The rest of the week proves just as distracting as Monday, and it sets me into a foul mood. I'd subjected myself to my brothers' merciless taunting when I asked Thatcher to set me up with someone this week, and after all of that, he still hasn't found anyone. I'm starting to think I'm going to rub my dick raw trying to find release every morning in the shower, since I'm waking up hard as steel after dreaming about her each night.
I've never met a woman who leaves me so beside myself. I'm not sure what it is about her, especially since I've been deliberate about keeping my distance. She's wild and fearless, joyful and light. I've always craved order and predictability. I operate from a place of reason. I interpret the law very rigidly, and I bring my clients a lot of satisfaction. When I date, it's always for a very specific reason. And I don't bother very often.
I maintain my family's finances, manage their real estate deals, even track their preventative healthcare for them so nothing is in disarray. That is how I keep everyone safe. Except my father, but I learned long ago that you can't help someone determined to destroy himself.
Rifling through a folder on my desk, I can't seem to find what I'm looking for and I buzz Donna. I shout her name and realize, again, I need to get a grip on my tone. "What can I do for you, Mr. Stag?"
I take a deep breath. "Donna, I can't find the briefing on the Jergensmater case."
"All the briefs for this week's priority cases are in the red folder on your desk, Mr. Stag. I compiled everything that needed your immediate attention."
Of course she's right. Everything I need for this case is right in front of me, along with the notes for our other contract negotiations, an injury dispute, and leads on new business that some of my top associates have brought in. "Donna, I'm not sure what I'd do without you," I tell her.
"That's what I'm here for, sir! Would you like me to schedule you for a massage next week? You seem a little worked up." I thank her and tell her to go for it as I make a mental note to give her a raise.
I scan the files I need, but I feel restless. I look at the clock and realize I haven't eaten anything today. Shit. It's eleven. If I go to the break room now, Alice Peterson will be prepping for the lunch rush and I'll have to avoid inhaling her scent as I walk close to her to take some of the food that's destined to be the best thing I've ever eaten.
I weigh the effects of asking Donna to grab me something and feel guilty at the thought of interrupting her work because I'm worried I can't control my dick near the new chef. I pull out my phone and text my brother. No leads for me for tonight I guess?
Sorry, T-dog. Can't find anyone desperate enough. You know, Timber, there's this thing called Tinder…
Yeah, yeah. Thanks for nothing.
Little Bro says you've got a new lady lawyer on your staff. Maybe I should test drive her for you?
Stay the fuck away from my employees, Thatcher. That goes double for Ty.
I start to walk to the kitchen, even more pissed off that I can't find a fucking date for myself. Then I start to wonder why this suddenly bothers me so much, since I have never really sought a woman for…I don't know if I'm looking for comfort or if I just want to get laid. The whole situation has me unnerved. I keep walking, and I hear something very unsettling.
Why the hell are there children in my office? Lying on the floor over some sort of tablet device, a pair of tow-headed boys laughs at some animated show with burping slugs.
"What is the meaning of this?" My voice is loud and stern. The kids gasp and look up at me like they might cry. I've put on my courtroom voice before thinking twice. "This is absolutely unacceptable. Who brought these children here?"
Alice Peterson's head appears behind a stack of food trays. "Oh, gosh, Mr. Stag, you scared me. Are they in your way?"
"What they are is in my office," I reply. I can feel a vein starting to bulge in my neck. "What if a client were to come in here? And they're lying on the floor. This is utterly inappropriate. Are these your children?" Before I can stop myself, I'm laying into her about her inconsiderate choice to burden us in our professional workplace. By the time I finish, my hands are clenched into fists and Alice Peterson looks like she's going to either cry or murder me.
Juniper Jones, my new associate, steps into the break room, frowning. "What's the commotion?"
I hold up a hand to her. "This doesn't concern you, Ms. Jones. I was discussing Miss Peterson's decision to bring children into our place of business without consulting me."
"Excuse me, but I talked to Donna about it--"
"Donna? Is Donna your boss? Does Donna sign your paychecks?"
