“Meadow…”
“Yeah?” I all but whisper.
He steps toward me, careful not to get too close. But it’s close enough for his scent and warmth to wrap around me like a weighted blanket.
“You’re not a… human distraction,” he says tenderly. “Or whatever the hell you called yourself. I hate that you even said that. I wouldneverthink that about you.”
It’s evident by the look on his face that he’s full of remorse. That he genuinely feels like shit for making me feel that way.
“I know,” I murmur, easing his worry. “I’m just tired. Like I said, it’s been a long day.”
A beat of silence passes, neither of us speaking. My pulse hammers in my ears. A blaring siren wails from down the street, shattering the quiet space between us.
Owen zips up his coat and clears his throat. “Let me know what you decide, yeah? No pressure either way.”
I manage a nod, not trusting my voice to cooperate.
He gives me a casual grin before turning to walk down the street, hands buried deep in his pockets. I watch him go until there’s nothing in my line of sight but flickering street lights.
Once again, I’m the one left standing here, foolishly wanting more.
TWO
Owen
What the hell is going on in there?
I lean back in my chair, squinting through the frosted glass of Stacy's office—Meadow’s nightmare of a manager. Even though I can’t make out much more than blurred shapes, Stacy’s arms are slicing through the air like a pissed-off orchestra conductor. And Meadow’s unmoving silhouette tells me everything I need to know.
She’s getting ripped apart by her boss right now, probably for something as little as a misplaced comma.
Our office is an open-concept floor plan, with sales on one side and creative on the other. From my desk, I can see right into that little glass box of hell where Meadow’s currently trapped.
Stacy is, hands down, the biggest asshole in the company. I’ve lost count of how many employees have quit because of her. I can’t believe she’s still in a leadership role.
With how many people we’ve lost, it’s honestly a miracle Stacy hasn’t been fired yet. She’s lucky that Meadow has put up with her shit for all these years.
You wouldn't think that Meadow is Stacy’s star employee by the way she treats her, but she is. If Stacy doesn't stop nitpicking every little thing, she’s going to lose Meadow. It’s just a matter of time.
Hell, I’m about to walk in there and tell Stacy exactly how fucked she’ll be when Meadow finally snaps.
And if Meadow quits because her boss is such a pain in the ass—if I don’t get to see her every day—I’ll go to HR and raise hell myself. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure that Stacy never walks into this high-rise again.
I impatiently tap my fingers against my wooden desk as my blood boils. I feel this protectiveness over Meadow that I can’t explain. She doesn’t deserve this shit.
And it doesn’t help that I completely embarrassed her last week.
It’s been exactly one week since we had drinks at the bar, and I still can’t get the look on her face out of my head. Her devastated expression when I made her feel like a fucking “human distraction.” If she only knew how far from the truth that is.
It’s actually comical because she’s the opposite of that. If anything, she’s the one distraction that I gladly welcome. The one I can’t stop fucking staring at. If she only knew how often she distracts me—every damn day—simply by existing in the same space as me.
For example, she walked in this morning wearing a fitted pencil skirt that will forever be burned into my brain.God, that skirt, paired with a loose blouse that dips just enough to show the line of her cleavage.
It’s a fucking problem how good she looks today. My own personal torture.
Meadow has no idea how sexy she is.
She’s oblivious to how every straight man in this office damn near breaks their neck when she passes by. Meadow and her wild brunette hair, dark, seductive eyes, perfect little button nose, and plump lips that always looked freshly kissed. It’s enough to kill a man.
