Total pages in book: 190
Estimated words: 185785 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 929(@200wpm)___ 743(@250wpm)___ 619(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 185785 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 929(@200wpm)___ 743(@250wpm)___ 619(@300wpm)
I bite my lip, wondering if he looked in the bag.
I can smell his shampoo and his bodywash. His aftershave. His hair is still wet. He looks amazing. And pissed off.
“Morning,” he says, passing me the cup.
“Thank you.” I avoid his eyes. They’re burning into me, though – I know it.
“Mm hm.”
He pours coffee to-go for himself and pops the lid on.
“Ready?” he asks.
My eyes finally meet his.
He hasn’t smiled. Now he’s not even looking me in the face. He’s being all-business.
My heart sinks. “Yep.”
***
He opens the car door for me and closes it behind me. He then says nothing on the way to the office. Not one thing. Neither do I.
His face is expressionless, but there’s a definite vibe of something that wasn’t there before. It’s formal. And it makes me more uncomfortable than when he was being too familiar.
We’re even in a different vehicle today, an SUV, and this means more space between us than in his sports car.
“See you at five,” he says pulling up to the curb.
“Have a good day,” I say and our eyes meet.
His are cold. Cold enough to chill me to the marrow. I swallow and get out of the car, clumsily dropping my purse and then getting half caught in the car door before I finally find my way onto the sidewalk. The door is barely closed before he squeals away.
Squeals.
He can’t get away fast enough.
Shit.
Monday passes in a busy blur and I’m grateful to have not too much time to think about anything but my job. I have a working lunch meeting with a vendor, deal with several rush orders and a lost shipment snafu, and then a system crash trying to send a purchase order to my biggest supplier, and before I know it, five o’clock hits and I’m filled with dread. I send a text to Killian.
“I’m sorry. I’m having a system problem and didn’t realize it was five already. I need another half an hour or so before I can leave. I’m so sorry. I can take a cab to your place.”
Truthfully, it might only be ten minutes for me to sort out the issue, though it could be longer. I don’t know. But I also don’t relish the thought of being in a car with him after this morning, so it’ll work to my advantage if he leaves. Maybe he’ll be pissed enough about wasting the trip that he’ll let me start taking my own car again.
As soon as I have this thought, I don’t want it. I kind of like that he’s taking me to work and picking me up.
A minute goes by while I re-boot my system and I take that time to dash to the other side of the office where I know I can look down to see the front of the building.
He’s there, at the curb. I wonder if he got my text.
I go back to my desk and see the reply.
Killian: “I’ll wait.”
Shit.
I tap out a reply.
“Ok. I’ll try to hurry. Sorry.”
It takes me until five twenty before I’m done.
As I step outside, I see him reclined in the driver’s seat, looking like he’s taking a nap.
Before I can get all the way there, he’s snapped up to sitting position, is out, rounding the SUV and opening my door for me.
“Hi. Sorry about that,” I whisper, feeling like my cheeks are burning up.
He flexes his jaw, but then speaks gently. “It’s fine. Everything okay?”
“Yeah, just a problem with my system talking to the other server at the… never mind. It’s just kind of archaic the way we do things with this one supplier, so yeah, it’s fine. I got it all done.” I click my seatbelt and he shuts the door and comes back around.
“How are you?” I ask.
“Y’know,” he replies with a shrug.
He starts up and off we go.
I don’t know. But okay, more of the same vibe as this morning lingers in the air.
“I’m dropping you off and then I’ve got stuff to do, so you’re on your own for dinner. We left before Patricia arrived this morning, so you didn’t get a chance to meet her. She wasn’t planning to come back until next Monday, she has something happening Thursday, but if there’s anything you need or want done, I’ll have her come another day this week.”
“I’m good,” I say.
“You can meet her next Monday then.”
“That’s probably not even necessary,” I reply.
He shoots me a strange look, so I explain. “Next Monday we’re almost at the… you know…two-week mark.”
His eyes go back to the road. Annoyed. I’m pretty sure that’s what the look was.
“So, um, yeah. I’ll be going home, I guess, and so it’s probably pointless to introduce me to your staff.”
“We’ll see what happens,” he mumbles.
What does that mean? I don’t ask. I fiddle with the zipper on my coat for the rest of the short ride back to his place amid tense silence.