Every sweep makes me excited, causing butterflies to explode and my nerves to jitter. I can't focus on what she's saying because I'm getting lost in the deep blue of his stare. The same blue that stopped my heart at seventeen years old is stopping it now.
Sandy turns in my direction quickly, causing me to stiffen nervously. She walks across the room, one hand on her hip, the other perched like a raptor.
Stopping a foot away from me, she tilts her head. “Don't think I won't fire your ass, remember that the next time you come through my doors half an hour late. I liked your résumé and your portfolio, but that doesn't mean I need you. There are a million other people out there that can do what you do. It's simple: you need me, otherwise you wouldn't be here.” Sticking her nose in the air, she brushes past me.
My eyes drop to the floor as she glares at me on her way by, and I'm trying not to make eye contact for fear she'll turn around and snap at me. Her heels click as she walks out the door and disappears down the hall.
The air in the room is stifling hot, and I'm suddenly aware that Lyle is still here. He’s still standing in the same spot, his hands tucked into his pockets. He's staring at me. . . Staring at me like I have something he wants.
Jesus, why is he staring at me like that?
Lyle takes a few slow steps in my direction, stopping at the edge of the desk. He drops to his haunches, picking up the pens on the floor, and putting them back. Keeping one, he rolls it between his fingers, and rests back against edge of the desk.
“So, tell me, why were you actually late today?” Arching a brow, his fingers keep spinning the pen around and around. “And be honest, let's not make this worse with a lie.”
I'm mesmerized, suddenly oblivious of everything around me that isn't him. He's like a hypnotist, and his muscles are the secret words making me go numb. Everything I know is gone, blown away as if it never existed.
My eyes lick his torso, tracing hard ridges and sharp angles. He crosses his legs with thick thighs, and his package bulges behind the tension of his pants.
“Well?” he asks, moving the pen around as he talks.
My eyes jump back to his. He smiles, letting that second of silence linger as if he's reading my mind. Did he see me looking?
Tapping the pen against his palm, he dips his chin into his chest. “This is where you give me some sort of story, something at least mildly believable.”
Biting on my bottom lip, I fiddle with the strap on my purse. Come on brain! Get it together!
Lyle's brows raise to his hair line as he tilts his ear in my direction. I'm stuck, unsure if the truth is more believable than a lie.
I can't lie, I won't. I'll tell him the truth, and he'll either believe me or he won't.
It's a risk I need to take. I'm already on their shit list for being late, I don't want to cement myself there longer because I lie about why.
Believing me, well, that's up to him.
“Actually, it was something pretty serious. I was on my way here when I came upon a kid who was lost. The poor thing was only seven, balling his eyes out on the sidewalk. So, I did what I thought I should do, I helped him. And because of that, I ended up late my first day.” Clapping my hands together, I smile through thin lips. “I'm really sorry for being late, but to be honest, if I had to do it again, I would.”
Splaying my arms open, I stand still. I'm not lying, I'm not making up some elaborate excuse to get a free pass. I give him exactly what he wants, the truth.
“Really?” he asks, so I shake my head with a closed smile on my lips. “Huh, well. . .” He opens his eyes wide, looking back over his shoulder. “Let me get you familiar with our systems. At least let's get you doing some work to keep Sandy off your back for a bit.”
Lyle walks around to the other side of the desk, drops the pen into the cup, then lifts his eyes up to mine. I just smile awkwardly, moving my purse to the other shoulder.
He flicks his eyes down, then back up. It takes a second to register that he wants me to come over there.
“Oh, yes, of course,” I say, taking quick steps to his side.
He pulls out the chair, and fans out his arm. “Please,” he says with a tender smile.
Sitting my purse on the floor, I take the seat, and he helps push me in. Lyle grabs the mouse with his huge hand, clicking it to turn on the computer screen. He leans over, his shoulder almost brushing mine.
My heart skips inside my chest, lurching into my throat. I can smell his cologne, and it takes me back to the night of the party when we were seventeen. A flutter skirts through my belly, coalescing into a heat between my legs.
Shifting in my seat, the side of my arm brushes against his shirt. I can almost feel how strong his muscles are beneath his blue button-up. Thick, firm, hard as stone.
I thought he was a man back when we were in school, how fucking wrong was I?
Lyle is definitely a man now. No doubt about it.
With his dirty blond hair tousled on top, and his jaw clean shaven, that little dimple in the corner of his left cheek really stands out. He stands up briefly as he waits for
