Make Me Need

He’d told her that...

Cameron frowned. Shit, he hadn’t told her that, had he? He’d been so focused on the thought that she might pull another stunt like working after hours to finish the front office—and get hurt in the process—that he’d barked at her over it. He frowned harder. He wasn’t wrong about telling her not to paint without him. He knew he wasn’t.

But...maybe he could have approached it differently?

“Fuck,” he breathed. He wasn’t equipped to tiptoe around another person’s feelings. If he was, he’d have been better at the client-facing part of this business. Trish wasn’t a client, though. He couldn’t just end a meeting and cease having to deal with her. She’d be in this office, day in and day out.

He had to apologize.

Cameron played through his options a couple times, but there was really only one reality. If she was pissed, it would make the office unlivable. What was more, it made her a whole lot more likely to go ahead and paint the damn boardroom—and potentially hurt herself—when he wasn’t around. Since he wasn’t a fan of either option, he pushed slowly to his feet and went in search of her.

Unsurprisingly, he found her in said boardroom. The chairs around the old table had disappeared somewhere, and she stood on the table, in the process of changing out the overhead light fixture. Cameron froze, not sure if he should rush over to catch her in the event that she fell or that damn light fixture came undone and crashed down on her head.

Trish glanced over and gave him a brilliant smile. “This thing is so coated with some gross combination of dust and time that I’m calling it a wash and tossing it.”

“Okay,” he said slowly. A smiling Trish was not what he expected. Was this a trap? “You seem...not mad.”

“Why would I be mad, Cameron?” Her tone was as sweet as honey, but her use of his name might as well have been a hook in the gut.

This was most definitely a trap. He cleared his throat. “Earlier, I didn’t mean to—”

“To question my competence? To treat me like I’m a child in need of tending?” Every single word was that blend of sweet and sharp, until it was a wonder he didn’t bleed out on the floor at her feet. She turned to face him, the light fixture in her hands, as regal as a queen despite the streak of dust over the shoulder of her shirt and what appeared to be a cobweb clinging to her curls near her face. Trish looked down her nose at him. “If you have a problem with the way I do my job, that’s fine. You’re my boss. You’re more than entitled to correct and/or punish me as you see fit.”

He got hung up on the word punish and had to force himself back to task.

She wasn’t done, though. “That said, if you ever talk to me like that again, I’m out. I took this job as a favor to Aaron and, yeah, I kind of need it, but I don’t need it badly enough to put up with that level of disrespect. I get that you don’t handle people well, but at some point you’re just making excuses for bad behavior that’s inexcusable...” She trailed off, her breath coming too fast, and seemed to realize she was yelling at him. Trish clutched the light fixture closer to her chest. “So...there.”

God, she was something else. Fired up and willing to put him in his place, though she had to be truly pissed to have let the peppy sunbeam mask slip. Cameron leaned against the doorjamb. “I’m sorry.”

“Why, you—” Trish blinked. “What?”

“You’re right. I was out of line. I’m sorry.” He stepped farther into the room and held out a hand.

Looking dazed, she took it and allowed him to guide her off the table. He finally managed to relax a little once her feet were both firmly on the floor. Trish gave him a suspicious look. “Why are you being so agreeable?”

“Contrary to what your brother thinks, I can see reason on occasion. I was worried about you falling again, and so I overreacted. But you’re right, I’m your boss.” He almost choked over the words—the reminder—but powered through. “Talking to an employee like that isn’t okay.”

“Exactly.” She still didn’t look convinced this wasn’t some kind of trick.

That made two of them.

Cameron...didn’t do this. He didn’t do interpersonal relationships. Too damn bad. Going to have to figure it out as you go, and it’s one hell of a learning curve. He didn’t move from his spot. “I respectfully request that you either hire out for the painting or wait until after hours when I can help you.”

Trish opened her mouth like she was going to snap back but seemed to consider. “It’s an unnecessary expense to hire such a small job out when I’m more than capable of handling it. For that matter, there’s no reason for you to take time away from your...whatever it is you do for leisure...to help me. I have it covered.”

She had it covered all the way to an ER visit with a broken arm. Or worse.

He met her gaze steadily. “When are you buying the paint?”

Cameron could almost see the gears whirling in her head as she tried to find a way out of this. He could have told her there was no way out. He wouldn’t let her paint this room by herself, and her little stunt this weekend had shown her hand—if she thought she could get away with it, she’d do it behind his back to avoid dealing with him.

If she was anyone else, he would have found her independence a relief. It meant he could focus on his job and let her do hers. But Trish wasn’t anyone else—she was Trish. He needed to keep her safe, even if that meant keeping her safe from working herself to the bone.

Finally, she sighed. “I’m going to pick it up after work.”

“Pick it up tomorrow.” He didn’t bother to keep the command out of his voice. If she went and got it after hours, she’d be right back here the second he wasn’t looking.

She’s not a wayward puppy, asshole. She’s a person.

Yes, she was. A person who had excellent work ethic and showed every evidence of being just as stubborn as her older brother—the same older brother Cameron would have to answer to if something happened to her. That was all. It was simple, really. Not in the least bit complicated. He certainly didn’t have any ulterior motives.

Trish narrowed her eyes. “You can’t tell me what to do after hours.”

“It concerns this job, so I sure as hell can. We’ll take a long lunch tomorrow and paint the damn boardroom. You can pick up the paint late morning beforehand.”

For a moment, it seemed like she’d keep arguing, but then she gave him a brilliant smile. “Sure thing, Mr. O’Clery.” Trish turned on her heel and marched out of the room.

Okay, that was definitely a trap.

