunt ends of her glossy hair falling past her shoulders. She only wore it down when Alan wasn’t around because he preferred it slicked back in a tight bun. Whenever he saw it down, he complained that it looked too unkempt.

  “I don’t understand why everyone feels sorry for Cinderella,” Vanessa continued. “She had to clean a few chamber pots before she got her happily ever after. Boohoo. We all have to put up with a little shit before we find a prince.”

  Kyla stared at her sister. Did Vanessa actually think Alan was her prince? If anything, he was the evil villain … or the village idiot, depending on the situation.

  They abandoned the subject of Cinderella and spent the next couple of minutes reviewing the menu. It didn’t take Kyla long. She could almost recite it word-for-word since she’d been to Remy’s so many times. After the server delivered glasses of water and described the daily specials, they placed their orders.

  Vanessa took a sip of her blood orange sparkling water. “Have you talked to Miranda yet about where you’re going to be placed permanently after you graduate from the trainee program?”

  “No, she canceled our meeting yesterday. Honestly, I was relieved. I can’t make up my mind.”

  Since Riley O’Brien & Co. was expanding, a lot of departments were eager to fill empty positions with qualified candidates. Kyla had several options including positions in every department in which she’d done a rotation.

  “Since you’re such a little math geek, you should stay in the finance department,” Vanessa suggested.

  “You’ve always been jealous that I love numbers, and they love me back.”

  Vanessa’s lips twitched. “Do all numbers love you or just six and nine?”

  It took Kyla a moment to get the joke, and when she finally did, she rolled her eyes. Vanessa burst out laughing. “It took you long enough to get it,” she noted through her giggles.

  When Kyla didn’t join in, Vanessa sighed dramatically. “Oh, come on, Ky. You know that was funny. You’ve completely lost your sense of humor. Maybe it’s because sixty-nine doesn’t love you as much as you thought.”

  Ignoring her sister’s gibes, Kyla said, “I’m not sure it would be a good idea to take a permanent position in the finance department. Even if I reported to someone other than Jake, we would still work together on a few projects.”

  “I don’t understand why you think there’s a problem.” Vanessa lifted her shoulder in a dismissive shrug. “So what if you want to do him. That’s what happens when people work closely together.”

  “Shh. Don’t be so loud.”

  Kyla looked around the café, hoping no other Riley O’Brien & Co. employees were close by. Fortunately, she didn’t recognize any of the other diners.

  “Seriously, Ky. Do you know how many women have crushes on their co-workers or their bosses? Thousands. Maybe even millions.”

  “There are a lot of stupid women in the world,” Kyla noted wryly.

  Vanessa frowned. “You’re not stupid for having a crush on Jake, but you are stupid for letting it impact your career. I didn’t think twice about joining Alan’s firm even though we’re together. It was a good career move.”

  Kyla bit her lip to stop herself from blurting out that Vanessa should have thought twice about it. It was bad enough that she had sex with such an ass. Did she have to work for him, too?

  The arrival of their food paused their conversation. Kyla had ordered the daily special: mixed green salad with grilled chicken, roasted beets, goat cheese, and walnuts.

  Délicieux!

  Kyla was so hungry, she devoured half of her salad before she came up for air. Returning to the topic of their previous discussion, she said, “Whenever I’m with Jake, I constantly have to remind myself to be professional. We always end up having these really personal conversations … the kind of conversations people have on dates.”

  “Maybe you should try going on an actual date with him. You only have a few days left in the finance department. You should ask him out when your rotation is over.”

  Kyla blanched at the thought. “No way.”

  “Why not? Does he have a girlfriend?”

  “I have no idea. But even if he doesn’t, I am not going to ask him out.”

  “I know you’re shy, and I know how hard it is for you to talk to guys in social situations, but you just said that you and Jake have already had those awkward getting-to-know you conversations.” Vanessa rolled the stem of the water goblet between her fingers. “There’s no harm in asking him out once he’s no longer your boss.”

  “No harm?” Kyla repeated, her voice nearly a screech. “I would be humiliated if he said no! Or what if he said yes because he was too nice to say no? Or what if he thought I was just asking him out to network? Or what if—”

  Vanessa set her goblet down on the table with a sharp click. “Kyla Genevieve Andrews! Do you like him or not?”

  “Yes! But I think it’s better to end my rotation on a professional note.”

  “And then what? Wave to him whenever you run into him in the elevator?”

  Kyla fell silent. Her throat got tight when she thought about not seeing Jake every day. He was the best part of her day … and night.

  “I don’t know,” Kyla finally answered.

  “Here’s the way I see it: since you don’t have any plans to hook up with him after your rotation is over, you might as well stay in the finance group. More than likely, your crush will run its natural course over the next couple of months, and you’ll find someone more interesting or good-looking than Jake to fixate on.”

