Page 4 of Not As Advertised

At the park, her long blonde hair had flowed over her shoulders and down her back, changing into a light purple at thebottom. Now, there was only the barest hint of color, tied up at the base of her neck.

She was just as beautiful as she was yesterday, but the difference in her expression was startling. Her eyes were a stunning mix of browns and greens, and her skin had a soft pink hue.

Less than twenty-four hours ago, her eyes had sparkled when she mentioned taking a photography class, and her cheeks were flushed with what I’d hoped was mutual attraction. It was a moment I’d never forget.

She’d been so focused on looking through her camera lens when I found her sitting on a bench on the opposite side of the park.

“Hi. You left this over there.” I’d spoken softly so I wouldn’t startle her.

Mission failed. Her hair whipped to the side so quickly that it smacked her in the face, and I’d surprised her despite my good intentions.

I held up her lens cap, waving it lightly. My unexpected approach must have shocked her because she had just stared at me for a moment. Not that I minded. She was even more beautiful up close. I spent those precious few seconds committing her creamy skin and hazel eyes to memory.

“Oh. Um. Thank you!” She took the lens cap from my hand.

I wondered if she felt the same electric charge between us when our fingers briefly brushed.

“No problem. Are you a photography student?” I surprised myself this time by sitting down on the opposite end of the bench. Obviously, I wasn’t making wise choices this afternoon.

“Not really. I’m taking a class. But it’s just for fun. I have a full-time job that kinda gets in the way. Gotta pay the bills, you know?” There was a sour note to her voice when she spoke about her job.

I was curious about what she did for a living that seemed to have stolen the sparkle from her eyes and brought an expression of resignation to her face.

“Don’t I know it,” I said. “I moved here for a job as well. What are you taking pictures of today?”

I wanted to bring that smile back to her gorgeous lips. But before I could engage her further, a cheerful voice called, “Hey! Sorry I’m late!” from behind us.

“A friend of yours?” I asked.

“Oh, yes. Sorry. That’s why I’m here. To meet my friend so she can help me with my photography assignment.”

“Ah, I see. I’ll leave you to it.” Her friend’s interruption was the catalyst I needed to do what I should have done from the start. Leave this girl alone and not get drawn into my attraction.

Now, that chemistry we’d had felt like a curse. A specter hanging over the good fortune of my only hours-old job.

Her eyes locked onto mine with a mixture of disbelief and a clear case of nerves. A rosy hue in her cheeks hinted she might be embarrassed.

I managed a greeting and dismissal of Linda that went right over Abigail’s head. I moved to shake her hand, but it took her a minute to snap out of her trance and offer me a stilted hello.

Linda’s departure left a vacuum of silence behind in her wake.

“Please sit.” I gestured toward one of the chairs in front of my desk. The distinct pressure inside urged me to take the chair beside her. Luckily, my brain was still in the driver’s seat and insisted I maintain a safe distance. Even having the office door closed felt illicit.

“Thank you, Mr. Sullivan,” she said as she sat stiffly.

With the tension ratcheted up in the room, she acted like she was about to be reprimanded in the principal’s office.Fuck, brain. Do. Not. Go. There.

I cleared my throat and buried that image deep. Unfortunately, the magma at the center of the Earth wasn’t deep enough to wipe that thought from my mind. Fighting the urge to yank on my collar for some extra oxygen, I got straight to the point.

“We should probably clear the air, right, Abigail?”

Abigail nodded, looking like she needed me to steer the conversation.

“Meeting you at the park yesterday was a nice surprise. I enjoyed your clear enthusiasm for photography. But let’s start with a clean slate, okay? I don’t want any misunderstandings between us, professionally speaking.”

“Mr. Sullivan.” I couldn’t think about the pleasant cadence of her voice when she said my name. It sounded too good to my ears. “Please call me Abbie. And I totally get it. We are going to be working together.”

I didn’t tellherto call me Aiden. I left that wall of formality between us. I wouldn’t be calling her Abbie anytime soon either. It was too familiar.

---