The Monday after Thanksgiving was always difficult, but Myra was in good spirits as she walked into work. The warm San Diego weather held strong all weekend and she'd taken full advantage, spending a few good hours at the beach on Saturday and Sunday. On land, Myra was clumsy, she readily admitted this, but in the water, with the waves and her surfboard, she felt like a different person – strong, capable, in control. All the Valentine siblings enjoyed the beach and surfing, but Myra and Rhonda were the two dubbed “surfer-chicks”, even though neither of them looked it from the outside. “Undercover surfers” is what her father called them.

She plopped down in her chair, hung her purse on the hook she'd installed under her desk, and leaned back with a sigh. The rows of cubicles that were usually full at the busy Whitfield Designs, were remarkably empty. She was wondering if she'd missed a memo when Adam, her coworker and one of three cube-mates, popped his head over their divider, startling her.

"Thought I was working alone today." He smiled down at her.

She laughed. "I was just thinking I'd missed a memo or something. This is kind of weird."

"Mr. Whitfield is here." Adam came around the cubical wall to stand by her chair.

He was a nice guy, always acting gentlemanly and sweet, but he got a little too close, took up a little too much of her personal space. He'd never given her a reason to question his character and she took some comfort in the fact that he did the same thing with everyone, but she still didn't like how closely he hovered.

"I should go check in with him." Myra turned her chair-back towards Adam to create some distance as she stood, making sure to keep her hips from swaying when she walked to the boss's office. Most people viewed her as naive, but she knew how she looked, and she knew men looked. Well, most men. Not the one man she actually wanted to look.

In high-school, she'd adopted a shabby-chic dress style that allowed her to express creativity through clothing while keeping the important bits fully covered. Low-cut, short, and tight, were all off-the-table items. Some girls knew what they had and flaunted it. Myra was agonizingly uncomfortable flaunting anything. Her wardrobe consisted mostly of loose, colorful, full coverage options. And shoes.

Lots of shoes.

Shoes her dad bought for her because she wouldn't let him pay her rent. She would let him buy her shoes. And, because she couldn't buy shoes on her salary when she was paying her own rent and her own car note.

She tapped her knuckles on David Whitfield's door, then waited for his summons before opening it and stepping inside.

"Hello Myra." Her boss greeted her with a warm smile.

"Hi, Mr. Whitfield." Myra returned his smile. "How was your thanksgiving?"

He shuffled some papers on his desk. "It was hectic." He smiled at her again. "My wife and I spent Thursday with her family, Friday with mine, and Saturday we shopped all day for a Christmas tree we'd found within five minutes of being on the lot."

Myra laughed. "I'll probably do that. I'm going with Keegan to get my tree after work."

"Lucky for your brother," David stated sarcastically. "The tree lot closes at nine, so you have a deadline. Shut the door behind you and come sit down, Myra."

He gestured to the door, then to one of the chairs in front of his massive Mahogany desk.

She closed the door quietly and pulled out one plush, leather chair, sinking into it while her stomach sank too. What could he possibly have to say to her behind closed doors? Her mind raced through all the ways she could have screwed up during her year at Whitfield Designs. She always worked hard to do her absolute best on every project that came her way, but sometimes clients were unreasonably difficult. Her boss' chuckle caused her to look up abruptly. She didn't even realize she'd been staring at her hands, fidgeting.

"Myra, you have nothing to worry about." He steepled his fingers under his chin, looking at her intently. "I gave you this job as a favor to your father. Did you know that?"

Myra shook her head, working hard to keep the hurt from rising to the surface. She had her job because of her father? And she didn't have anything to worry about because her employment was a favor to him. She bit her bottom lip, trying to squelch the emotions bubbling inside her.

"Myra, look at me."

Her head snapped up and she met his level gaze with some difficulty.

"Let me finish." He admonished. "Before you go break your father's heart by being mad at him."

She was mad, she realized. Piping mad, but she nodded for Mr. Whitfield to continue.

"Your father asked, but I gave you the job because on paper, you looked like you had potential." He paused before continuing. "You have far exceeded my expectations, Myra."

He smiled a genuine smile, which she returned with a wobbly one of her own.

"I hire a lot of young people because someone did the same for me. Someone believed in me when I had no real credentials except a degree, and that gave me the confidence to do my very best work, to throw myself into the thing that I loved. Design. I owe my success today to my start. Do you love design, Myra?"

"Yes." She answered without hesitation.

"What do you love about it?" He asked.

"I love getting it right." She said hesitantly, unsure if that sounded too brazen. "What I mean,” She added quickly. “Is that I love taking what's in someone's head, this idea they have that they don't necessarily know how to express, and expressing it for them. I feel so satisfied, fulfilled, when they say, ‘it's like you were in my head’. And when they say thank you and they mean it, because I did exactly what they wanted when they didn’t even know what they really wanted. I like that part too."

Myra held her breath. She'd never said all that before. Hearing it, she was afraid she sounded arrogant. That wasn’t how she meant to sound, but he'd asked and she given the most honest answer she’d ever given to anyone.

