Page 95 of When We Dance

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I don’t know what his new plans are. But he looks like he’s going out. And it’s six in the morning.

I get a weird vibe about the whole thing, so when the man in front of me hands me my juice, the cold glass meets an icy hand.

I wrap my fingers around it, thanking the man who walks back to his desk while I stare at Alejandro, one cold drink in one hand. One warm drink in the other.

Hot and cold. The way I am.

Something happened. I study his face. His features are hard, a frown creasing his brow. He looks pissed, or maybe it’s me projecting. I’ve been guilty of doing that quite often lately.

But I think I’m right.

He is different now. Different than hours ago. His eyes stare blankly at the exit. There’s no chance he looks my way, and I’m too far away to ask him. Where is he going? What makes him mad?

The car is waiting for him.

Seriously? Where is he going dressed up like that? Is he meeting someone?

At six o’clock in the morning on a Saturday?

Like in a business meeting? No way. He’s not dressed for business. He looks hot as fuck, especially since he appears to be so furious. Consumed by something.

I wonder what it is.

It takes seconds before I peer at his back while he walks through the door, heading straight to his ride.

The parking valet greets him and moves away while he slides into the driver’s seat. I can’t believe I’m gawking.

Sexy man. Sexy car. Especially when the engine roars and he pulls away quite fast.

Like someone who’s had too much coffee. Or some frustration to vent.

All right.

I straighten, relax my neck, and breathe slowly in and out.

Things go well.

I take another drink of coffee. And juice. And coffee. And juice.

I need to stop doing that.

Eventually, I set the empty juice glass down, spin on my heel, and head to the elevator, holding my bag and my coffee.

I need to sleep on this. Things will get better. I’m sure they will.

I walk into a block of silence on my floor.

It’s so nice and quiet I could fall asleep in one of the large armchairs tucked next to the luxurious plants.

Eventually, I reach my door and start rifling through the contents of my bag, searching for my key card.

“Bingo…” I mutter quietly when I fish it out.

The door smoothly opens a moment later.

I sort of pivot, holding it open with my shoulder since I can’t use my hands.

Once inside, I let the door fall closed and set my things down on a small table in the corner, my back turned to the room.


Tags: Shayne Ford Romance