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“It’s worth exploring, though. And I want to get this ironed out before we send the elementary V2 deck to Tim’s office tomorrow. We’ll deal with the HR stuff next week, it’s less important.” He pauses. “We’re going to be tied up in that code meeting all afternoon, so tonight’s gonna be a late one. Let’s see if Annie can stay back to go over her thoughts behind points two and three, and how we could market those features with our current branding. I’m not comfortable moving forward without more information.”
“Agreed.” Then, I press my lips together. “But we can’t stay late—we have Legs to think about.”
“Already taken care of. Mindy’s taking Legs along to her dress fitting this evening so she can try on her flower girl dress. That should keep Legs entertained for a few hours. Mindy’s hoping to rack up some brownie points with our girl, anyway.” Luke chuckles.
“She’ll come around,” I say. “And that sounds perfect. I’ll check if Annie can hang back with us until 8pm or so.”
“You.”
“Pardon?”
“Hang back withyou. Singular. I have to pick up the tuxes. I’ll meet Mindy and Legs at Lana’s place after and we’ll stay until you get home. But don’t feel like you need to rush back.” Luke winks.
Annie and I, alone in the office together? We haven’t beenalonealone since…
Well, you know.
Great. Now I’m thinking about her wild auburn bedhead.
I scramble for something to say, some way to get out of this. “No, you’re the groom. I’ll pick up the tu—-”
“No, you won’t.” Luke smiles like he won the Georgia Lottery Jackpot. “I’m going, you’re staying at work. Just try not to sleep with her again okay?”
My brother looks way too pleased with himself.
This was all a set-up. And I walked right into it.
“Remind me again why I gave you a job?” I glare at him and his grin widens.
“Because underneath all that steel and muscle, you’re a big squidgy old softie.”
I sigh tiredly, roll my eyes. But I can’t ignore the fact that he makes a good point. And I promised myself that this situation wouldn’t affect work. “Funny as youthinkyou are, that joke is very stale. But you are right in that we need to follow up with Annie on some of this, so I’ll ask if she can stay. I’ll be home at 8:30pm sharp, and I expect you to have given Legs a nutritious dinner, checked her homework, made sure she’s taken her vitamins and brushed her teeth, and read her an educational story.”
“You must be a barrel of laughs as a babysitter.”
“I’m the best.”
Luke doesn’t need to know that, last night, I let Legs paint my toenails pink while we ate raw cookie dough (the kind safe for consumption. Don’t worry, I checked), and watchedFrozen IIfor the third time this week.
“Oh, you’ll also want to feed Harry,” I add as I rifle through my papers. “He likes the fresh salmon from the can.”
Safe and happy in the knowledge that Luke literally throws up at the smell of fish, I make my escape from the boardroom.
But my amusement is short-lived as there’s nowhere to escapeto. These days, the woman occupying my thoughts in the most bothersome way also occupies my office.
If I’m being honest, though, I don’t actually mind letting her share my space.
Not that much, anyway.
Because yes, it’s freaking annoying that my office now contains a fluffy pink chair pillow, a desk calendar full of quotes fromThe Office, and a gold pot of pencils topped with dinosaur-shaped erasers. Not to mention the little brightly-colored woman who owns all the clutter.
But I’ve come to almost… look forward to her tripping in late every morning, cheerful and smiling and telling some ridiculous story about how she missed the bus because she saw a praying mantis and had to take a picture. Or because she walked the long way and got lost.
She always arrives with a book tucked under her arm and a pink paper bag from Sugarland. This week, she’s tried the almond croissant, the cinnamon bun, the banana nut muffin and, today, the apple fritter.
I’ve worked in this building for years, and she’s already tried more of Sugarland’s menu than I have.
I can’t help but smirk as I make my way back into my office. Annie’s apple fritter currently sits atop its paper bag on the carpet next to her. She’s forgone her desk chair in favor of sitting on the floor. This is how she prefers to work—on the ground, legs at a ninety-degree angle, stack of paperwork resting between her thighs.
