It wasn’t anything I intended on doing anytime soon.
I chewed the inside of my lip. I knew I had to text Ollie and thank him for the flowers—and I was truly grateful—but I didn’t know what to say.
Thank you didn’t seem adequate.
Anything else seemed too much.
Ugh.
I was overthinking this, wasn’t I?
Yes, I was. Totally overthinking this.
I opened my messages with him and typed.
ME: Thank you for the flowers.
I hesitated. No, no. That was too simple.
I just got the flowers… Thank you.
Ugh. Still not right.
The flowers are beautiful. Thank you. You shouldn’t have.
Oh, that still wasn’t it. For the love of God, why was this so hard?
A shrill ring echoed through the room, and I squealed, staring at my desk phone. I put my phone down and switched it for the handset. “Hello?”
The line went dead.
Ugh.
Freaking fake calls. I was getting so over those.
My cell buzzed, and I once again switched the phones over.
OLIVER: Just wanted to say thank you properly. Glad you liked them. x
Wait.
What?
What did I send?
Holy shit.
I blinked fast and read my message. It was the last thing I’d tapped out, and I blew out a long breath.
Well, it could have been worse.
At least I’d gotten that out of the way, and his message didn’t really warrant a response.
For now. Leo did have practice tonight, after all, and I’d have to see him then.
Ohhhh.
I dropped my forehead onto the desk. What was I doing? Why was I acting like a teenager over this? I was a mother, for goodness’ sake. I had no business fluttering about like I was just seeing my teenage crush in person after years of having a poster on my wall.
I sat up and looked at the time. I had a ton of work to do. I didn’t have enough time to be sitting here lollygagging and thinking about someone who may or may not have feelings for me.
And I definitely didn’t need to be doodling a heart on the notebook to my right.
Damn it.
I tore off that page, scrunched it up, and tossed it in the metal trashcan under my desk right as two knocks sounded at my door and it was pushed open.
“Ebony, come on in,” I drawled, pushing hair from my face. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“How is your special edition coming on?” she asked, feigning interest as she walked around my office.
God, I hated her.
“Well, thank you. What are you doing in here?”
“I need you to work on a piece for me.” She turned and looked at me through her appropriately colored black hair. “There’s a concert by a local band this Saturday at Bronco’s and I need you to cover it.”
“Uh, I can’t. I’m busy working on the edition about the sports center, and you know that, since you started with it. Can’t someone else do it?”
“Nope. They’re all busy, and I know you don’t have your kid this weekend.”
“Exactly. This weekend is my weekend off. Mr. Chester told you I can’t pick up your assignments while I’m working on this. You’ll have to do it yourself.” I got up and held the door open a little wider in the hope she’d get the point. “If you don’t mind…”
Ebony approached the flowers instead of leaving and ran her finger over one of the petals of a lily. I scowled as she plucked the card out from between the greenery and opened it.
“Do you mind? That’s private.”
“‘London, thanks again for dinner last night. It’s really been a long time since I had homecooked food. Ollie,’” she read, lifting her eyes to mine and pouting. “How sweet. But, wait, isn’t Ollie the British guy at the sports center?”
I glared at her. I knew exactly what she was implying, and I knew exactly what she would do with whatever conclusion she was going to jump to with absolutely no information whatsoever.
“Does Mr. Chester know you’re flirting on office time?”
“You should be careful jumping to conclusions. You never know what cliff you might end up falling off.”
“Ooh, very philosophical,” she snapped. “I’m keeping an eye on you, London. If I find that you’re using work time to conduct personal activities, I’m going to make sure this project is your last.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“Absolutely not. Just reminding you that I’m your superior.” She stalked out of my office, her heels clicking on the floor.
“Yet here I am, working on the big project you expected, while you’re covering a local band on Saturday night.”
She froze, then turned to glare at me over her shoulder. “Why, you—”
“Careful sitting up so high on your horse,” I said flatly. “It’s going to hurt if you ever fall off.”
Then I slammed the door on her and locked it so she couldn’t burst back in.
I sat back at my laptop and got to work on typing up some of my interview with Sebastian. It’d been only half an hour when there was another knock at my door, and I jerked up.