Page 8 of Mister McStudmuffin

“Yeah. I mean, do I do that? Or is it just the bald head that we have in common?” I rub a hand over my scalp.

“You don’t necessarily squint, but you have intense facial expressions like he does.” She looks up at my face, a smile playing at her lips.

Then I watch as the black of her pupils nearly swallows the brown of her irises.

She’s not immune to me, either. I know it in my gut that she feels this connection between us. Every time I see a verifiable physical reaction from her, it sends a shot of adrenaline straight to my heart. Or to my dick. Six of one and half a dozen of the other.

It’s this crazy thing that keeps me hanging on. Keeps me in the game.

But it always makes me wonder. If she feels this too, why the fuck is she still with Mike?

What does he have that I don’t? Besides her.

Fucking Mike.

* * *

The present…

* * *

chapter

five

Chelsea

It’s a Friday and already quarter to six. Work day is over, yet I find myself still at my desk. JD is still behind his as well. We often stay later on Fridays. Have a drink from the stash JD keeps in a locked cabinet.

My email pings and it’s something from one of my professors. JD and Hayes have been amazing with me and my class schedule. Enabling me to take more than just one evening class at a time. I’m actually on track to finish my MBA in Finance in the next couple of months.

I open the email and squeal!

“Mike coming in early from his trip?” JD asks. He’s annoyed. Why does he sound so annoyed. He’s been in a good mood all day.

“No, I got the highest grade on that huge assignment I’ve been working on. The professor just emailed me to let me know.”

I glance over my shoulder and find JD smiling at me. It’s genuine and wrinkles the corners at his eyes and gah, he is so beautiful.

“Drink to celebrate?” he asks.

“Definitely.”

“Somewhere or just here?”

“Just here.” I rise from my desk, toe off my Chucks and pad over to the leather sofa that sits beneath a wall of windows overlooking the Capitol building. I settle myself on the comfortable cushions, tucking one leg beneath me.

JD steps over and hands me a glass of amber liquid. He’s got his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing the dusting of hair and cords of muscles in his right forearm. They’re in his left too, but that arm has a full sleeve. I’ve never seen all of it, but he’s told me about it before.

The part of the tattoo on his forearm looks like a Terminator arm when they’re in full machine mode. There are still “strips” of skin covering part of it though, making it look eerily realistic. He sits on the sofa and follows my gaze to his arm.

“You said a guy in your hometown did that?”

He nods. “Zane. Kind of his specialty. Doing stuff like this.”

“It’s amazing.”

He extends his arm towards me so I can get a better look and I can’t help but run a fingertip over the images of sinew and metal. “It looks so real.”