  Kyla eyed her sister. She couldn’t deny that Vanessa made a lot of sense except for one tiny thing: there was no one more interesting or good-looking than Jake. And Kyla greatly feared her feelings for him went well beyond the typical short-lived crush.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “You’re going to feel a little prick.”

  Kyla looked away from her arm as the phlebotomist positioned the needle in the crook of her elbow. She wasn’t afraid of needles, but she got a little queasy if she watched the stainless-steel tube pierce her skin.

  “The hypodermic is in.” The phlebotomist, an older black woman with a short, silver afro, patted Kyla’s shoulder. “We like to get a least a pint of blood, and it should take about ten minutes for the bag to fill. Once it’s full, I’ll send you to the recovery station where you need to have a drink and a snack to replenish the lost fluid. You can leave the recovery station after fifteen minutes.”

  “Okay,” Kyla replied.

  “I’ll be back to check on you in a few minutes,�
� the woman promised before hurrying away.

  Relaxing in the portable blood donation chair, Kyla glanced around the spacious conference room where Riley O’Brien & Co. hosted its annual blood drive for the American Red Cross. The nonprofit organization had split the space into three areas for donor registration, donation, and recovery.

  Tall soundproof panels separated the registration area into small intake rooms. Donors had to provide sensitive information, so privacy was important, especially for work-related blood drives. In the middle of the room, ten mesh-backed donation chairs were grouped in a circle so employees could socialize while they gave blood.

  Except for Kyla, the donation chairs were empty. It was just after eight o’clock, and she assumed most people needed at least a couple of cups of coffee before they opened their veins. She, meanwhile, had been at work for more than an hour. She had only eight days left in her finance rotation, and she had a lot of projects to complete before she graduated.

  Hearing footsteps behind her, Kyla looked over her shoulder and caught sight of Jake as he walked toward the donation area. He wore a pair of dark-washed Rileys and an olive-colored thermal tee that outlined his broad chest and flat stomach and showed off his muscular arms.

  Except for his attire, he looked like a prisoner heading to the gallows, his jaw clenched and his shoulders stiff. When he saw Kyla, his greenish-gold eyes widened, and a look of profound relief crossed his face. He hurried toward her, and as he reached her side, he said her name like a prayer, his voice barely audible.

  “Good morning,” she replied.

  He stared down at her, still and silent as his gaze trailed over her face. His scrutiny made her feel terribly self-conscious, and she raised her hand to smooth her hair, forgetting for a moment she was tethered to plastic tubing. His eyes fell to the needle and the blood-filled tubing, and his face paled until it was nearly the color of milk.

  Fearing that he might faint, she grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the donation chair next to her. “Sit down,” she ordered.

  He obeyed her immediately, dropping heavily into it. He leaned back and closed his eyes, his lashes long and spiky against his ashen cheeks.

  “Okay?” she asked softly, rubbing his knuckles with her thumb.

  Her voice was calm, but her chest felt tight with worry. He squeezed her hand, his long fingers weaving with hers as he pulled in several shaky breaths. After a long moment, he opened his eyes and met her gaze.

  “Trypanophobia,” he muttered, color filling his face.

  “What?”

  “Fear of needles.”

  “Oh, I thought you might be afraid of the sight of blood.”

  He grimaced. “That too. Hemophobia.”

  “Ridiculous man,” she scolded. “Why are you here if you’re afraid of needles and blood?”

  His burnished eyebrows arched. “Because I need to set a good example. I can’t expect the people in my group to do something I’m not willing to do. Plus, giving blood saves lives. Haven’t you seen the TV commercials—one blood donation saves three lives?”

  She was torn between exasperation and admiration. “So I should force myself to kill huge, hairy spiders even though I have arachnophobia?”

  “No,” he answered, his eyes lit with amusement. “I’d be happy to kill them for you.”

  As they stared at each other, Kyla realized Jake’s phobias had the surprising result of making him even more attractive to her. He always seemed so in control, almost invincible, and the fact that he had admitted his weakness made her feel closer to him.

  The phlebotomist returned, pushing a metal cart filled with supplies. She stopped next to Kyla and fiddled with the tubing that ran from Kyla’s arm to the plastic bag.

  “Looking good, girl.” She turned to Jake. “Don’t tell me a big, strong man like you is afraid of a tiny piece of metal?”

  “Are they mutually exclusive?” Jake asked with a rueful smile.

  The phlebotomist chuckled. “In your case, they’re not.” She eyed Jake and Kyla’s entwined hands. “I take it you two know each other.”

  Embarrassed, Kyla tried to jerk her hand away. Jake’s fingers tightened for a split second before he let go.

  “He’s my boss,” Kyla explained, tucking her hand between her denim-clad thighs.

  The phlebotomist’s lips twitched. “Don’t worry, honey, I won’t tell anyone that you and Mr. Afraid of Needles are having one of those steamy office romances.”

