Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 91058 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91058 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
She frowned at me then turned back to rejoin her trainer, and that was that. I relegated myself to the other side of the gym where, for the better part of an hour, I tried to do exercises that made it easy for me to see Scarlett in the mirror. Crunches, curl-ups, jumping jacks—there was no rhyme or reason to my workout. I was breaking a sweat, sure, but I was also completely unsure of how many reps I’d done of what exercises, and by the end of it, I’d accidentally overdone it with the leg workouts. When Scarlett saw me limping into the break room the next day, she laughed.
“Pulled a muscle, old man?”
“Ha ha, yes. Now move so I can get an ice pack for my ass.”
She tossed her head back and laughed, and I stood there looking at her like I was under a siren’s spell.
I’d like to note that I’ve been working in law for a decade, and I’ve never—not a single time—developed a crush on a coworker. In fact, I’ve never even come close. I’m usually so focused on the task at hand that I’m more liable to forget the name, face, employment status, etc. of the person I’m dealing with than to develop a real human connection with them. When I first started working with Lucy, I’d call her “Hey lady out there” until one day she got so fed up she threw her rolled up newspaper at my head and told me I’d “better get some manners” and I’d “better get them real quick.”
So to have this reaction to a coworker, a junior associate, an Elwood no less…
It’s laughably bad.
The same day I needed the ice pack, Scarlett had a care package delivered to my desk around lunchtime. Inside of your aunt’s chunky wicker basket from the ’60s was a jumbo-sized bottle of Aspirin, a pill organizer labeled with each day of the week, a pair of reading glasses, a crossword puzzle book, and some caramel candies. A corresponding note said, “Take it easy, old timer!” which just…goddammit it made me smile, okay?
I ended up giving the basket to Lucy. She absolutely loved it.
Well…she loved it once I convinced her I was only giving it to her out of the goodness of my heart and no she didn’t have to work late and no she didn’t have to come in on Saturday and just take it already!
My one real saving grace in all of this—other than my surly attitude perpetually turning Scarlett away from me at every instance—is the fact that Scarlett is spoken for. Scarlett Elwood is not single, and I’d do well to remember that when I’m jerking off like a horny teenager in my shower every morning thinking about her.
I need a fucking hobby.
Chapter Eleven
Scarlett
“Moira, it’s just a pretend pumpkin! Leave it alone!”
Moira doesn’t listen before she swipes my little festive pumpkin from Target’s dollar bin right off my TV stand. It’s the third Halloween decoration she’s tried to sabotage. The small hanging ghosts I attempted to put up over the weekend were so personally offensive to her she had them ripped out of the ceiling in a matter of minutes. The black papier-mâché bats? Reduced to dust.
Maybe Halloween just isn’t her thing. Maybe in another life she was one of those moms who didn’t let her kids read Harry Potter and thought Halloween was just a way for the devil to access your soul through slightly melted snack-sized Snickers bars.
Or you know what? Maybe Moira is just more of a Christmas girlie. Either way, she will not let me get into the spooky holiday vibes!
I yank the wooden pumpkin off the floor, and she hisses like she wants me to know there’ll be a round two if I’m not careful.
“I’ll put the pumpkin away, okay! You did it! You beat Halloween, you jerk.”
There’s a knock on my door. It’s Jasper, here with our dinner, and not a minute too soon because I was about to rip into my pantry and eat another few fistfuls of pre-dinner chips.
“Come in, come in!” I say in a rush. Then I help him unload the brown paper bags from our favorite Thai restaurant onto the kitchen counter. Yellow curry, yellow curry, yellow curry. I’m just repeating it like that in my head, doing a little happy dance while I get plates and forks.
I haven’t seen Jasper in almost a week because of our hectic work schedules, and it doesn’t even occur to me until he stares at me with two arched brows that I forgot to greet him in a proper girlfriend way.
I laugh. “Sorry! Hi! Thanks for bringing dinner!”
I arch up on my toes and plant a kiss on his cheek. It feels weird, but then again, everything with us feels weird lately. Ever since I started working full-time, we’ve fallen out of sync somehow. He moves left, I move right. He’s free, I’m busy. He wants to go out and meet friends, I want to chill after a long day. I feel like I’m getting on his nerves and vice versa. Worse, we haven’t slept together in weeks.