Page 106 of That Moment
“I can think of a really fun way to make a mess of your desk,” he smiles, eyes glinting.
“Mm.” I tap a page on my desk and tilt my head toward the hallway. “You here for Trent’s party prep?”
“Ranger wanted me to look at something in the brewhouse, see if my hydraulics knowledge will be of any help,” he says, but he’s not looking toward the brewhouse. He’s lingering in my doorway, looking at me like he’s about to make good on that mess comment.
“Come in,” I say, already standing. “I need a second opinion on this contract.”
He snorts. “On what? Hydraulics I can do. Contract law, not so much.”
“It’s a distribution contract,” I say, stepping around the desk and catching his hand without thinking. The physical jolt that shoots through me is embarrassing. I tug him inside and nudge the door half-closed with my hip. “I promise it’ll be painless.”
He lets me pull him to the far side of the desk and leans in so we’re shoulder to shoulder, both of us looking down at the dense block of text. His scent hits me, and my focus snaps like a cheap pencil.
“I see words,” he says, voice low, amused. “Long ones.”
“It’s boilerplate,” I murmur, because that’s the only word still accessible in my brain. “We’re fixing a penalty clause. If a distributor misses windows, they eat the costs, not us.”
He nods like he’s following, then tips his head so his mouth is close to my ear. “You know I don’t understand a damn thing you just said.”
I smile even though he can’t see it. “Then why do you look like you’re concentrating?”
“Because you look sexy when you talk law,” he says, no hesitation. “Your voice is different, like this office voice. You pronounce everything precisely, and your focus is sharp. Makes me want to test how fast I can ruin your neat little piles.”
Heat flashes across my face. “Don’t you dare,” I whisper, but my pulse is ricocheting so hard I’m confident he can hear it.
He turns me gently so I’m facing him, my back to the desk. He braces one hand on my hip on the desktop, careful, like he’s making sure not to touch me. The other hand lifts, thumb brushing the corner of my mouth, an absent, reverent touch that should not undo me the way it does.
“I like seeing you here,” I admit, low. “In my space.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” My fingers find his belt. I loop two fingers over it, letting my hand anchor there. “Feels normal.”
“What else do you want to feel right now, Adrienne?” His hand snakes behind my head, bringing me forward so that my lips are a breath from his.
I should tell him to go find Ranger, to be responsible, to stop staring at me like he’s already undressing me with his eyes. Instead, I tilt my chin that last inch.
His thumb strokes along my jaw. I sigh into his mouth. The sigh becomes an invitation, and he takes it, deepening the kiss like there’s no rush. But then, he steps back, barely, like he’s reminding himself we’re at my office and not a dark corner of his shop. He rests his forehead against mine. “Ranger’s gonna come looking.”
“I don’t care,” I whisper, pulling him back to me.
“Liar.”
“Okay. I care a little.”
“Adrienne,” Ranger’s voice booms from the hall, closer now. “You seen Scotty?”
Scotty kisses me once more before stepping toward the door. “I’ll come by later if I can.”
“Promise?” slips out before I can stop it.
His eyes flick to my mouth, then up. “I don’t say it if I don’t mean it.”
He calls just after six, my phone buzzing across the kitchen counter while I’m rifling the fridge for something to eat.
“Hey, baby.” His voice is rough with apology. “I can’t come by tonight. Miss Arthur’s Buick died in the library lot, and she refuses to leave it. Says she won’t abandon her ‘dear companion.’ I’m sorry.”
I smile because I can hear him walking while he talks, hear the squeak of the side door, and the clang of a toolbox. “Alone with Miss Arthur this late? You're brave.”
