Page 40 of That Moment
“Scotty? You still here?”
Axel.
His voice shatters the moment. Scotty’s hand drops away instantly, the warmth of his body retreating as he steps back. I stumble for distance too, trying to steady my breathing, smooth my hair, anything to erase the look that’s still blazing between us.
By the time Axel rounds the corner, Scotty’s posture has shifted into a casual, easy stance, like the air isn’t still crackling with what we almost did. He twirls the keys once on his finger, expression calm.
“Truck’s out front,” Scotty says, handing them over. “Oil change, new filter, she’s good to go.”
Axel claps him on the shoulder, oblivious to what was brewing. They start talking about torque specs or brake pads or something I can’t focus on because all I can feel is the phantom weight of Scotty’s hand at my waist.
When he turns to leave, he glances back at me just once. It’s a flicker, half a second, but his eyes linger long enough to light me up all over again.
And then he’s gone.
I stay rooted in the hallway long after Scotty’s gone, my pulse still drumming in my throat. The glass door swings shut behindhim, cutting off that lingering look—the one that said everything he didn’t have the nerve to say out loud.
I want to chase after him and tell him we should blow the workday off and finish what we started last night.
Instead, I force myself back into my office, shut the door, and lean against it like I need the support. I look down at my hands and hold them out. They’re actually shaking.
You are so incredibly screwed.
I cross to my desk, stack a few folders just for something to do, and sink into my chair. The pen I dropped earlier is still on the floor. I stare at it and think about the way his thumb brushed my jaw.
It’s ridiculous. I’m ridiculous.
I’m trying to will my heartbeat into something normal when my door flies open without a knock.
“Wow,” a familiar voice huffs. “That was... something.”
I look up to find Axel leaning in the doorway, one shoulder propped against the frame, that cocky grin spreading slowly and smugly.
“Do you not understand the concept of privacy?” I ask, deadpan. “Please knock before bursting into my office. I’m clearly in the middle of something.”
“Do you not understand the concept of subtlety?” he shoots back, stepping inside and completely ignoring my attempt to get him to leave.“Half the office just saw you practically melt into the wall watching Scotty walk away.”
I guess he did notice. Shit.
I groan and cover my face with my hands. “Oh my God.”
“You’re blushing,” he says, way too pleased with himself.
“It’s hot in here,” I mutter, reaching for the nearest contract and fanning myself. “Maybe you should lay off the commentary.”
“Hot, huh?” He laughs. “Sure. Has nothing to do with the six-foot-four cowboy who just had his hand on your waist in the middle of the hallway… at work?”
I drop my hands and glare. “Do you seriously not have work to do?”
“I do,” he says, shrugging easily. “But this is way more entertaining.”
“Go away, Axel.”
“Can’t. Now I’m invested.” He kicks my door shut and then pulls up a chair across from my desk and drops into it, arms crossed over his chest. “So, are we gonna talk about the fact that you were seconds away from sucking face with Scotty Bescher in broad daylight, or should I guess how far it’s already gone?”
I point at the door. “Get. Out.”
“No.”
