Sip of Assistance

Chapter 12

Chapter 12

My doorbell rang right on time like every other day for the past few months, and I opened the door to reveal Holly carrying my dry cleaning and the best coffee I had ever tried. I smiled at her as I grabbed my clothes from her arm and she smiled faintly in return, making me wonder if something was wrong. It wasn’t like she ever really beamed back at me, but something seemed off.

By the time I returned from putting my clothes away in my closet she was already at the table sipping on her coffee and leafing through her planner. She hadn’t noticed me come into the room so I took this time to study her.

Today she was wearing dark gray trousers and black flat shoes. Her white ¾ sleeved shirt was buttoned up high enough to conceal her cleavage but there was no hiding that fact that she had a great body.  She may not have been model tall like I was used to, but her small frame and the curves of her short hourglass figure had only grown more appealing. At least it would have if it wasn't underneath her stuffy business clothes.

I don’t know how many times I told her she could wear whatever she wanted but she refused to listen. Initially I wondered if maybe she liked these clothes, but it didn’t fit in right; she was in article after article filled with pictures of her clutching to the arm of that douche Paul Maddox, dressed in tight little dresses, laughing and smiling. Yet here I would be lucky to get her to give me a pity smile and she only wore super conservative clothing. It was like she was two people and I was starting to go with the theory that she had a twin… or a split personality.

I could tell she wanted to say things to me sometimes, but she would catch herself and remain quiet. Often I would see her force a straight face and she never told me anything personal about herself. It was so frustrating, especially after we talked at the Black and White Party. I thought she was going to be fun and interesting but nope; she fought with every ounce of her being to keep our days filled with work as if there were no room for fun.

I couldn’t even fire her- not that I wanted to; she was too damn good at her job. She came into my life, this serious whirlwind of strength and determination and made anything that was unorganized into a tidy little bundle with a label. It was actually really f**king impressive to watch her work.

The confidence she exuded was incredibly sexy, the kind of self assurance that didn't need to pose and move to the vibration of the room but held it's own course.  To my dismay, I found myself imaging unbuttoning her little shirts and letting down her hair so I could run my hands through it, making her laugh, seeing her smile in person instead of in a magazine with her hand in Paul f**cking Maddox’s.

I didn’t even know why I cared. I had decided she shouldn't be a conquest, to keep it all business and now that she was doing that as well, it was driving me insane.

Then there was the fact that I knew that the little prick she was dating had been using her to make his ex jealous and he clearly still wanted her. It wasn’t any of my business and I knew that, but what if he broke her heart? He didn’t deserve to have her heart anyway... if she had one.

Today was the day I had to say something… the question was, where to start?

“I made us omelets already- woke up early so I thought I’d do something productive,” I explained, as I sat a plate in front of her. I grabbed my coffee from the counter and brought it with me to the table, sitting across from her as usual.

“Thanks,” she said before clearing her throat awkwardly and drinking more from her coffee.

Something was up, but I knew if I asked she wouldn’t tell me. Anything not work related was off limits.