Page 49 of Phishing for Love
“Then get your own chocolate bar.”
“It’s too far.”
“The vending machine is right there, Aaron.”
“I’m aware of that, minion,” he says, his expression daring me to renege on our wager. “Are you forgetting our bet?”
I offer him a tight smile. “Not with you reminding me every five minutes.”
Sofia and Kenzie are silent, their gazes bouncing between us like they’re enthralled spectators at a tennis match. They look torn between wanting to duck for cover or greedily soak up every last second of our interaction.
Aaron raises an expectant eyebrow. “Well?”
I clench my teeth. “One chocolate bar coming up.”
Snatching the card out of his hand, I get him his chocolate and thrust it at his chest. His stupid, stubborn, well-defined chest. “Try not to choke on it.”
“Thank you.” He unwraps it slowly and takes a bite. “Tastes all the more sweeter for the challenge,” he says before he saunters away.
What the heck is that supposed to mean?
Throwing my hands in the air, I turn to face Sofia and Kenzie, who are staring at me wide-eyed.
“You see how annoying he is?”
They don’t reply, still staring at me.
“What?” I ask defensively.
My two friends trade a meaningful glance. Then Kenzie begins to fan her face, while Sofia plucks at her blouse like she’s trying to cool herself down.
“Is it hot in here or is it just me?” Sofia says at last, a wide grin breaking across her face.
“It’s definitely heated up,” Kenzie confirms, her eyes dancing.
Sofia’s still grinning. “I feel like I need to jump into one of those cold plunge pools.”
“Oh, shut it,” I say to them both, and get out of there. Fast.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The next two weeks fly by. Along with Sofia and Kenzie, I’m glued to my desk for most of that time, all of us working hard on the revised designs and copy for the new pug-less Christmas Day card range.
The workspace has been particularly noisy this past week with phones ringing, the buzz of conversation, tapping of keyboards, and bursts of raucous laughter. Some days, it’s so difficult to focus I leave the office early and take my work home with me, loathe to spend even another minute huddled in my cubicle.
I have the option of writing in the quiet of the Creative Room, but the memory of Aaron staring at me with such fierce heat in his eyes keeps me away.
I read somewhere that a person has about forty thousand thoughts in a day. When I realize that roughly twenty thousand of mine feature Aaron, alarm stirs inside me. Most of those thoughts involve me inflicting some sort of punishment upon him—locking him out of his office, salting his coffee, saturating his office in color, tying him up and...No! My wayward thoughts have veered off in a reckless direction and I have to abruptly wrestle them back in line.
I don’t see much of Nathan during this time. He’s busy with deadlines and has to work late most evenings. On the weekends, he’s so distracted and exhausted he’s not interested in venturing out, preferring to relax in front of the TV. I drive over to his place to join him, but leave after a few hours, too fidgety to sit still. I’mdesperate to keep active in order to spend less time in my head, which feels like a dangerous place at the moment. I bury myself in work, and when I get home, I cook and clean, visit my family and organize get-togethers with Sofia and Kenzie in an attempt to quiet whatever it is that’s so restless inside me.
One beautiful, sunny Monday morning, I march into Aaron’s office with a fake green plant I purchased from IKEA and deposit it ceremoniously on his desk.
Taking off his glasses, Aaron folds his arms and frowns at it in suspicion.
“It’s a plant,” I reassure him. “It won’t bite.”
“I’ll have to look after it,” he grumbles.
