Page 41 of Love Me Stalk Me
I cannot getthat text out of my head.
It's just an AI. A fictional thing. A distraction, like Amanda said. Nothing to be obsessing over while trying to complete actual work tasks. But that hasn't stopped my mind from drifting back to it every few minutes.
Holy hell, Amanda. Way to ratchet up the heat level immediately. I swear, the woman has zero chill. Not that I expected her to, but still. A gradual build-up would have been nice. Maybe a few more conversations before she decided to kick down the door and introduce me to a whole new world of computer-generated filth. The text she sent was so explicit I'm surprised my phone didn't burst into flames.
I looked at the text once. Then I typed something about it being a mistake. Then I closed the app. I know Caleb responded—because he's programmed to. But I haven't had the guts to look at it yet, the notification sitting unread on my phone.
At first, I didn't want to. Then, as the day dragged on, I very much wanted to. The curiosity grew steadily more distracting by the hour. But between the sheer number of corporate emails trying to suck the soul from my body and the absolute nightmare that is sales planning for holiday season, I managed to stay just distracted enough to resist opening the app again.
I even got through a three-hour meeting with corporate to go over the finalized holiday forecast without completely losing my mind. My eyes glazed over around the time they started discussing projected foot traffic patterns, but I nodded at all the right moments and took enough notes to seem engaged. And somehow, miraculously, I'm actually leaving on time today. Which is so rare that I almost don't know what to do with myself. I head toward the exit, so lost in my thoughts that I almost run straight into a wallof muscle.
Again.
Correction: Callahan.
Again.
I stumble back, flustered, blinking up at him.
He raises a brow, amused. "We've got to stop meeting like this."
I groan, already recovering, already annoyed. "Maybe you should stop being built like a brick wall."
"Not my fault you're the one always walking into me."
I scowl, adjusting the strap of my bag on my shoulder. "Not my fault you're always in my way."
The expression on his face tells me he’s clearly more entertained than he should be.
Which, considering he’s literally in charge of catching criminals, is kind of insulting. The corners of his eyes crinkle slightly, softening his usual stoic edge.
He shifts slightly, eyes scanning my face like he's considering something, then nods toward the hallway. "You got a second? I wanted to go over my plan for beefing up security before the holiday rush."
I open my mouth to give some kind of half-hearted excuse, but then I look at him.
Really look at him.
His striking green eyes give nothing away, but still make me feel completely exposed. His ridiculous broad shoulders, the way he carries himself like he's in control of every room he steps into. The strong angles of his face, the slight shadow of stubble that's appeared since this morning. And suddenly, I don't want to leave.
I want to stay.
I want to sit in that conference room with him and listen to his deep, steady voice as he lays out his plans. I want to watch his forearms flex when he gestures. I want to see if I can coax that infuriatingly sexy half-smile out of him again.
And nope. NOPE.
This is not good.
This is Amanda's fault.
This is the AI's fault.
This is my fault for programming a damn chatbot that looks like Callahan and now I'm mixing them up in my head. The lines are blurring, and it's dangerous territory I don't need to be exploring. Not when I have a boyfriend. Even if said boyfriend hasn't truly seen me in months.
I need to get out of here.
My phone chimes, the sound cutting throughmy internal crisis.
I shake myself out of whatever trouble my brain was wandering into, and pull it out of my pocket, fully expecting to see a message from Caleb. My heart beats a little faster at the thought.
