Page 62 of My Office Rival

Shut the fuck up. Are you in love with the Closer?

Cynthia

NO. Not love. Lust maybe?

Margo

I’m so calling you when I’m done with family brunch. Andrew’s mother just gave me a Chanel necklace.

WHY

Want it?

I laughed helplessly into the pillow I was lounging on. Andrew’s mom was forever trying to win Margo’s affections with expensive gifts, but Margo was more of a slouchy sweater girl than a Chanel necklace girl.

Margo

Anyway, I’m hiding in the bathroom.

How does he make you feel?

Cynthia

Like I’m going to be sick every time he looks at me.

Like I might die if I didn’t kiss him again. Like leaving this rental house might physically break me.

Margo

Knew it.

Yeah, I’m fucked.

37

JASON

“There has to be parking here somewhere,” I muttered as I circled. Every damn person in the state was at this event, and the grassy parking area was full of lifted pickup trucks and beat up SUVs. Our tiny rental car looked dinky in comparison. The sight of the mud splatters on the sides of the cars and the occasional pair of truck nuts made me shudder. I had known too many men, boys really, who used cars as a cover for their small egos.

“I had no idea this would be so popular.” Cynthia stared out the window, her voice awed. “It’s like being in another country.”

I snorted as I finally pulled in to an empty spot on the edge of the parking lot. “Try not to stare at the locals. It makes them angry.”

“You’re not going to be weird about this whole thing, are you?”

I knew she meant how I had clammed up at the bar last weekend. I sure as hell was going to try. “It’s tough to know what can…remind me, but I’ll do my best.”

“Okay.” She accepted that and hopped out of the car.

I closed my eyes briefly. There would be people here who reminded me ofthem. My foster family. The last one I’d ever had before I’d turned eighteen and gotten the hell out of there. I was not going to let my past control me.

Cynthia rapped on the hood. “Let’s go, loser.”

Her tone snapped me out of it. I smiled ruefully and shook my head before climbing out of the painfully small car.

“All right, let’s do this. Fried dough first, or do you want to examine the livestock?” I asked. We trekked across the grass, our feet kicking up dust, me in a long-sleeved shirt and light jacket, and her in a pair of sinfully tight jeans and a tie-dye sweatshirt. Her hair was up and her eyes sparkled. I liked weekend Cynthia. She was a little more approachable. Even her mouth was softer, not set in frustration like it was at the office. That damnable bottom lip had the tiniest divot under it. I kept glancing at her and looking away.

“Hmm. It all sounds so fun. I’m not hungry yet. Maybe let’s check out the livestock?” She sounded skeptical and I laughed.

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