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I pass crowds of people and separate offices on my way there. To dodge the curious stares often filled with pity, I take the stairs in favor of the elevator. Cardio isn’t my favorite morning routine, so my ass had better thank me for it later.
“Nuh-uh, nope. You turn around before I drag you outside and shove you in the trunk of my car, and we take a paid vacation until tomorrow,” Melanie, my assistant, declares when I shuffle into the office, resembling a frazzled mess.
I drop my keys in my bag. “I’m not running from my problems.”
“Maybe you should. Running from your problems is better than committing murder.”
I groan. “Oh my God, I’m not running away or killing anyone today.”
She raises a brow. “Though, tomorrow, it’s a possibility?”
I signal to her computer with my coffee while passing her desk on the way to my office. “Work on a new résumé. I’m firing you.”
She flips her shiny blonde hair over her shoulder. “Don’t dial my number when the new one is lame and won’t help you bury a body.” A smile dances on her lips when I glance at her.
“I appreciate your loyalty, Melanie. You’ve earned yourself another week of employment.”
“And I appreciate yours for not firing me after the six hundredth threat.” She swivels her chair and looks at me. “Are you taking calls today?”
I shrug—an attempt to fake indifference. “Yes. I doubt anyone will call.”
“More reason for us to haul ass out of here.”
I sigh. “I’ll be in my office if you need me.”
But please don’t.
I have a bag of mini Snickers, plenty of coffee, and a flask if worse comes to worst to survive this day.
She salutes me. “Sounds good, boss. I’ll be on Pornhub, so please don’t need me.”
I can’t stop myself from cracking a smile while shaking my head. “One of these days, I’m going to fire you.”
“And that will be the worst day of your life.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I mutter before disappearing into the solitude of my office.
I shut the door, collapse in the uncomfortable chair behind my desk, and vacantly stare at the stack of papers in need of editing. This office is what I’ve wanted for years, what I’ve worked my ass off for. I’m the editor in chief ofThe Blue Beech Register. The number of scandalous stories in our small town is that ofSesame Street, but it’s given me a job, experience on my résumé, and the opportunity to move up in the field.
* * *
“What the fuck, Chloe?”
I hear the very familiar and very pissed off voice in the reception area outside my office, and my back stiffens in my chair. His tone is the opposite of what it was this morning when he was hanging out, half-naked, on his porch.
I toss the pen in my hand on my desk, preparing myself for the incoming shitshow when my office door flies open.
I need that flask, stat.
I straighten myself, squaring up my shoulders, and scowl at the man taking residence in the doorway. “Excuse you. Who do you think you are, barging into my office?”
Melanie is definitely getting fired.
The next task on my to-do list is hiring a secretary who hates my neighbor and won’t mind taking a criminal charge for kicking him in the nuts.
The walls vibrate when Kyle slams the door shut as if he owned the place, and he stalks the few steps until he’s directly in front of my desk. He spreads his feet and crosses his arms across his broad chest. “Your neighbor. Your proclaimed enemy. The man whose dick you’ve wanted to ride since sophomore year.”
Oh, this motherfucker.
