Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 119184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Not deodorant, not laundry powder, but man.
Something in my belly flips over.
Not the reaction I need.
His face is so serious, but the light in his eyes shifts. There’s no unseeing the heat flare.
Oh no, no, no.
Absolutely not.
I am so not going to let this cheesy meet-cute thing happen to me.
And Trish is standing up, forming an audience with a couple grinning clients, watching me defying gravity in this handsome stranger’s arms.
I snap back into my senses and struggle to my feet, taking a large step back to give us both some much-needed breathing room.
“I have to get to work,” I snap, putting the box on the reception desk and brushing myself off. Trish can deal with it later. I start walking.
“You’re welcome!” he shouts after me.
I don’t dare look back.
I don’t need to see how the heat in his eyes dies.
My ears are still ringing as I stop moving, burning like they’re a hundred degrees. Sherry’s owner, a stocky man in his fifties, bursts through the door, bellowing, “Oh God! I’m so sorry! She just got away from me.”
“That’s all right.” I keep my back turned on Brady, pointedly ignoring him. “Let’s go get her settled in, shall we?”
After the dramatic near-face-planting incident, I thought this day couldn’t get worse.
I thought wrong.
It’s just after close. I’m finishing up my shift and closing down the clinic when I hear a voice that walks needles up my back.
Harry Jay?
It can’t be.
It’s been years since I last saw him, since he smashed my heart with a sledgehammer. But I’d recognize that smarmy, radio-perfect voice anywhere. And somehow he’s here, standing in the lobby, announcing to Trish that he’s here for a meeting with Dr. Ezzie.
I do the only sane thing a girl in my position can—I dive into the cleaning closet.
Not my finest moment, I’ll admit. But there’s no way I want to risk Harry getting a good look at me.
He doesn’t know I work here, and ideally, we’ll keep it that way.
My heart starts pounding. My hands go slick with sweat.
I finally reached the point where I didn’t think about him for months. Maybe longer. Life has been perfectly great without him haunting my memory.
But good things don’t last when you’re Lena Joly.
Deep breath.
I hate how he still has the power to turn my stomach inside out, even after all this time. All the anxiety, the humiliation, the panic, comes rushing back.
Footsteps. He’s heading to Dr. Ezzie’s office, I think.
I wait until I hear the door close before I slip back out of the closet and shut the door behind me.
Crap, that was close.
But I can’t run. As tempting as it is to get the hell out of here, I have cleaning to do and supplies to unpack. Trish gets to head home once we close to the public, but techs don’t get that luxury.
Calm down.
Who cares if he’s here? Maybe he’s a client now.
But I didn’t hear anything about an animal. And there was nothing on Ezzie’s schedule about an appointment this late.
That’s so unlikely, it hurts. Harry Jay never showed the slightest interest in animals.
Pretty typical when you’re the bastard son of a slime mold and a scorpion.
Pure scum of the earth disguised as a charming young man with an old-timey mustache who can talk anyone into massive trouble.
At least, that’s how he was in college, when I knew him—and I seriously doubt he’s changed. If anything, he’s probably gotten worse.
I scowl as I disinfect the table, scrubbing in anger.
How am I dealing with him again? After I blocked him and his scumbag friends years ago.
I had no good reason to ever see him again.
And too much reason to think about him, to hate myself for ever falling for his crap.
Trouble is, you don’t just shrug and get over a bad relationship like that. Not after what he pulled.
My hands are shaking, and I stare at them, unsure if what I’m feeling right now is anger or embarrassment or just pure adrenaline stabbing through my veins.
But there’s only one raw emotion closing my throat, and that’s the one I won’t acknowledge.
Fear.
God, I hate the way he makes me feel so cornered. My brain doesn’t recognize that I’m at work and totally safe.
I force myself to finish up so I can get out of here, but about half an hour later, just as I’m grabbing my last box of supplies to bring to the back room and unpack, a deep voice calls my name.
“Lena?”
One word, half question and half hungry predator.
My body locks up. He knows I’m here.
No time to dive into a cleaning closet now.
I don’t dare turn as he stalks closer, herding me against the door with an oily smile I’d love to rip right off his face.
I can see his reflection in the glass door. Still just as tall and handsome as ever with that coppery hair brushed back off his forehead and those laser-green eyes. Still wearing his trademark mustache, this ridiculous thing from the 1900s that’s shaped and waxed until it’s almost wider than his face.