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“Just saying, maybe you should ask.”
“Maybe you should start doing your job. The bar is really full.”
“Hmmm, maybe. Well, is he single then?”
“Oh my god! Enough.”
“Fine. You win. Shots?”
“No, I have to work tomorrow.”
“Just one. Please?”
“No.”
“One?”
Ugh! “Fine,onlyone.”
I hate Mindy. I hate Mindy. I hate Mindy.
“Morning! Glad to see you made it to day three,” Amy says as I walk into the office. “You already beat out half the contestants before you—wow, are you okay?”
Ugh. Far from it. One shot, my ass. My stomach is sketchy, and I’m running on four hours of sleep. “Yeah, just tired. Is there a prize at the end of this? Do I get a cookie if I make it to day four?”
Amy chuckles into her coffee. “No. Just a paycheck and bragging rights. Have a good day. He just got in. Seems to be in a decent mood.”
“Thanks.” I wave and trek down the hallway to his office, taking a slow sip of my triple-shot iced coffee I expect to bring me back to life. I should have known better. One shot doesn’t mean just one when it comes to Mindy. That one shot opens the floodgates to a second and third; the next thing you know, the bar top has become a dance floor. I really need to grow up.
I reach my desk as Theo’s office door opens. Shifting my purse strap onto my shoulder, I open my mouth to greet him when I trip. “Morning—shit.” I stumble over my feet, tossing my iced coffee forward. My eyes widen as I track its flight, stopping once it smacks into Theo’s chest, exploding all over his fancy suit.
“Oh my God. . .” Holy shit that didnotjust happen. “I’msosorry.” Theo remains motionless, his arms raised. “I don’t know what just happened. I was walking then—” I shut up because his look of shock and surprise morphs into murder. “Here, let me help. . .” I brush off the ice cubes stuck to his suit coat. “It’s not that bad.” It’ssobad. Why did he have to wear a white shirt today? “Just a little. . .” I wipe my palms up and down his chest like that’s going to make it go away. “Honestly, it doesn’t look that—”
His hands thrust out, latching around my wrists. “Enough,” he snaps.
“I’m—okay.” He drops my wrists, and I step back. Spinning on his heel, he storms into his office, throws open another door and enters a private bathroom. Without closing it, he tears off his suit coat and unbuttons his shirt. “I can try—”
“Stop talking,” he bites out.
“Yep.”
He removes his shirt, and I almost choke on my tongue. Jesus almighty. It should be illegal to look like that. Tan, muscles for days, and that happy trail. . .meow.I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Maybe your wife can get the stain out?” I squeeze my eyes shut, praying that question didn’t really come out of my mouth. I must still be drunk.Fucking Mindy.I open them as Theo reappears in a new shirt, shoving his coffee-drenched clothes into my chest.
“No wife.” He leans in, his breath fanning my cheek, then pulls back, making his way to his desk.
“I didn’t mean to pry. I just wanted to make sure someone—”
“Miss Evans, that someone is you. Read the job title.”
My brows rise into my hairline. “To be your wife?” Now he’s confusing me.
His hands wipe down his face. “No. To run my errands. And while you’re dropping off my dry cleaning, pick up my other suits.” He picks up his phone and dials a number.
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I got my shirt dirty too—”
“It doesn’t. If you’re done ruining my day, I’d like my coffee and morning agenda—Phil, good morning, Theo Monroe. . .”
I turn on my heel, dismissed. “Geez, it was an accident,” I grumble under my breath.