Juniper steps in between Alice and me, as the kids run behind the counter toward Alice. "Woah. Tim. Enough. You're out of line here with your tone." She's right, of course. My chest is heaving, I'm so worked up over this, and the worst part is that I can't quite put a finger on why this is so upsetting for me.
Juniper walks toward Alice and draws her in for a hug. "You ok, Al?" I see Alice nod and hear them murmuring together. I hear Alice mutter the word "asshole" and I know she's right.
I take a few deep breaths and say, "I apologize that my tone got heated. Miss Peterson, may I see you in my office after you serve lunch?"
She nods, and I add, "Please see that the children find somewhere else to spend the afternoon." I stride toward the new, glass-front coolers and grab two random containers from inside and storm back to my office.
I pull up the folder of notes on Alice Peterson. I read her resume and quickly determine that she's about 24 years old. As I gulp down an amazing--of course it's amazing, Alice made it--fruit smoothie with some sort of zesty aftertaste, I realize what enrages me about this situation. Alice has a family, I think. Some man has been inside her and she has carried his children. She belongs to someone else, and that means she can't ever be mine.
This won't do at all. I do not respond very well to limits. I buzz Donna and ask her to come into my office.
She glides into the space she helped me design. The corner office with two sides of vast windows, lush carpet. I might be the fire and the brain behind this organization, but Donna is the thread that ties it together. "Hey, Donna," I ask. "Did you give Miss Peterson permission to bring children into the office today?"
She nods. "I did. Alice asked me about it on Wednesday, told me she had been working all week to get the renovation to a stopping place and map out all the menus and ordering. She seemed to have a handle on things, and I said I didn't see the harm if they stayed in her office, especially since we hired her on such short notice. Did something happen?"
I exhale and put my hands behind my head, staring out my window at the confluence of the rivers below. I can see families walking around in the park on this warm summer day, and I wonder whether Alice has called the children's father--her man, I think, bitterly--to come fetch the boys. "No, nothing like that. I just came upon them and wasn't expecting to see them. I might have lost my temper. You know I don't like surprises, Donna."
Donna sucks in air through her teeth. "Did you raise your voice at that sweet girl, Timber Stag? The poor dear has only been here a week. You know, she doesn't realize you're actually a big softie."
"I am certainly not a 'softie,' Donna," I retort, turning back around in my chair to face her. "But yes. As I said, my tone was out of line. Thankfully, Ms. Jones witnessed my behavior and put a stop to my tirade before I went into closing-argument-mode." I pause, remembering my new associate standing up to me, which was the right call in the moment. "Remind me later to give Juniper Jones my compliments." Donna nods. "How would you recommend I proceed with Ms. Peterson?"
I raise an eyebrow at her, anticipating. I almost never ask for her advice. She generally offers it before I need to. If only all of my employees took the initiative she takes. Juniper Jones takes initiative. She and Donna are the employees I'd take with me anywhere.
"Mr. Stag. Tim. You need to apologize to Alice for losing your temper. And you need to make it count. Sir." Donna raises her eyebrows and nods to me with finality before leaving me alone in my office.
I unwrap the package I grabbed from the cooler with the smoothie. Some sort of nut bar that tastes lightly sweet and chewy. It's miraculously not sticky or crumbly. The perfect texture. From down the hall, I hear the gentle chime of a dinner bell. It sounds almost exactly like the ship's bell my mother had at our house in Highland Park. Before my mother died and my father fell into despair, before my grandmother moved in to save us from becoming destitute as my father drank away his career and my parents' savings. Before I had to manage my brothers and keep us all in school earning top grades to ensure we could all move on to university. That chiming bell takes me back to when I was a different person, and the pain that threatens to surface at these memories is too great. Too much risk here right now.
I dump the wrapper into the trash and grab my bag. Stopping by Donna's desk, I tell her, "I'm going over to the hockey arena to meet with my brother and some of the other players. I'll be gone the rest of the day. Please clear my calendar and reschedule my appointments."
She gives me a disappointed look, but nods. "Will we see you on Sunday?"
"Wouldn't miss it, Donna. See you in the suite."