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The air is saturated with the scent of toner, while a chaotic collection of cartridge tubes decorate the floor. “I requested copies, not a wrestling match with the copier, Penelope.”
“This machine is the devil, and you’re no better for sending me on a wild goose chase this morning.” She moves to poke my chest, but jerks her hand back when she sees the ink marring her skin. “You knew the break room was behind the white door, not the brown one.”
I kick the leaky cartridges out of the way, crowding her space until she’s backed against the copier, with no choice but to tilt her chin up. “Maybe.”
“Do you know how many doors are painted brown in that room, Logan?”
“I assume a lot.” I place my hands on either side of her, testing how far she’ll let me push.
Fuck, she smells so damn good. Different than before, but delicious, nonetheless. The scent wafts from her, warmed by her body, and reminds me of the baked honeysuckles Mrs. Haldé used to make us for helping her around her house in Augustine.
My eyes fall to the hollow point of her neck, traveling down to her collarbones. I want to bury my face beneath her ear and breathe in the aroma until I’m intoxicated.
“Yes, a lot of them,” she says, yanking me from my fantasy. “And I bet you knew Gerald would talk my ear off about his mother’s hemorrhoid surgery, too, didn’t you?”
My laughter startles her into snapping her mouth shut. “Now, that, I couldn’t have predicted.”
“Laugh it up, buddy.” I don’t miss the barest hint of a smile threatening the corner of her lips. “I told you I’d be terrible at this.”
I swallow tightly as a set of deep brown eyes sear a hole through my soul, so familiar, I physically ache. Red, heart-shaped lips, just as plump as they’ve always been, part slightly, and if I wasn’t sure she’d slap me for it, I’d dive in for a taste.
The freckles sprinkled across her nose and cheeks are more abundant now, and I wonder if while I’m studying the face of the woman she’s become, she sees how long I’ve hurt for the loss of her. My friend. My lover. My future.
But she doesn’t trust me, and for as much as I yearn for her, I’m not sure I can trust her, either.
I slide one hand through my hair to ground myself and take a healthy step away. “We have a meeting with the owner of Adventure Park soon.”
She perks up, practically bouncing when her spine goes straight. “You’re taking me to a meeting?”
“Yes, that’s what I said.”
“Okay, wow. Cool, cool, cool. No pressure, Pen. We can do this. We’re a fierce, meeting conquering machine.”
I lean my ass against the edge of my desk, listening to her goofy rambles. “When you and your other personalities decide you’re ready, let me know.”
Her shoulders roll back and determination sets her jaw tight. “I’m all good. Pinky swear.”
She juts her little finger out at me, knocking the dust off an old memory of the two of us in a field, talking after a recent argument with my father.
Before our first kiss.
Before I fell madly, unbearably in love with her.
A stinging sensation rises beneath my scars, souring my mood significantly when I brush past her. “We’re not kids anymore, Pen.”
I don’t wait to see the disappointment on her face before grabbing my portfolio and walking toward the door.
“Let’s get you washed up. I don’t like to be late.” I gesture at her discarded high heels and say, “Shoes.”
She gawks at my strict command before slipping them back on. “Who are you?”
Funny, I thought she didn’t want to talk about the past. But then again, all I can see is that freckle-faced girl who wore a smile that rivaled the sun, and suddenly, I can’t hold her gaze.
Twisting the handle, I open the door to the hall. “After you.”
CHAPTER NINE
Logan