  “We’re not,” Kyla protested emphatically.

  Too emphatically.

  Jake glanced at her alertly. She could feel her face growing hot, and she looked away from his penetrating gaze.

  The phlebotomist picked up a purple tourniquet and stretched it between her hands. “Are you ready, tough guy?” she asked Jake.

  He glanced at Kyla, his gaze panicked. “Please distract me,” he begged. “Tell me what you did last night.”

  “I went to an art exhibition with my mom, and after that I hung out with her while she made cookies.”

  The phlebotomist snapped on a pair of blue latex gloves, Jake jerked in surprise when she began to palpate his arm, searching for a viable vein. Apparently, she found one quickly because she reached for a foil square containing an alcohol pad and tore it open.

  Jake took a deep breath. “Keep talking, sweetness.”

  The endearment surprised Kyla. She glanced at the phlebotomist, and the older woman winked before she cleansed the skin of Jake’s inner elbow and forearm.

  “Where was the exhibition?” Jake asked.

  “The San Francisco Public Library.”

  Jake stared at her, his eyes locked in on her face like a nuclear missile locked on its target. “What was it about?”

  “The history of wedding cakes.”

  “And why are you interested in the history of wedding cakes?”

  She laughed at his obvious bafflement. “I’m not. But my mom is. Lately she’s been obsessed with baking cakes.”

  Kyla briefly broke eye contact with Jake. The phlebotomist had removed a butterfly needle from its sterile packaging and was attached it to the tubing.

  “The exhibition was based on a book called Wedding Cakes: A Slice of History,” Kyla continued. “Did you know that there are a lot of superstitions associated with wedding cakes?”

  Jake slowly shook his head. “No, I didn’t know that. But I have a feeling you’re going to tell me about them now.”

  “Apparently, if the bride tastes the wedding cake before the ceremony, she will lose her husband’s love.”

  “That makes sense. Tasting the cake before the ceremony means she’s impulsive and impatient.”

  Kyla’s mouth fell open. “Are you being serious?”

  Jake chuckled softly. “What do you think?”

  She shot a surreptitious glance at the phlebotomist to check her progress. She was preparing to insert the needle into Jake’s vein, so Kyla rushed to turn the conversation to him.

  “What did you do last night?” she asked. “Did you hang out with Charlie?”

  A weird expression chased over Jake’s face. “He was on call. He had to go check on a patient who was admitted to Saint Philomena.”

  Saint Philomena Children’s Hospital was the only healthcare facility in the Bay Area that exclusively treated children. It was renowned for its neo-natal intensive care and its burn unit.

  “The needle is in,” the phlebotomist announced.

  Jake shifted his gaze toward his arm, but Kyla stopped him by saying, “Don’t look!”

  The phlebotomist pushed a red squishy ball into his palm. “Just focus on squeezing the ball. I’ll be back to check on you in ten minutes.”

  “I can do that,” Jake agreed before returning his attention to Kyla. “Thank you for distracting me.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Jake’s eyes drifted away from hers. She could tell the moment he saw the needle in his vein because he tensed up, and his breathing turned erratic.<
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  “Look at me, Jake.” She had to repeat his name three more times before he brought his gaze back to her. “I told you what I did last night. Now you tell me.”

  He turned his face away and muttered something she couldn’t make out. She thought she heard the word “cuddle” but that didn’t make sense.

  “What did you do?”

  Looking down at his lap, Jake said, “Cuddled babies at Saint Philomena.”

  His answer was so unexpected … so bizarre … she didn’t know how to respond for several seconds. Finally, she said, “Hospitals allow people to cuddle babies that aren’t theirs? Don’t parents have a problem with that? I wouldn’t want some strange guy coming in off the street and holding my newborn.”

  He looked up and caught her eyes. “Saint Philomena has a volunteer cuddle program for babies who were born addicted to opioids. They don’t have anyone to hold them. Whenever Charlie goes to hospital, I tag along, and while he takes care of his patients, I cuddle the babies.”

  His face had regained all the color it had lost earlier. In fact, now it was bright red. Was he embarrassed to admit that he cuddled newborns? She couldn’t imagine why he would be. It made him even sexier in her eyes.

  “Cuddling helps them.” Defiance underscored his voice. “There are a lot of studies that prove that cuddling reduces the amount of time babies with NAS spend in the hospital and the amount of medication they need to get better.”

  “What’s NAS?”

  “Neonatal abstinence syndrome. Babies with NAS have a hard time digesting breast milk, and they vomit excessively. They also suffer a lot of pain from muscle stiffness and spasms. And their skin gets irritated really easily. Cuddling soothes them and allows them to sleep.”

  “When did you start cuddling?” she asked.

  “A few years ago.”

  “So how did you get started? Did you just feel the need to cuddle one day, so you stopped by the hospital?”