C5 5

The day gets away from me again, and it’s not until I hear Veronica closing up that I realize how late it’s gotten. We have a private party going out with Wes tonight, and I needed their signed contract yesterday. Veronica promised she’d get their signatures today.

“Do you have the Hammish contract?” I push out of my desk and stride toward reception. I should’ve asked earlier, but, truth be told, I was avoiding her.

Veronica locks the front door and turns the sign instructing people to go online for reservations or try back tomorrow. All the while, she doesn’t spare me a fucking glance. Why should she? I’m just her boss. Just the asshole with the temper who didn’t bother asking if she was okay before letting loose on her this morning.

But it doesn’t change the fact that I need that paperwork. I soften my tone. “Veronica? The contract?”

She sighs. “I put it in the shared drive like you told me to.”

“I didn’t see it there.”

“Are you sure?” Her full lips pull into a grimace, and the urge to kiss it away fuels my shitty mood.

“I just refreshed.” I sound like a dick, but we shouldn’t be working together. She makes me fucking crazy. I focus my glower on the wall behind her head while she circles back to the computer to check. I’m trying really hard not to use the moment to get another look at her thighs.

Most days I can’t decide if I want to fight with her or fuck her, and, yeah, even if she didn’t hate my guts, it’s not a good look. I’m not that guy anymore.

Just the fact that I want her pisses me off, and I grit my teeth as she leans over the desk to get a closer look at the monitor.

“Shit,” she whispers, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think that was embarrassment in her tone. “Here. I’ll move it now.” She clicks her mouse a few times before closing the laptop and straightening, no trace of chagrin on her face as she meets my eyes and lifts her chin. “It’s there now.”

“You want a parade? I asked for it by lunch.” I pointedly shift my gaze to the clock. Five p.m.

Her cheeks flush a pretty pink. “Don’t be a dick,” she snaps.

“I hired you as a favor,” I say, all plans of apologizing out the window. “You’re here to make my life easier, not harder.”

Her jaw drops, and I hear the words I just said. I’m an asshole. I’m a horny asshole who apparently can’t handle keeping his hands off Veronica Maddox without turning into a raging dick. But hell, this would be easier if I didn’t know how good it feels to be inside her. It would be easier if I didn’t remember the sounds she made when I scraped my teeth over the swell of her breast.

Creep.

“What exactly do you think I do out here for eight hours a day?” she snaps. “My nails?”

Of course I know she works hard. That she even has to ask proves that I’m screwing this up. I grimace. “I didn’t—”

“Never mind.” Veronica steps away and doesn’t spare me a glance as she opens my office door. “I have to go pick up my son.” She grabs her purse off her desk and shoves out through the front door. And I watch the swish of her hips with every step.

Veronica

S

ometimes life as a single mom feels like a series of ticking clocks. I wake up in the morning and I’m on the clock. Shower, dress, wake Jacks—if he somehow isn’t awake yet—to change and feed him, and hustle out the door. Don’t forget our lunches or Jacks’ blankie. I drop him off with Star at Ooh La La! because preschool doesn’t officially start until nine, and she can walk him across the street on her break. Once I leave Jacks with my best friend, I rush to get to work on time. There, I work against the clock again, trying to reply to as many messages from our email and social media accounts as possible before turning on the phones and opening the doors for the day. At lunch, I’m on the clock again—rushing to the preschool to pick up Jacks and take him to daycare for the afternoon. Then I get back to work to finish my day. If I leave on time, I have an hour between when I leave work and when I pick up Jacks. Seems like plenty of time, until that hour becomes your only opportunity to take care of errands you need to do alone. Christmas and birthday shopping are a must without Jacks, but half the time, I’m squeezing in a run to the store for this or that.

Tonight, I’m using my precious hour to shower and get ready for a rare night out with the girls. Normally, I pass when Amelia and Star try to get me to go out with them. I just don’t have the kind of life that lends itself to regular evenings out with friends. My sister would be happy to watch Jacks, but I try not to ask very often. Tonight, however, is an exception. It’s Star’s birthday, and all she wants is a night out with her girls at Jackson Brews. How could I say no? I only do this a few times a year.

No one takes a shower as fast as the mother of a toddler, so in record time I’m clean, dry, and exiting the bathroom with a towel wrapped around my body and another around my wet hair. A glance at my phone tells me I can spend nineteen minutes on my hair and makeup.

“Damn, girl. Look at you.”

I grip the top of the towel more tightly and bite back my cringe. Landon, my roommate’s boyfriend, is standing in the hall.

Mostly, I like living with June. Mostly, I feel safe here. But then there’s the week every month or so that her boyfriend’s around.

He works on an oil rig in Texas most of the time, and when he’s in town, he spends more time here than I anticipated. He’s not slimy—not exactly. But any time June’s not around, his glances in my direction turn to leers. I’ve made it a habit to never be alone with him. But today, I forgot. “Hey, Landon.”

He drags his bottom lip through his teeth and stares so hard at my towel that I wonder if he’s attempting telekinesis or something.

I sidestep him, headed to my room, but he blocks me, standing in front of my door.

“I think it’s time we talk.”