Jensen:: A Military Bad Boy Romance (The Bradford Brothers Book 1) by Juliana Conners Page A
Authors: Juliana Conners
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misery.
He gets out of his chair and walks around to my side of the desk. I begin to think it’s to give me a hug but instead he puts his arm around me and walks me to the door of his office.
“There, there. It’ll be okay. You’re always a fighter. You always come up on top.”
He opens the door, ready to deposit me and our relationship on the street just like his father had done with my job.
“When will we talk again?” I ask, like an idiot.
“Let’s just give it a cooling off period and see what happens,” he says, with a smile, as if he’s being kind to me.
I turn around and walk out to the elevators— shoulders back, head up, as cool and collected as I can possibly act— before anyone at the firm can see me in this sorry state. I’ll come back later to collect my things. Mr. Holt hadn’t told me what to do with them but I’m assuming they’re not going to let my office sit occupied by my things while I’m not here.
As I leave the building, my shock soon turns to anger. Just like that, I’m single and unemployed. But I’m determined to save both my relationship and my career, and Brian’s right that I always come out on top. I always get what I want.
I hear the wise version of myself whisper: It’s just that for the first time in a long time, the only reason I want it so badly is because I’ve been deprived of it. Shut up , I tell that voice. I do want this and I will get it back. You just watch.
Do it. Just do it.
I’m at home, and I figure what do I have to lose? I’m in need of a salary, and I know that this position could help my chances of getting back to the firm. I’m just not that excited about representing criminals.
But what if it’s that Jensen dude?
A chill runs down my spine. I still can’t figure out why I hate him yet feel strangely attracted to him. And I need to keep thoughts of him out of this. I have to worry seriously about saving my career, not have wistful, conflicting thoughts about some loser criminal with tattoos and a beard that’s way too long. He’s not even my type, at all, in any way, shape or form.
“Tim McDonald,” says Tim’s voice after I’m put on hold for a few minutes.
“Hello Mr. McDonald.” I clear my throat, hoping I didn’t just croak out his name. “This is Riley Morrell.”
“Oh yes, Riley!” His tone sounds instantly more cheerful. “I was beginning to think I’d never hear from you again. I know the prison setting can be scary, but that’s really how you had to be thrown into the organization…”
“I understand, Mr. McDonald.”
“Call me Tim. Please.”
“All right. Tim. I was thinking about what you said before about there possibly being a paid position available?”
“Oh.” There’s silence, and I feel rejected for the third time today. “Well this is a bit of a surprise. I meant maybe later, down the road, if you decided you preferred working for us over… your current firm…”
“How about a trial run?” I ask him. I force myself to choke the words out, knowing I’m being a bit deceptive, but feeling that I’m faced with no other choice. “A temporary, even part-time if necessary, job? If I like it, I’ll stay there. If not, there’s always Holt.”
“Well. I’ll certainly see what I can do.” There’s a long pause, and I can tell he’s seriously considering it. It feels good to be wanted again, even if it is by a non-profit organization. “We have a shoestring budget and I didn’t anticipate such an addition to the payroll… and we certainly couldn’t pay you anything close to what I’m sure you’re used to…”
“I understand.”
I don’t even want to know how low the salary will be. I just want to know I have something in place… some kind of job lined up. Something to do with all my seemingly endless free time that’s suddenly been bestowed upon me.
I hate uncertainty more than anything else. I would feel like such a loser without any kind of job at all, and I
He gets out of his chair and walks around to my side of the desk. I begin to think it’s to give me a hug but instead he puts his arm around me and walks me to the door of his office.
“There, there. It’ll be okay. You’re always a fighter. You always come up on top.”
He opens the door, ready to deposit me and our relationship on the street just like his father had done with my job.
“When will we talk again?” I ask, like an idiot.
“Let’s just give it a cooling off period and see what happens,” he says, with a smile, as if he’s being kind to me.
I turn around and walk out to the elevators— shoulders back, head up, as cool and collected as I can possibly act— before anyone at the firm can see me in this sorry state. I’ll come back later to collect my things. Mr. Holt hadn’t told me what to do with them but I’m assuming they’re not going to let my office sit occupied by my things while I’m not here.
As I leave the building, my shock soon turns to anger. Just like that, I’m single and unemployed. But I’m determined to save both my relationship and my career, and Brian’s right that I always come out on top. I always get what I want.
I hear the wise version of myself whisper: It’s just that for the first time in a long time, the only reason I want it so badly is because I’ve been deprived of it. Shut up , I tell that voice. I do want this and I will get it back. You just watch.
Do it. Just do it.
I’m at home, and I figure what do I have to lose? I’m in need of a salary, and I know that this position could help my chances of getting back to the firm. I’m just not that excited about representing criminals.
But what if it’s that Jensen dude?
A chill runs down my spine. I still can’t figure out why I hate him yet feel strangely attracted to him. And I need to keep thoughts of him out of this. I have to worry seriously about saving my career, not have wistful, conflicting thoughts about some loser criminal with tattoos and a beard that’s way too long. He’s not even my type, at all, in any way, shape or form.
“Tim McDonald,” says Tim’s voice after I’m put on hold for a few minutes.
“Hello Mr. McDonald.” I clear my throat, hoping I didn’t just croak out his name. “This is Riley Morrell.”
“Oh yes, Riley!” His tone sounds instantly more cheerful. “I was beginning to think I’d never hear from you again. I know the prison setting can be scary, but that’s really how you had to be thrown into the organization…”
“I understand, Mr. McDonald.”
“Call me Tim. Please.”
“All right. Tim. I was thinking about what you said before about there possibly being a paid position available?”
“Oh.” There’s silence, and I feel rejected for the third time today. “Well this is a bit of a surprise. I meant maybe later, down the road, if you decided you preferred working for us over… your current firm…”
“How about a trial run?” I ask him. I force myself to choke the words out, knowing I’m being a bit deceptive, but feeling that I’m faced with no other choice. “A temporary, even part-time if necessary, job? If I like it, I’ll stay there. If not, there’s always Holt.”
“Well. I’ll certainly see what I can do.” There’s a long pause, and I can tell he’s seriously considering it. It feels good to be wanted again, even if it is by a non-profit organization. “We have a shoestring budget and I didn’t anticipate such an addition to the payroll… and we certainly couldn’t pay you anything close to what I’m sure you’re used to…”
“I understand.”
I don’t even want to know how low the salary will be. I just want to know I have something in place… some kind of job lined up. Something to do with all my seemingly endless free time that’s suddenly been bestowed upon me.
I hate uncertainty more than anything else. I would feel like such a loser without any kind of job at all, and I
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