perfect height to…. Damn that Trevor for putting such ideas in my head (like they weren’t there before). I was an office ho.
“Look,” he said, raising his coffee cup to his lips and pausing to take a drink, “I think this thing with your dog could be moot anyway.”
“Finn is not moot.”
“The point is moot. Not your dog.”
“Can we stop using the word moot?”
His laugh was tinged with frustration. “Will you listen to me?”
I shut up for a moment.
“The point would be… a nonfactor if you guys got back together.”
“Apparently the rumor that straight guys don’t listen is true,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Let me refresh your memory. Me gay. Trevor straight. Me like boy. Boy like girl.”
He rolled his eyes at my caveman impression. “Yeah, I heard what he said. I also heard what he didn’t. You ever notice that people say the most when they’re not talking at all?”
“Glad I was present the exact moment that you turned into Confucius.”
“Fine, Mackenzie, use your sarcasm to keep me at arm’s length. But you know I’m right. It doesn’t sound like he’s done with you. And you certainly don’t look like you’re done with him,” he added.
I didn’t debate the point because really, I was realizing something new and scary myself. I was mad at Trevor. Frustrated with him, certainly. He’d owed me more as his friend and boyfriend both. But he wasn’t the one I desired right now. He wasn’t the one who’d been on my mind all night. And he certainly wasn’t the one I’d imagined fucking me at Asher’s. Nor the one whose package I was covertly staring at, conveniently at eye level.
Suddenly his hand appeared in my line of vision as he laid it on mine and squeezed. My eyes shot up to his, and we looked at one another, his expression surely as confused as mine, before he yanked his hand away.
“Give him some time. Maybe he’ll come around. I’ll bet he’s confused.”
I gave him an eyebrow. My gaydar had the occasional fritz, but I knew I’d felt a vibe. “Seems to be going around.”
He didn’t pretend to misunderstand me and flushed adorably.
“Mr. Channing?” The voice was back.
Jordan answered the intercom, looking absolutely relieved to not have to field that one. “Yes, Susan?”
“Rachel just arrived in the lobby. Should I ask her to come up?”
“No,” he said quickly. “I’m on my way down.”
Feeling dismissed, I stood. I didn’t offer my hand. It was just as well that I wouldn’t be feeling the sparks from Jordan Channing’s hand in mine again. What the hell was with me and straight guys lately?
“Want to walk with me to the lobby?” he asked, and I declined.
“I know my way down.”
“Sure,” he said, nodding. After a moment, he cocked his head and asked, “You’re not going to listen to me, are you?”
Not a chance. The one guy I wanted to come running didn’t even play for my team. I didn’t say that, though. I waved instead on my way out. “Thanks for the save, Jordan.”
Chapter 6
I SLAMMED the door of my pickup with certain force, and it threatened me back, nearly falling off. I was still pissed at Trevor but not pissed enough to miss lunch. I’d planned to be at my desk today, and to avoid Drew’s evil eye when I usually sauntered out for lunch break, I’d brought my lunch with me.
Or at least that’s what I called my sad sandwich and apple this morning. I shook out the paper sack, disbelieving I’d packed so light. Lunch always seemed less important in the morning, and you’d think I would’ve learned my lesson by now. Usually I was stuck staring at Drew’s expertly packed meal—leftovers from the night before—complete with side dishes and silverware. I dug up an old bottle of apple juice from the cab and took a swig.
“Ugh!” Apparently old apple juice tasted a bit like urine.
I listened to random stations in my car, tapping my fingers on the steering wheel. At this rate, lunch wouldn’t last long
“Look,” he said, raising his coffee cup to his lips and pausing to take a drink, “I think this thing with your dog could be moot anyway.”
“Finn is not moot.”
“The point is moot. Not your dog.”
“Can we stop using the word moot?”
His laugh was tinged with frustration. “Will you listen to me?”
I shut up for a moment.
“The point would be… a nonfactor if you guys got back together.”
“Apparently the rumor that straight guys don’t listen is true,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Let me refresh your memory. Me gay. Trevor straight. Me like boy. Boy like girl.”
He rolled his eyes at my caveman impression. “Yeah, I heard what he said. I also heard what he didn’t. You ever notice that people say the most when they’re not talking at all?”
“Glad I was present the exact moment that you turned into Confucius.”
“Fine, Mackenzie, use your sarcasm to keep me at arm’s length. But you know I’m right. It doesn’t sound like he’s done with you. And you certainly don’t look like you’re done with him,” he added.
I didn’t debate the point because really, I was realizing something new and scary myself. I was mad at Trevor. Frustrated with him, certainly. He’d owed me more as his friend and boyfriend both. But he wasn’t the one I desired right now. He wasn’t the one who’d been on my mind all night. And he certainly wasn’t the one I’d imagined fucking me at Asher’s. Nor the one whose package I was covertly staring at, conveniently at eye level.
Suddenly his hand appeared in my line of vision as he laid it on mine and squeezed. My eyes shot up to his, and we looked at one another, his expression surely as confused as mine, before he yanked his hand away.
“Give him some time. Maybe he’ll come around. I’ll bet he’s confused.”
I gave him an eyebrow. My gaydar had the occasional fritz, but I knew I’d felt a vibe. “Seems to be going around.”
He didn’t pretend to misunderstand me and flushed adorably.
“Mr. Channing?” The voice was back.
Jordan answered the intercom, looking absolutely relieved to not have to field that one. “Yes, Susan?”
“Rachel just arrived in the lobby. Should I ask her to come up?”
“No,” he said quickly. “I’m on my way down.”
Feeling dismissed, I stood. I didn’t offer my hand. It was just as well that I wouldn’t be feeling the sparks from Jordan Channing’s hand in mine again. What the hell was with me and straight guys lately?
“Want to walk with me to the lobby?” he asked, and I declined.
“I know my way down.”
“Sure,” he said, nodding. After a moment, he cocked his head and asked, “You’re not going to listen to me, are you?”
Not a chance. The one guy I wanted to come running didn’t even play for my team. I didn’t say that, though. I waved instead on my way out. “Thanks for the save, Jordan.”
Chapter 6
I SLAMMED the door of my pickup with certain force, and it threatened me back, nearly falling off. I was still pissed at Trevor but not pissed enough to miss lunch. I’d planned to be at my desk today, and to avoid Drew’s evil eye when I usually sauntered out for lunch break, I’d brought my lunch with me.
Or at least that’s what I called my sad sandwich and apple this morning. I shook out the paper sack, disbelieving I’d packed so light. Lunch always seemed less important in the morning, and you’d think I would’ve learned my lesson by now. Usually I was stuck staring at Drew’s expertly packed meal—leftovers from the night before—complete with side dishes and silverware. I dug up an old bottle of apple juice from the cab and took a swig.
“Ugh!” Apparently old apple juice tasted a bit like urine.
I listened to random stations in my car, tapping my fingers on the steering wheel. At this rate, lunch wouldn’t last long
Similar Books
