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A loud laugh sounds from outside the door and I tense. Callie. She’s winning over this office with her annoyingly plucky ways and her Disney princess smile. One thousand watts of shiny white teeth under plump pink lips.
Miles starts laughing.
“Not you too.”
“Are you going to forbid our employees from having fun next?” He’s way too pleased.
“No, but she’s a bit much don’t you think?”
His brow wrinkles in confusion. “What do you mean? She’s perfectly fine.”
“She is not fine,” I hiss. She’s far from fine. Fine is lukewarm. Callie is fire, sunshine, impossible curves, snappy retorts. Annoying as hell and addicting as chocolate. I hate it.
Miles is watching me with a faint smirk on his face. “What’s wrong, Jonah? Don’t like your routine being disrupted?”
“Did you know she went out and got fucking cupcakes for the staff? Apparently it was Tabitha’s birthday and she wanted her to feel welcome since she started last month.” I slash a hand through the air. “Welcome. Callie has worked here for one week, and she’s welcoming people. It’s ridiculous. And cupcakes? Honestly. Everyone is very distracted. I can practically feel the lack of work getting done.”
“I thought you called her Ms. Thompson. When did she become Callie?” Miles asks.
“That’s what you’re taking away from this?”
He grins. “Seems relevant.”
“Being in a relationship has made you soft.” I snort. His smile grows. “Get out of my office.”
He stands, raising his hands in the air. “George seems to think Ms. Thompson could do more.”
“She’s not here to do more.”
“What’s she here for then?”
“Whatever I damn well please.” Well, that sounded dirty.
Miles guffaws.
“Not like that and you know it.”
“Lighten up, you old bastard. Maybe you like cupcakes after all.”
He saunters out, making small talk with Callie, who laughs again, a bright tinkling sound. My chest squeezes. She’s never laughed around me. What the hell? I don’t want to make her laugh. I want her to cry. I want to use her as a tool for my revenge against Dylan. I want her to regret ever printing my name in her paper.
I rise from the desk and arrive at her station in just a few long strides.
“Jonah,” she says, surprised. “I mean, Mr. Crown. How can I help you?”
Miles is looking at me like I’m a crazy person, and I realize that most of the office is staring at us. They all have cupcakes on their desks or in their hands.
“Would you like a cupcake?” Callie plucks one from the box on her desk and offers it to me. It’s yellow cake with blue frosting. When was the last time I had dessert? Christine’s birthday maybe. Dessert is superfluous, but suddenly it sounds amazing.
“No, thanks.” My voice comes out gravelly and awkward. I hate that Miles is looking at me with something like pity, that this woman has won over the entire office in less than a week.
“Okay.” She puts the cupcake down and looks back at me expectantly. It’s her and them against me. I’m the villain of this story. A fact I’ve always been comfortable with, until this very moment.
“You have frosting on your face,” I say.
“Oh.” Her tongue darts out to lick the pink sugar away and my breaths seize in my chest. I’m morally deficient, this I know. But in this moment, I so badly want to be a piece of pink frosting.
“I’ll find you later,” I mutter, before locking myself in my office.
