Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 102781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
“Oh shit. What does he do?”
“He’s the regional creative director for the company we merged with.”
“Wait a minute. Isn’t that your title?”
“Yep. And there’s only room for one of us.”
A waiter who wasn’t even ours walked by. Madison put out her hand and grabbed him. “We need another vodka seltzer and glass of merlot. Immediately.”
***
The next morning, I made a stop on the way to the office. As much as I hated what was happening with my job, apparently, I was going to have to work with Bennett for the next few months. And…let’s face it, I’d been wrong. I’d damaged his car and left a parking ticket instead of a note. If someone had done that to me... Well, I doubted I would be even as polite as he’d been throughout the day. He’d waited until we were alone to call me out on my shit, when he could’ve made me look bad in front of my new boss.
His car was illegally parked in the same spot as yesterday when I arrived. Last night, when I’d replayed the day in my head, I thought perhaps his car had been skipped over by accident because the meter maid lost track and thought she’d ticketed it already since it looked identical to mine from the outside. But if that were the case, and he’d already gotten away with it once, why would he park there again today and risk getting another ticket?
There were only a few logical answers. One, he was rich and arrogant. Two, he was an idiot. Or three, he knew he wouldn’t be getting a parking ticket.
Bennett’s office door was closed, but I noticed from the bottom that his light was on. I lifted my hand to knock, but hesitated. It would’ve been easier if he weren’t so damn good looking.
Grow a pair, Annalise.
I straightened my spine and stood tall before knocking loudly on the door. After a minute, relief started to wash over me as I decided Bennett wasn’t in there. He must have left his light on. I was just about to turn away when, without warning, the door whipped open.
I jumped in surprise and clutched my chest. “You scared the shit out of me.”
Bennett removed one earbud from his ear. “Did you just say I scared you?”
“Yes. I wasn’t expecting you to open the door.”
He pulled the other earbud out and let them dangle around his neck. His brow furrowed. “You knocked on my office door but weren’t expecting me to open it?”
“Your door was shut, and it was quiet. I didn’t think you were in there.”
Bennett held up his iPhone “I just got back from my run. Had my earbuds in.”
Music blared from them, and I recognized the song.
“‘Enter Sandman?’ Really?” My voice hinted at my amusement.
“What’s wrong with Metallica?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all. You just don’t look like someone who listens to Metallica.”
He squinted. “And exactly what do I look like I listen to?”
I gave him the onceover. He wasn’t dressed in the expensive suit and wingtips he’d had on yesterday. Yet even wearing casual clothes—a body-hugging black Under Armour T-shirt and low-hanging sweats—there was something about him that reeked of refinement.
Although the way that vein bulged from his bicep was more fine than refinement at the moment. Bennett was older than me, I’d guess—early thirties, perhaps—but his body was firm and muscular, and I imagined he looked even more incredible without that shirt on.
Blinking myself back from a semi-daze, I remembered he’d asked me a question. “Classical. I would have taken you for more of a classical music person than Metallica.”
“That’s kind of stereotyping, isn’t it? In that case, what should I assume about you? You’re blond and beautiful.”
“I’m not stupid.”
He folded his arms over his chest and cocked one brow. “You did get your head stuck to the windshield of my car.”
He had a point. And I was most definitely not starting off on the right foot by arguing with him again this morning. Getting myself back on track, I held up the long, slim package I’d picked up on my way to the office.
“That reminds me, I wanted to apologize for yesterday.”
Bennett seemed to assess me for a minute. Then he took the wiper blade from my hand. “How the hell did you get your hair stuck to my car, anyway?”
I felt my face heat. “Let me start off by saying cars aren’t my thing. I don’t like to drive them, and have crap luck with them working properly. At the old office, I could walk to work. Now I have to drive every day. Anyway, I got a parking ticket yesterday morning while I was unpacking boxes from my car. We happen to have the same make, model, and color Audi. Yours was parked illegally, too, but you hadn’t gotten a ticket. So I tried to put mine under your windshield wiper, hoping you would pay it. Only a gust of wind came, and my hair somehow got tangled when I lifted the wiper. When I tried to unravel it, I made it worse. I really didn’t mean to vandalize your car.”