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“Pardon?”
“I bet you’ve had your whole life planned out from day one. Knew what you wanted to do, who you wanted to be. Never let anyone hold you back.”
She’s so right, and so wrong, all at once.
I raise a brow. “What’s the problem with knowing what you want?”
“Nothing. But spontaneity can be good, too.”
“You couldspontaneouslydecide to be on time once in a while.”
She peers at me with comically wide eyes. “Did Mr. Donovan just make a joke?”
“I was in no way joking. You are chronically late for everything.”
“And you are chronically running your life on military time.” She pulls a face at me and gives me a salute that can’t be related to any military on planet Earth.
She wants spontaneity? Luke says I need to lighten up?
Fine. Let’s try it their way.
Oh a whim, I grab a pen and jot down my number. Hand it to her.
“What’s this?”
“I’m spontaneously giving you my number.” I almost smirk as she stares at the post-it in my outstretched hand. “I have meetings lined up all afternoon, but let’s meet back here at 5:15 to begin our evening stint. You can text me if—when—you’re going to be late.”
She snatches the post-it, quick as a flash, then grabs one of her ridiculous dinosaur pencils—a stegosaurus. “You take my number instead,” she says, scribbling away. “That way, you can text me when your newly-spontaneous self is the one running late for our evening rendezvous.”
This woman, I tell you.
I take the post-it from her with an eyebrow raised. “You know I can’t stand lateness.”
“Then don’t be late, Liam.”
Her laughing eyes meets mine and the sound of my name on her lips prompts a warm twinge in my stomach.
“Don’t be late either… Annie.”
13
ANNIE
I slip off my headphones, pausing the most excellent Broadway Showtunes soundtrack that accompanied my afternoon of data crunching. I lean back in my chair with a smile and stretch.
It’s been a good day. Things are looking up.
Finally.
It’s been three and a half days of sharing an office (nota desk) with Liam Donovan, and we might actually be… getting along. Hard as that may be to believe given the first twelve hours we spent together, and the man’s overall grump factor for most of those hours.
But I think he’s finally relaxing a touch around me. And yes, Liam’s version of relaxed looks very different from most people’s, but he seems to be coming to terms with the fact that I work here. And (hopefully) that I’m not insanely in love with him or something.
I mean, he even gave me his cell number earlier. Which I proceeded to give back before handing him my number instead. Because an actual stalker would never do that, would they?
One of my smarter moments, I like to think.
Plus, all initial awkwardness with my new boss aside, I am totally hooked on the job.
