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“Did he try to kiss you when you got to the office this morning?” Sarah asks, and I shake my head.
“He didn’t try to kiss me. He didn’t try to do anything.”
“Is that why you’re upset?” Sarah asks.
“Of course not,” I snap. “Why would I be upset at that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe you thought this was something serious and he’d give you a kiss.”
“No way.” I roll my eyes. “This is not anything serious. We hooked up only because I was drunk that night. If I would’ve known it was him when I started dancing with him, I never would’ve danced with him in the first place,” I say, huffing. “Anyway,” I look at my watch, “I got to get back.”
“You haven’t even finished eating yet,” Isabel says, and I shake my head.
“Look, here’s my credit card. Give it to me later.” I get up before either one of them can say anything and head out of the restaurant. I’m feeling annoyed, and I don’t know if I’m annoyed at them, myself, or at Colton.
It’s not that I like Colton or I want anything from him, but I am slightly put off by the way he’d spoken to me and treated me in the office. He’d looked handsome and while I didn’t want to kiss him, I thought he would have at least attempted to get a kiss, and him asking me to give him a blow job wasn’t the same thing. I was starting to feel like I had just been a plaything for him and that made me feel slightly annoyed. Not that I thought we had anything more than that. I didn’t want anything more than that. He was Colton Hart, my archnemesis, and even though he was best friends with my brother, and even though one time I thought he was a good guy, that had all faded when he’d fired me.
I sigh as I make my way back to the office. I am surprised he hasn’t even checked in on me, but I am not going to think about that. I make my way past the receptionist, who is glaring at me, and head to the elevator. I get out on the tenth floor and walk toward my office.
“There you are.” Colton’s voice stops me in my tracks, and I turn around.
“Yes?” I say, glancing at him. He has half a sandwich in his hand, and I wonder if he has been working here during his lunch. “I just went out to get something to eat with the girls,” I say quickly. “I’m going through the files as quickly as possible.”
“I am sure you are,” he says, nodding. He looks me up and down. “I went into the office to look for you earlier.”
“Yeah, I was at lunch,” I say. “Is there something I can help you with? I don’t have all the information yet. I’m not that fast.”
“I know,” he says. “I was bringing you an iPad.” He stares at me for a couple of seconds and nods. “Let’s go to the office and chat.”
“Okay,” I say, my heart racing. I can feel him staring at me as we make our way to the office. He closes the door behind me, and my stomach flips. This is it, I think to myself. He’s going to kiss me. He’s going to hike my skirt up and...
“So I noticed you were doodling on your notepad,” he says as if it was nothing, and I blink. Most people never notice the fact that I love to draw little images of everything on my mind to pass the time.
“What?”
“You were doodling, drawing something.”
“Oh yeah,” I say. “As I was reading through the files, I noticed that a lot of the communities had similar names, so I was just doodling little logos that made me think of the names.” This is it. I think to myself. He’s going to tell me I’m wasting his time and his company’s time, and he’s going to fire me. I hold my breath, waiting for the inevitable.
“They’re cool,” he says emphatically, nodding toward the pad. “I didn’t realize you were such a good artist.” My heart soars at the compliment. Any time anyone mentions my artwork, I feel a strong sense of pride.
“Oh,” I say in surprise. “Thanks. I am not really an artist, but I like to draw every now and then.”
“You’re good,” he continues, and I love him for the fact that he appreciates my art. “In fact, why don’t you do some graphics on the iPad? I’ve put Procreate on there for you, or I should say the IT department did.”
“Procreate,” I say, my eyes widening. “The graphic design program?”
“Yeah,” he smiles, a genuine and warm expression on his face. He’s being professional, and I can tell that he’s not doing this as a joke or to get into my pants. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll get an idea for a logo for one of our communities.”
“But you want me to?”
“You can do more than one thing at a time, right?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.
I nod slowly. “Yeah.”
“Oh, I also have something for you,” he says. I stare at him in surprise.
“Not balloons?” I tease him, and he shakes his head.
