“That’s why I could never do a desk job.” Becca wrinkled her nose as they walked down the hallway. “I can’t sit still for five minutes. If I do, my legs start twitching.”
Mia laughed.
“It’s true,” Becca told her. “When I have to do any kind of desk work, I have sleepless nights. I prefer standing and doing something.”
That was something Becca had in common with Cam. Mia had noticed how he didn’t like sitting still, either. He’d called her last night while he was running, his breath as regular as the sound of his feet hitting the pavement. She’d asked him how far he was running, and he’d told her he was doing a half marathon.
“And you can still talk?” She’d widened her eyes in shock. “How is that possible?”
He’d either called or texted her every night. And if she was honest, she liked it. Maybe too much. Especially when he asked if she was coming to his place on Saturday, and she demurred.
The chase was fun. So was he. And she was enjoying it for a while. It didn’t mean anything, and it damn sure wasn’t going anywhere. But it made her feel desirable, and she was going to enjoy it while she could.
“Hey!” Naomi, one of G. Scott Carter’s accountants, smiled as Becca and Mia walked into the kitchen. It was full to bursting. There were eight of them in the coffee syndicate and the kitchen was pretty small.
“Hi, how’s it going?” Mia asked her.
“This is making it better,” Naomi said, lifting up her coffee cup. “We got donuts, too. They’re on the side over there.” She gestured at the far end of the counter. “Make sure you take one before you leave, because if the guys see them, they’ll steal them all.
“Not if I have anything to do with it,” Becca muttered. “They kno
w they’re our donuts. If they want some they can buy their own.”
Mia bit down a smile. The rivalry between the coffee syndicate and non-members was legendary in the distillery. The guys had refused to join, yet bitched every time the coffee arrived that nobody had asked if they wanted to order.
“They can make their own damn group,” Naomi muttered. “Donut stealing assholes.”
“Mia?”
She looked up from her coffee up, a smile still threatening her lips. The receptionist was standing in the hallway, and behind her was a woman wearing dark training pants and a white polo shirt.
“Hi Sandy, everything okay?” Mia shot her a smile.
“I tried calling your office, but you weren’t there. This lady has been asking for you.” Sandy pressed her lips together. “Did you order a masseuse?”
Becca burst out laughing. Behind her, Naomi choked on her coffee.
“Um, no.” Mia shook her head. “I really didn’t.”
“Mia Devlin, right?” the masseuse asked. She looked like she was barely out of college. “I have you down for a shoulder massage. Sports injury?”
“You play sports?” Becca asked. “I didn’t know that.”
“It’s your left shoulder, is that correct?” the masseuse asked. “Suspected pulled ligament. Injury happened on Saturday. If you give me thirty minutes of your time, I can make it feel a lot better.” She smiled widely. “It’s already paid for.”
The penny dropped. She knew exactly who’d arranged this. “I really don’t have time,” Mia told her. “I’m working all day.”
“You have lunch coming up soon,” Sandy said, trying to be helpful. “Why not take it a little early?”
“Girl, if you don’t want a free massage, I’ll take it.” Naomi grinned at her. “My shoulders are stiff as heck. I keep leaning too far over my keyboard.”
“That’s really bad for you,” the masseuse told Naomi. “You should think about getting some ergonomic advice.”
Mia finished her coffee. “Can you stay here for one moment?” she asked the woman. “I need to make a quick phone call.”
“Sure.”
“I’ll leave you here,” Sandy said, giving the masseuse a nod. “I shouldn’t leave the front desk unmanned for too long.”