“You're in a good mood," Donna says when she gets to the office on Monday. I'm not sure how she can tell from across the room until she tells me she heard me whistling from the hallway.
She's not wrong. I feel fantastic. After the game, I asked Joe to drive Alice home since I was meeting my family for the after-party. She, of course, refused the offer and said she was going out with Juniper to celebrate a Fury win. I felt so relaxed after the game that I even agreed to do a shot with my brothers--I rarely drink liquor. I spent too many nights in high school mopping up bourbon-scented vomit when my father stumbled in the door wasted. The smell of it turns my stomach.
But my little brother scored two goals in a Stanley Cup final and I screwed the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my life. I didn't even get angry when Dad showed up at the club wanting to congratulate Ty. I did have security send him away, though. Fuck him. If he can't be there for our lows, he doesn't get to enjoy the highs.
Donna slides me the folder with this week's priority cases and starts to debrief me, but I cut her off. I'm suddenly starving, both for food and another chance to be near Alice. "Donna, let's put this on hold for a half hour. I'm going to get a muffin."
She smiles and nods. I clap her on the back, adjust my suit jacket, and walk down the hall, feeling only mildly foolish as I check myself in the mirror. This isn't a date. She works for you. This is…an infatuation.
I find Alice passing a tray of muffins and juice to a group of construction workers in the kitchen. I feel my inner Neanderthal rising when I notice the way they look at her. One of them is talking to her so familiarly that I want to punch his smug face, until Alice sees me. She smiles and the whole world stops. It's like one of those television moments, where everything else in the room fades away.
Bob the Builder sees me glaring and quickly returns to his work. Good. Fuck off, I think.
I walk toward her and she offers me the tray. "Fresh squeezed OJ and bran muffins today," she says. I am dying to know if she thinks about what we did yesterday. If it kept her up all night like it did me. If she is also hopelessly in over her head. Her face doesn't answer any questions, though. Her smile is just the same smile as always.
"Only for you will I taste a bran muffin, Ms. Peterson," I say, letting my fingers touch hers when I accept the muffin. I feel that familiar sizzle where our skin meets and she blushes. I am in trouble, I decide.
Her eyes hold mine, questioning, and it seems like she's about to say something when I hear a familiar voice say my name. "Tim, yo! This place looks totally different."
I turn around to greet my brother Ty, who is standing in the doorway with our grandmother. My body tenses and I feel my vein tick in my neck. I hate surprises. They know this. "Gran," I say, trying to make my voice sound normal. "What are you two doing here?"
She pushes into the room, touching the stainless steel counters and looking around. "Oh relax, Timber Stag. We're just here for a few minutes." Alice has retreated to her new work area and seems to be busily stirring a fragrant concoction of grains and vegetables. My grandmother takes in the new space and smiles. "I see you took my advice."
Ty has a mouthful of muffin and chews as he looks around. "What the hell did you do here, bro?"
Annoyed, I hand him a napkin and tell them how I've hired a corporate chef, who recommended a kitchen renovation. "Alice Peterson, this is my grandmother, Anna Stag, and I suppose you have yet to meet my brother Tyrion."
He winks and shakes her hand, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. "Call me Ty, sweetheart." I feel my blood boil and I stare daggers at him, but my grandmother hits him with her purse.
"Stop it, Tyrion. Behave yourself right this instant." He winces and rubs his shoulder as he finishes the muffin. My grandmother beams at Alice. "I'm counting on you to fatten up my grandson," she says. "He doesn't eat enough. He works too hard."
Alice smiles at her and nods, saying, "They all do here! But don't you worry. I've got them all stopping for lunch every day at noon and eating breakfast and afternoon snacks, too."
Alice starts to show my family around the new kitchen, talking about the quinoa salad she's working on for lunch, but I clear my throat. "Gran, Alice has a lot of work to do. I've given her quite a lot of responsibility."
"Well, Sir," my brother says, mocking me, "We're just heading down the hall to sign the forms my new attorney has for my playoff bonus." He grabs another muffin and flashes Alice his most flirtatious smile, and I want to punch him in his smug face as he says, "It was real nice meeting you, Alice Peterson, muffin magician."
She laughs at his joke, and I find myself swimming with feelings, ranging from rage that another guy made her laugh…to pride that she gets along well with my family…back to jealous anger that my sleazy brother is clearly trying to hit on Alice. I'm literally shoving him out of the room and he says, "Ok, ok. Hey, you want to grab dinner with me and Thatcher later? Mad Mex is dark enough that I shouldn't be mobbed by fans on a Monday."
"If I say yes, will you get the hell out of my office?"
"Timber Stag! You watch that mouth, young man," my grandmother scolds, and I mutter an apology. Some things never change.