Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 48567 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 243(@200wpm)___ 194(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48567 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 243(@200wpm)___ 194(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
“My brother was just leaving.”
“Yes.” Gabe nods and holds up a sticky note.
“I’ll just be back with the numbers on that project you asked about. Good day Jim.”
“Gabe.”
His sticky note was blank.
Chapter 4
New Neighbor
AVA
I would marry this sandwich.
If there was a priest, a minister, a rabbi, I would stop them on their way to order their food and beg for it.
Beg.
I know it’s ridiculous to have tears continuously run down your face in a Subway restaurant while you’re holding a turkey sandwich, but I don’t think I’m at the point where I have any pride anymore. I just want food, and I’ve been without it for so long that I want to cry.
A tear runs down my cheek when I take my next bite. Before I know it, the entire sandwich is nearly gone and I’m finally able to breathe, or at least take a deep breath and think about my future.
I have a place to sleep that isn’t a homeless shelter.
I have a job that’s going to pay me real money.
And I also have a super grumpy boss who I don’t understand at all but, at the end of the day, if he just sticks to himself, then we’ll be fine.
I shiver.
I’m not attracted to him. That would be wrong and weird. Instead, I’m just… agitated, he throws me off in a way I wasn’t expecting; it didn’t help that he is so beautiful that I nearly choked on my tongue.
Had he asked me to do some fast math, I would have just stared at him and probably drooled.
So very professional of me.
I take one last bite and wrap everything together with the napkins, then get up and toss everything in the trash.
I don’t realize I’m being watched until I see him.
My boss.
The grumpy alpha dude with a clear personality disorder.
He stares at me for a few seconds, then just leaves.
“Okay,” I whisper under my breath.
“Not weird at all.”
I leave Subway and start walking toward the building, fully aware that since we’re both probably going to the same place that it looks like I’m following him
He walks into the giant glass building.
I follow.
Both of us scan our cards through security and stare at the same elevator even though they literally have eight.
“You ate then?” he finally asks.
“Yeah, I ate an entire sandwich and almost ate the entire store. I think I’m good.”
“Hmmm.” He reaches for my face with his massive hand, then pulls back.
“You probably still need more food. Go sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”
We get into the elevator and all I can think about is the way he smells. Like the woods, but also like burning incense full of cinnamon.
I want to jump him for no reason other than I’m suddenly so hot I don’t know what else to do with my life. Why does he feel like the cure for everything?
I move closer to him.
He moves away from me.
I take another step.
He looks down and I swear the guy’s so horrified you’d think he just saw a werewolf or something.
“Is that a hair?”
“What?”
“Hair.” He points at his black jacket; his pointer finger is literally shaking.
“I don’t do hair, it freaks me out, hate hair, doesn’t belong on other people unless it’s attached.” He starts to gag and then he points at it.
“I need it gone.”
“Okay?”
“Is that a question?”
“Um, sure?” Seriously, what’s with this guy? I mean, thanks for the food, but I didn’t have a CEO losing his mind over a strand of hair in an elevator on my bingo card for this year.
“Do you want me to just…” I move toward him, my fingers graze the hair as I bat it away from his suit.
“There, no more hair.”
He rewards me with food and I reward him with the ability to flick a piece of hair that doesn’t even belong to me, off his body..
Does that mean we’re even?
I open my mouth to ask when he shudders, his broad shoulders shaking like he still has shivers down his spine.
“Trichophobia?” I call out just as he steps outside the elevator and looks over his shoulder at me.
He adjusts the collar of his shirt.
“Yeah, something like that… it triggers me.”
Does everything trigger him?
“Oh. I’m sorry. I’ll be careful when I wear black.”
He opens his mouth, then snaps it shut—the clean lines of his sculpted face were nearly impossible to stare at, even when he looked angry like he did in that moment.
Was it what I said?
“Good.” He clips out.
“Have a nice evening.”
“You too!” I call after him, but he doesn’t turn around again. He heads to the corner apartment that takes up around half the floor, scans a keycard over it, walks in, allowing it to slam behind him.
I jump a foot and press a hand to my chest, then slowly walk in the same direction. I quickly realize the company apartment I was given… means I’m his new neighbor.