Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 97079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
I stop short when I spot Essie sitting in the waiting room outside our offices. She looks like she stepped out of a summer advertisement. Her long, dark hair falls in waves over her shoulders, contrasting with her pale, floral-print dress and strappy sandals. Her bag matches her dress, and she has a binder in her lap, as well as a tablet and her phone.
Panic makes my heart race, and my already sweaty palms dampen further. “What are you doing here?”
Her head lifts and a wide, beautiful smile curves her annoyingly luscious lips. “Waiting for you.”
“But…why? Are Rix and Tristan okay? Did something happen?” I remind myself she wouldn’t be sitting here smiling if things had gone sideways.
“Rix and Tristan are fine.” She pushes to her feet. “I need to discuss a few things with you, and they’re pressing.”
Greg is still standing beside me, and Jennie, the head receptionist, is watching this go down with more interest than I would like. She keeps telling me about her niece who just graduated from university. Like I would ever date someone related to a person I work with.
“Come into my office.” I take the binder and tablet from her and lead her down the hall, closing the door once we’re inside. “You couldn’t have messaged?”
“I tried. Several times. You didn’t respond.” Her smile stays firmly in place.
I dig my phone out of my pocket. I have unread messages from last night and more from this morning. “I had a big presentation. I would have responded this afternoon.”
“I need an answer before this afternoon, so here I am. How did the presentation go?” That smile stays firmly on her pretty, glossy lips.
“Huh?”
“The presentation? How did it go?” Her attention catches on the wall across the room, and she heads toward it.
“It was fine.” I can’t imagine Essie giving a shit about my career goals.
While my office lacks a lot of personal touches, that particular wall feels a lot like diary entries for work. All my sketches are tacked to the corkboard. Organized neatly, of course, but still, that wall is the only space in this office that isn’t clutter free. The whiteboard is full of notes and formulas, all of which pertain to the presentation I just gave. I came in early to review before the meeting to be sure I had it all locked down.
She tilts her head. “What’s all this?”
“Just stuff I’m working on.” I could literally talk for hours about what I do for a living, but most people gap out after about thirty seconds.
She reaches out and brushes her long, delicate fingers along the edge of one of my earliest designs. It’s basic, and unfinished, but also a reminder of how far I’ve come in the past several months.
She glances over her shoulder. I don’t know how to read her expression, but her eyes move over me on a sweep that makes my body feel like a live wire. Her voice is soft and reverent when she speaks. “This is like…scientific art.”
I brush off the compliment. “It’s rudimentary.”
“What are these formulas for?” she asks.
Like she’s genuinely curious. Like she actually wants to know what I do, beyond the title of engineer.
But I like to keep my workspace devoid of distractions. Which means I need her out of here as soon as possible. I don’t want the memory of Essie looking intrigued, and sexy, and determined, smelling like cotton fucking candy haunting me while I’m trying to design. I already think about her in the shower every damn morning these days.
“You wouldn’t understand.” I’ve tried to explain it to people outside of work, and their eyes just glaze over.
Essie shoots me a look.
I redirect the conversation before it turns into another one I get to feel bad about. “You had something you want to discuss. What is it?”
She rolls her shoulders back, eyes no longer lit up with interest. “The Plinko board, have you made it?”
“It’s handled.” I haven’t started it, but I still have time.
“So you have it?” she presses. “Do you need help finishing it?”
“No. I definitely don’t need help.” It’s bad enough that I’ll have the memory of her standing in my office. I don’t need her in my apartment trying to help me build something. “I’ll have it ready for the weekend.” Which is when we need it.
She crosses her arms. This draws attention to her chest and reminds me that I’ve seen her nipples. My dick tingles. I think about the day my mom left. It works, but also darkens my mood.
“If you can’t follow through, Nathan, I need to know. We are five days away from the stag and doe. I’d like it to go as smoothly as possible for Tristan and Rix. Do you have a way to get it to Huntsville? Because if you don’t, we need to make a plan.”