“I know how to do my job, thank you very much,” I snap, scowling back at him.
His brows shoot up. “Hey, I wasn’t doubting your abilities,” he clarifies, his expression heartbreakingly earnest. “Sometimes it just helps to get another set of eyes on something, go at it with a different approach.”
I pin him with an icy glare, chewing on the inside of my cheek. It’s hard to argue with someone who’s always so damn pragmatic. Andnice.
Why the fuck is he always so nice?
“Fine,” I huff after a long moment, grabbing for my mouse and dragging the contact card from my folder to our shared drive. “Just dropped it in the drive, have at it. Name’s Isaac Matthews.”
Matty snorts a laugh, my eyes pinging up to meet his.
“What’s so funny?” I ask suspiciously.
“Nothing, that just has to be a mistake,” he chuckles, shaking his head.at
I narrow my eyes on him. “Why, friend of yours?”
He grins smugly. “You could say that.”
I slap a palm against my desk, rattling the objects on the surface. “See, this is exactly why a hunter shouldn’t be working on this taskforce,” I snarl. “It’s a conflict of–”
“It’sme,” Matty cuts in, sitting up straighter and stabbing a finger into his chest. “I’mIsaac Matthews.”
I flinch back, wrinkling my nose in confusion.
“Everyone went by last names in The Guild, but my uncle was already Matthews, so mine got shortened to Matty,” he explains, carding his fingers through his chestnut hair. “I kinda got used to it, and that’s what Cam’s always called me, so…” he trails off with a shrug.
My lashes flutter as I blink at him.
His uncle?
Were they close?
Did he survive?
I shake my head to dispel all those swirling questions, exhaling a stilted breath. Deep down, I don’t want to know– because the more I know about Matty, the more I’ll be forced to see him as a person rather than just a hunter. If that happens, it’ll be hard to keep on hating him. If I stop hating him, I might startlikinghim, and then what kind of person would I be? What kind of mate would I be to Dylan?
“Oh,” I reply quietly, averting my gaze. “Well, if that’s a mistake, then yes, I finished my half of the contact list.”
A tense silence descends upon us as I refocus on my computer screen, deciding to just tackle my task list from the top down.
“Do you wanna send over your results then, so I can compile them with mine?” Matty asks.
My eyes flicker up to meet his once more, and while my first instinct is to snap that I don’t need any help, I hesitate.
Thisiswork-related, so I suppose I can make an exception to refusing favors from him, just this once.
“Sure,” I sigh, navigating to the spreadsheet I created last week and dragging the file to our shared drive. “You should have access now.”
“Got it,” he confirms with a click of his mouse.
While Matty seemingly gets right to work, I’m suddenly having trouble focusing. I spent all weekend trying to forget about Friday night, but sitting here across from Matty, it’s impossible not to remember. I glance up at him again, nose twitching as his signature sandalwood and spice scent registers.
He catches me looking, gaze lifting to mine. “What?” he asks, the corner of his mouth tipping up in a little smirk.
“Nothing,” I reply quickly, eyes returning to my computer screen. “You just don’t look like an Isaac, that’s all.”
Ididn’t initially peg Matty as the stalker type, but I’m forced to re-evaluate that assessment when he walks in on me in the shower again. It’s well after midnight, the rest of the squad complex already fast asleep. Since I have trouble sleeping these days, I tend to shower at odd hours– and it’s a little too coincidental that he just so happens to have the same idea.