David grinned. A big, lopsided grin, and laughed, clapping his hands. "I knew it!" He exclaimed. "You remind me so much of myself at your age, Myra. How do you feel about having your own team?"

She blinked. Had she heard him correctly?

"M-my own team, sir?"

"Yes. Myra, your work is exceptional, you've proven your ability to handle the most difficult clients I can throw at you. I don't think you know it yet, but you have the potential to be a great leader."

Myra was stunned in the best possible way. No one gave her responsibility on purpose, ever.

"Mr. Whitfield, I'm not sure. I would like to try, but I've never led anyone in my life..."

Mr. Whitfield held up a hand. "Before you doubt yourself out of this opportunity, how about this - starting January first, you will be promoted as a lead designer and I'll put two people on your team. You can pick them, or I'll do it for you. Give it a try. If, in three months’ time, you no longer want to lead, you can go back to the title of designer and work on any team you want. How does that sound?"

Myra couldn't believe how generous he was being. "Yes." She nodded emphatically. "Yes, I'll do it, and I'll do my very best to be a good leader."

He smiled and stood, extending his hand across the desk.

"I know you will. Congratulations, Myra."

She took his hand, shaking it enthusiastically, but still a bit shocked at this turn of events. "Thank you, Mr. Whitfield. Thank you for this opportunity!”

* * *

Myra practically floated back to her cube. No more of that. Leads had their own offices. And design boards. She grinned to herself, thinking about having her own board to fill with all her fabulous ideas.

"I take it you had a good talk."

Adam poked his head over the top of her cube just as she lowered herself to her chair.

"Yes." She replied with a smile. She wasn't going to say a word to her coworkers. She would let Mr. Whitfield make the announcement. Adam opened his mouth to say something else when Myra's phone chirped. She'd missed a call from Keegan.

"Hold that thought." She told Adam, swiping across her screen to listen to the voicemail.

With a frown and a sigh, she hung up after listening to Keegan's message.

"Disappointing news?"

Myra glanced up to see Adam still looking at her over the wall. Didn't he have work to do?

"My brother." She explained. "He was supposed to help me get my Christmas tree after work, but he had something come up."

Adams eyes lit up, but he had the decency to say how sorry he was about Keegan cancelling before pitching his own offer. "I have a pick-up. I could carry your tree for you."

She thought he sounded too enthusiastic, but didn't want to just turn him down.

"It's okay. I don't want to inconvenience you."

“It's no inconvenience." He countered firmly. "I'm more than happy to do it for you."

Myra thought about it for a minute and decided that she would take his help to pick up the tree. Just to get it from the tree lot to her apartment.

"Okay.” She smiled gratefully. "I do appreciate it. Getting a Christmas tree is the thing I look forward to all year."

Adam grinned enthusiastically rubbing his hands together. "Perfect. This is perfect. I'm so happy you're letting me get your tree with you!"

"O-kay. Shouldn't you get back to work now?" She fluttered her hand to shoo him away.

A few hours later, Mr. Whitfield came out of his office to announce that everyone could leave early if they wanted to. The day was done, as far as he was concerned, and they should all be ready to hit the ground running tomorrow. Myra was so excited about getting her tree, she was practically buzzing.

Adam popped around the cubicle. “I’m ready whenever you are, beautiful lady."

Myra gave a half-hearted smile at the compliment. She hoped she wouldn't have to put up with his cheesy one-liners the whole time she was tree shopping. "I'm ready, Adam. You can follow me, okay?” She grabbed her keys, purse and sweater, and headed for the door.

* * *

A record-breaking hour and a half later, Myra had found her perfect tree. She had to give Adam credit. The guy had been a real trooper, not complaining about all her comparisons between trees, even helping her look at some side by side when she was having a really hard time deciding.

"Adam, you've been wonderful. Thank you." She gave him a grateful smile while the crewmen secured her tree in Adam's truck bed.

"It's been my pleasure." He replied genuinely. "I haven't been Christmas tree shopping in a long time, so thank you, Myra."

"You're welcome." She put her hands on her hips, looked with satisfaction at the tree that would adorn her little apartment, and smiled to herself. Adam followed her back to her place, which was just a couple of blocks from the tree lot, and on their way, she called Keegan to tell him that her coworker ended up helping with the tree, so he didn't need to feel bad about not being able to do it. Everything worked out just fine.

Fortunately, Myra had a floor-level apartment, so there were no stairs to contend with. Adam, who turned out to be stronger than he looked, carried the tree by himself, setting it in the corner she directed him to. They stood back to look at it, then Myra fluffed some branches and stepped back to observe it again.

"What do you think?" She asked, still assessing the placement of the tree.

"I think it looks great right there."

He reached for her hand, startling her, and pulled her straight into his arms. She gasped, laughing nervously as he kept holding her in a firm embrace.

"Thank you so much, Myra.” He kissed the top of her head.

Weird.

“You have no idea what this means to me."

She relaxed slightly. He was grateful for the inclusion in some holiday joy, that was all. Myra pushed back with a smile she didn't feel, but he didn't release her. "Um, hey. You're welcome. I really want to thank you for all your help. You've been great, but I think I can handle the rest of it from here."