CHAPTER FIVE

TRISH ALMOST SAID to hell with it and bought the paint anyway. She got so far as to leave her apartment and start in the direction of the store... But common sense reared its ugly head. Cameron might have been kind of an ass with his command for her to wait, but he’d also apologized and he wasn’t being completely unreasonable with wanting to help. It might even be kind of nice for the job to go faster.

Honesty, Trish.

She huffed out a breath and turned in the opposite direction. “The honest truth is that I’m pissed that when he said we’d talk, he meant he’d treat me like a child instead of kissing me again.” She shot a look around her, half expecting Cameron to melt out of a nearby shadow and call her on her idiocy. There was only the normal foot traffic at this time in the early evening, and they were obviously all NYC natives, because they didn’t so much as blink at her talking to herself like a crazy person.

She grabbed dinner from the little Chinese place a few blocks down and carted it back to her apartment. Behind locked doors, she finally sighed. Okay, my pride was hurt. I let it get the best of me. We both agreed that the first kiss was a mistake that shouldn’t be repeated...but that doesn’t stop me from wanting a repeat.

The trilling of her phone drew her out of her thoughts. When Trish saw it was her mother, she almost deliberately missed the call. It had been a long day and she didn’t have the energy to reassure her mother—and through her mother, her father—that she was doing just fine in the big, scary city. She knew for a fact that Aaron hadn’t been subjected to these worried phone calls when he moved here.

She took a deep breath and put as much smile into her voice as she was capable of. “Hey, Mom.”

“Trish, there you are! I was worried when you didn’t pick up.”

That was her mother. The eternal worrier. She’d been born and raised in Lake Placid and had always harbored a hope that her daughters would do the same. Trish’s older sister, Mary, had followed that path. She’d married her high school sweetheart and settled in after college to become an elementary school teacher. Mary was practically perfect in every way. She didn’t keep her mother up at night, worrying herself to death.

No, that role had always fallen to Trish.

She kicked her cheerfulness up a notch—the only way to combat her mother’s concern when she got like that. “I was just about to sit down to dinner.”

“Dinner? Trish, it’s after seven. You haven’t been working this whole time! Aaron said that partner of his was a good boss, but if he’s got you working twelve-hour days, that’s abuse!” Her voice took on strident tones.

Trish repressed a sigh. “Mom, you’re getting worked up for no reason. I’m eating late because I stopped by Aaron’s to see my new niece and got distracted with her adorableness.” There’s no need to lead an army down here to haul me back home. An army of three—her mom, her dad and Mary—but no less fearsome for its numbers. Though her mom hadn’t been happy about her needing to move back home after college, she hadn’t exactly shed a tear to have her youngest daughter under their roof again. Now she was treating this move like Trish had left for college all over again.

And was just as helpless and out of her element as she’d been at eighteen.

“I worry about you. That city—”

“Mom.” If she didn’t do something drastic, her mother would end up on an hour-long spiel about all the ways she could get mugged or worse in New York. It didn’t matter that Trish had found an apartment crazy close to where she worked or that she’d pulled it from a list that Aaron himself had put together. New York City terrified their mother and she would spill that feeling over at every opportunity, whether she meant to or not.

Unless Trish distracted her, she’d be up all night running scenarios—each more terrifying than the last—and her mother would call tomorrow and be a total mess. She cast a longing look at her cooling Chinese food and resigned herself to a reheated meal. “Did Aaron send you the pictures he took of Summer? She was especially cute today. He says she can’t really smile yet, but I swear to God she was smiling at me.”

The distraction worked. Her mother went on to gush about how Aaron did a video call with her and the baby, and wasn’t his fiancée the sweetest thing, though goodness, they should be married by now if they’re having babies. Through it all, Trish’s mind wandered...right back to Cameron.

She wanted him to kiss her again.

Or, rather, she wanted to kiss him again. To do more than kiss. To break half a dozen rules and regulations that she wasn’t even sure Tandem Security had in place.

Not to mention that Aaron might lose his damn mind if he finds out I’m lusting after his business partner.

She blinked, realizing that her mother had been silent for a beat too long. Trish faked a yawn. “Mom, I have to go. I have a big day tomorrow, and I want a full night’s rest.”

The silence extended for a beat. Another. Then her mother sniffled. “I just wish you were here.”

Oh good Lord. She was going to devolve to sobbing next, and Trish was too tired to be sure she wouldn’t snap in response. She was twenty-fucking-four years old. She couldn’t live at home forever. She understood that her mother’s empty-nest syndrome was in full force, but Trish couldn’t form her entire freaking life around making her mother feel fulfilled. Not that her mom wanted her to. Not exactly. She was just emotional and weepy and Trish wasn’t capable of stepping back and cutting the cord fully. It would hurt her mom and she didn’t deal out pain—only good things.

So she cleared her throat and smiled so hard that her cheeks hurt. “Mom, how am I supposed to find a man to make an honest woman of me and have a bunch of babies for you to spoil if I’m living in the same room I’ve had since birth? Aaron needs me right now. I can’t leave him hanging.”

Leveraging Aaron’s name got her mom back under control. She gave another sniffle, but the wavering quality of her voice evened out. “You’re right. Of course you’re right. It’s just so hard not seeing you.”

“I know, Mom.” She touched the side of her Chinese food container and sighed. Cold. “I’ll talk to you later.”

It took another five minutes to actually end the call, and by the time she did, it was all she could do to sink onto her couch. Trish stared at her cold dinner and fought against the burning in her throat. She wasn’t overwhelmed. She was capable and positive and could handle anything the world threw at her.