Chapter Text
Linda doesn’t like him at first, really. He’s so not her type. He’s very boyish; Linda, she’s always liked a burly lumberjack kind of fella. The sort who could pick you up and toss you around a little. (Which, as her marriage taught her, isn’t as great as it sounds.) Worse, he keeps laughing in a circle of self-important Ivy League frat bros. His laugh is the loudest. Linda has dealt with their type enough to flinch at the sound.
But when he comes over to her, something changes. The air wavers slightly, mirage-like, around him. She’s pretty sure it’s not the eggnog.
The eggnog, however, is probably to blame for her poor showing just now at Christmas karaoke. She’d forgotten that to do “Baby, It’s Cold Outside”, you need a duet partner.
Now she’s sitting at her desk, trying to shake off the embarrassment of only realizing she’d been doing something wrong way too far into doing it. Story of her life.
Bradley Preston doesn’t seem to care about the karaoke mishap. He sits on the side of her desk, like he’s been there a million times. Like he owns the place – which he almost does.
“Aw.” He reaches over and pokes one of the reindeer antlers on her headband. “Cute.”
His gaze is warmer than she could have anticipated. He has pretty eyes.
“Thank you,” she says, looking away. Her cheeks are hot. “Mr. Preston.”
“Please. Mr. Preston’s my father. Call me Bradley.”
“Bradley,” Linda echoes obediently.
“And the famous Linda.” He grins. “Linda from accounting.”
“Strategy and planning,” she corrects.
“That’s right. Strategy and planning.” Leaning in conspiratorially, he adds, “So much cooler.”
She laughs. She can’t help it – it just spills out of her. Usually, people don’t like it when she laughs. Bradley Preston doesn’t seem to mind.
He smells drunk and rich and wonderful. She imagines burying her face in his neck. Getting eaten up by that smell.
“So, how’s the daily grind treating you?” he asks affably.
“It’s great,” she says, “it’s really great.”
“And you’re getting along with the old man? He’s playing nice?”
“Oh, sure. Absolutely. Always.”
“I’m glad to hear that. Because if anything’s bugging you around here, y’know, my dad wants to know. You’re the best he’s got. All of these other guys, they’re beneath you on the totem pole. You’re – what’s the word? – indispensable.”
She tries not to smile too big. Her face is on fire. “I try my best.”
“How long have you worked here again?” He taps his knee against her elbow. She feels a tiny electric shock.
“Six years.”
“Six years.” He whistles. “Wow. That’s really something. You don’t get a lot of people with that kind of devotion these days. I really admire that about you, Linda.”
“Thank you.” Daringly, she adds, “Most people don’t.”
“I’m not most people.” She can tell. His stare makes that obvious. No one ever looks at her this long. Not ever. “Six years and we’re only just crossing paths. That’s funny, huh? It seems like it should’ve happened sooner.”
“Well, it’s happening now.” Jeez, what a dumb thing to say.
But he smiles. “It sure is.”
He leans in. Her entire body seizes up, the pleasant cousin of how it used to feel when her husband would cross the room with her in his sights.
Bradley Preston kisses her on the cheek, but a little off kilter. Closer to her lips than her cheekbone.
“Mistletoe,” he explains, and points up at the ceiling. There’s nothing there. He winks at her, then slides off her desk and heads back to his circle of obnoxious men. “Let’s stay in touch, Linda from strategy and planning.”
“Okay.” Linda stares after him, dizzy. Even with him out of her orbit, she can’t breathe.
“So his dad’s got him on the apology tour, huh?”
She turns to see her colleague Iris standing beside her cubicle. “What do you mean?”
“Linda, all that shit that happened to you earlier this year–”
“It didn’t happen to me.”
“–the harassment stuff from Donovan and those other assholes – that was serious. You could sue. Preston knows that. He’s got Junior on damage control.”
“I think he’s just nice,” Linda says, watching Bradley goof around with the other guys. His laugh isn’t so bad this time. Loud, yeah, but Linda is loud too. Maybe loud doesn’t always mean bad.
“This place is toxic as fuck,” declares Iris. “I’m quitting.”
“I don’t know,” says Linda dreamily. “I think with some new leadership, we could really have something special on our hands.”