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She frowns. “It’s like a key for all your texts. I can put the subject and author and where to find them on your shelf.” She gestures with that long, beautiful arm.
I stand up quickly. “I need to go make a phone call.”
The widening of her eyes makes heat wash over my skin. I’m acting like a crazy person. But I have to get out of here. Now.
ChapterSix
Mariana
His sigh is so heavy it’s almost a groan. I discreetly peek over my shoulder to see him staring at his laptop with a clenched jaw.
I’m annoying him. Badly.
It’s not like I’m constantly asking him questions and distracting him from his work. I’m a pro at organizing books and articles. Any questions I’ve asked have been to make the process of researching easy for him.
I’m intruding on his space. That must be it. Or maybe he wanted to organize the books himself. I would much prefer to do my own organizing if I were in his shoes. But then why did he let it go for so long? Why did he make it sound like such a burden?
He lets out another loud sigh before standing up from his desk. It’s probably the tenth time he’s gotten up to leave during the last two hours I’ve been organizing.
“Do you want coffee?” he asks.
I do want coffee, but he sounds like the last thing in the world he wants to do right now is get it for me.
“No, I’m fine.”
He’s gone for a long time, so I do my best to stay focused on my work. But as his absence extends, the more I find myself struggling to concentrate.
If he really didn’t want me to organize these books, he should have said so. I never took him for passive aggressive. He’s always so open and assertive with my family. He’s even scolded me on occasion. Like on Fourth of July a few years ago when I stood too close to the cone fountain firework. Brandon yanked me away and took the stick lighter from my hand. “I’m revoking your pyrotechnician privileges,” he said in a deep, stern voice that tied my stomach into knots.
I wish he would have spanked me.
Fuck, I need to keep my imagination in check. I can’t be horny for Brandon during work hours if I want him to see how good I am at my job.
I glance at the book in my hand, determined to keep focused on my task. Based on the title, it seems to be an introductory text on pastoral counseling. I bet he rarely uses this. He’s already skilled at counseling. It should probably go on one of the top shelves. I glance up to the open space on the far-left corner.
I can’t reach that, even if I go on my tiptoes and stretch my arm. Brandon is probably the only person here tall enough to reach that far…
I won’t be asking the grump to help me. I’ll find a stepladder before I do that.
When I peek out into the lobby, Harper is nowhere to be found. After looking around Brandon’s office, I make a quick decision. I grab the ottoman near the couches and roll it in front of the bookshelf. I step up onto it and stretch my arm as high as I can.
I’m still not high enough. Maybe I could—
“Mariana!” A deep voice booms.
I whip my head around, and the ottoman rolls underneath my feet. As I flail backward, time seems to slow. I brace for the impact, but it never comes.
Instead, I find myself wrapped in Brandon’s strong arms, his chest cushioning my fall. The textbook plops in front of me.
Our eyes meet, and for a moment, neither of us can look away. His eyes are almost black.
“Are you alright?” he asks breathlessly.
I nod, unable to speak, my cheeks burning. How did I let that happen? A rolling ottoman of all things. Of course I was going to fall.
“You’re sure you’re not hurt?” His big hand comes up and cradles the back of my head. “It looked like you clipped the desk.”
“No.” I swallow, shaking my head. “You caught me in time.”
