Denny nods knowingly. “Is that why you’re here then? Feeding the boss?” The way he winks makes me think there’s a euphemism in there somewhere, but I’m choosing to ignore it.
“Just grabbing some food for myself and thought I’d pick up something for him. He’s been busy with quarterly meetings and—”
“I got it, I got it,” Denny says, cutting me off. “As soon as people start talking about offices and desk jobs, I tune out. Nothing personal, of course. I just can’t imagine the hustle and grind. It sounds terrible. Uh, no offense.”
I laugh, letting him know I’m not offended in the least. “That’s probably for the best. If you were in an office, who would make the world’s best burgers?”
Denny grins and says that’s why he likes me. I rattle off the order—one Taco Burger for me, and one Double Royal for Mr. Sloan, and then take my seat at the counter to wait for my food. It only takes a few minutes since Denny usually bumps my order to the front whenever I come in.
Sure enough, less than ten minutes later, I’m on my way back to the office. The elevator fills with the greasy, salty, marvelous smell of food that’s terrible for you, but oh so delicious.
When I get to Mr. Sloan’s floor, I stop by my little half cubicle, which is mostly barren. I don’t spend much time here since I’m mostly out running errands and taking care of all the day-to-day details of Mr. Sloan’s life so he doesn’t have to. I do, however, have a pen and paper. I scrawl out a note and staple it to the paper bag containing his burger.
Carefully and quietly, I tiptoe to the door of his office, which of course has no windows, and set the food down. I lift my fist to knock but then decide against it. I’ve yet to see the mighty Vincent Sloan in person. Something tells me it would scare him off if I barged in with food.
I’m not sure when it happened, but I’ve made it my new life goal to get Mr. Sloan to come out of his shell, just a little bit. This could either be a major breakthrough or a major setback. I realize I’m basically hunting my grouchy, antisocial boss. Coaxing him out of hiding with a tasty burger.
That thought shouldn’t make me giddy, and it certainly shouldn’t make my pulse race and my core throb. I shouldn’t have this much fun teasing him. In fact, I shouldn’t be here at all. But I’m not going anywhere.
I grab my phone and dart off to the side, crouching behind a huge potted plant. I have a great view of the door to his office while still remaining out of sight to Mr. Sloan. Pulling up his contact info, I type out a quick message and hit send.
Dinner is outside your door. I’m headed home unless you need anything else.
Those three little bubbles appear and disappear. I stare at the screen, willing him to respond. Is he upset? Thankful? I’d worry that he already left for the day, but that’s impossible. He’s the first in and last out.
I’m so focused on my phone, I almost don’t hear the doorknob click or the door swinging open a half inch. Once I realize the man himself is coming out of his office, I stare at him with rapt attention.
He’s tall, that’s for sure. I knew he was, but seeing him up close… and those muscles. God, he’s absolutely shredded. I have a sudden appreciation for his ridiculously expensive suits. The one he’s wearing fits impeccably, molding to his thick biceps and broad chest. He’s not wearing the jacket, just the pristine white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Hello, forearms. Why is that so sexy?
Mr. Sloan looks to his left, then to his right, his eyes gliding over my hiding spot. He doesn’t notice me, which is good. I want to observe the man when he thinks he’s alone.
One massive hand combs through his hair, making the muscles in his arm flex. Holycrap,I had no idea I had an arm fetish, but I can’t seem to get enough of them. At least, on this man.
When his dark hair is swept away from his face, I can see more of his strong brow, straight nose, and well-trimmed beard. His eyes sweep over the hallway and reception area one last time, and I use it as an opportunity to peer into those dark eyes. What secrets do they hold?
Finally, Mr. Sloan seems content in the knowledge that he’s alone. He bends down and grabs the food, looking inside. His nose scrunches up, and I barely suppress a giggle. With a body like his, I imagine he hasn’t had a burger in years. He’ll take one bite and be hooked.
He sees the note, pausing to read it. Then, the most amazing thing happens.
His lips twitch, and one side curls up into the barest hint of a grin.
My heart thunders in my chest and my breath catches in my throat. I want to hug him and fist pump the air and also, strangely, cry. When was the last time Mr. Sloan smiled? How can I get him to do it again? He said he didn’t like my sass, but I’m thinking it’s time to dial it up a bit. He liked my note, after all.
The next second, Mr. Sloan goes back into his office, shutting the door. I slump against the wall, trying to calm my rapid heartbeat. My face is flushed, and there’s an odd tingle working its way down my spine and into my center. My thighs press together automatically, and I wiggle on the floor, trying to ease whatever restless sensation is trying to take over my body. After a few deep breaths, I realize I’m more turned on than I’ve ever been in my whole life.
Uh oh. This wasn’t the plan.
I scurry out of my hiding spot and hightail it out of the building as fast as I can without raising suspicion. I need to get home before I unpack all these new and scary emotions. I think I may be in too deep, but there’s no turning back now. I got Mr. Sloan to smile. Now I need him to smile at me. Just me. Forever.
I’m so screwed.