"Myra, you're such an amazing woman. So beautiful and smart. You really are my dream girl come to life."

Ok. It had just gone from slightly awkward, to weird and uncomfortable. She squirmed in his arms, trying to push away, but Adam just held her more tightly. When one of his hands moved from behind her to grab the side of her face, fear turned her stomach.

"Adam! What are you…” Her protest was swallowed up when his mouth covered hers in a bruising kiss. Myra squealed and jerked violently, but she was so little and he was so much stronger, her efforts were useless. Fear bathed her as she tried to think, but her brain wouldn't cooperate. Finally working one hand out from the place where he'd crushed their bodies together, she gave his shoulder a hard shove and broke his mouth from hers.

"What the hell, Adam!? Let me go!"

He released her momentarily, but the look in his eyes sent a chill straight down her spine.

"Come on Myra," he took a step forward and she took one back. "You can't deny this thing between us. You're such a little tease." He cocked his head, looking like a hungry velociraptor, and she was his next meal.

"No!" She said emphatically. "There is NO thing between us, Adam." Shaking her head, making cutting gestures with her hands, she tried shuffling toward the door, but he reached out, catching her by the arm.

"My brother is coming over." She stumbled over the words.

"Uh, uh, uh. I don't think so." He wagged his finger in front of her face. "You said your brother cancelled on you." He looked at her with huge, fake puppy-dog eyes, pouting his bottom lip.

"Lying, Myra? I'm so disappointed." He gave a big sigh. "I guess that means I'll have to punish you." He finished with a growl that made her throat go dry. Adam began dragging her toward her bedroom while she clawed at the wall, yelling at him to let her go, punching at his back. When she lost her footing and tripped, his hold jerking her shoulder painfully, she shrieked. Adam threw her violently to her bed, and then her mind was racing.

Think Myra, THINK!

There had to be something she could do, some way she could stop this madness. Couldn’t the neighbors hear her? Surely someone will call the police, she thought desperately.

Myra looked around her little bedroom frantically.

Adam ripped off his shirt and her heart stopped.

The phone rang.

Adam paused and Myra swallowed hard, her eyes darting to the landline on her nightstand.

The phone rang again.

Adam put a finger to his lips as if the caller would be able to hear him.

"Myra," Keegan, it was Keegan! "I got out of the thing, so I'm on my way over. Hope you're home. I'll be there in two."

Myra threw wide-eyes back to Adam who was grabbing his shirt and turning for the door.

"This isn't over Myra." He sneered at her. "I will have you."

Adam turned and fled the apartment as Myra sagged back on her bed with a sob, then quickly jumped and ran to the front door. She closed it and bolted the lock, then turned her back to the hard surface and slid to the floor. Wrapping her arms around her knees, she attempted to still the tremors that wracked her body. Nothing Happened. She closed her eyes, repeated the words over and over to herself. Nothing Happened. She jumped with a squeal at the knock on her door.

"Myra?"

"Keegan!" She cried, jumping up, swinging the door wide and jumping into his arms.

Keegan held her in stunned silence for a moment before moving them through the doorway, closing the door behind them. "What's wrong?" Concern creased his brow, even as his jaw ticked, his lips drawing to a thin line. "Myra, what happened?" Keegan’s eyes darkened as he stared down at her, studying her face.

Myra took a step back, shook her head. "Nothing I'm ok I'm fine.” She rambled. “Nothing happened nothing happened.”

A sob escaped her lips and she put her fist to her mouth, then sobbed again.

* * *

Keegan swore under his breath, picked Myra up and carried her like a child to the sofa where he sat, pulled her against himself, and waited. His every cell hummed with building rage. She was his baby sister. Of all the Valentine kids, Myra was the sweetest, most kind-hearted. Being her senior by twelve years, he'd always done everything in his power to protect her. The thought of anyone, especially a man, doing harm to her made his blood boil. So he waited, stomach tied in knots, for her to speak.

She lifted a trembling hand to wipe the moisture from her cheeks and he kissed the top of her head, closing his eyes to focus himself.

"He was going to," She began in a small voice. "t-to do something, if you hadn't come."

She sobbed again and he clenched his jaw.

"Keegan, I’m sorry!" She wailed.

He pushed her back, placed his fingers beneath her chin and tilted her face to look at him. He tried to keep the anger out of his voice because Myra would take it as if it was directed at her.

"Listen to me, Myra. You are not the one who should be sorry. You have no fault here."

"But I knew. I knew I was uncomfortable around him and I let him help me, let him into my apartment anyway." The tears rolled down her cheeks, but she kept her eyes steady on his.

"You should use better judgement, listen to your instincts." He encouraged. "But what he did is entirely on him."

"He said he would be back, Keegan." Her voice trembled and Keegan’s jaw clenched as he pulled her more tightly into his embrace.

"Myra, we need to go to the police, make a report." He said as gently as he could. "I don't know what the process is, but you should press charges." He paused before saying his next words carefully. "You're not the first, I'm sure. People like him keep going until someone speaks up against them." When she nodded, he sighed in relief. It would be a difficult thing to do, but he would be with her, he wouldn’t leave her side for a moment.