Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 34927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 175(@200wpm)___ 140(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 175(@200wpm)___ 140(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
That was the idea, anyway.
However, it became immediately apparent that my corner cubicle in Scratch Records’ mostly empty office wouldn’t give me any “cool” insight whatsoever. My parking-lot view was cut off by a partition, making it difficult to do even harmless reconnaissance. And truthfully, once I got into any type of numerical analysis, I had a hard time concentrating on anything else. I wasn’t going to bump into Bobby J without making an effort. It wasn’t that I wanted a redo of the night we met, but I would have loved to just…watch him in action. Short of knocking on the studio door and asking if I could swoon over him while he practiced, I needed a plan.
I had the beginnings of one worked out in my head as I made my way through the row of empty desks the following morning. I set my computer bag on the floor and took one last sip of coffee before sinking into my chair and—
“There you are! Geez, I thought you’d never get here. Do you want chocolate, glazed, or jelly?” Bobby J slid a pink box in front of me and opened the lid. “I’d recommend the maple, but those were the first to go.”
“Um…” I darted my gaze between him and the three donuts in wonder-slash-confusion. “You saved me a donut?”
“I saved you three donuts,” he replied. “Not easy to do with eight hungry dudes around. I gave these to Bianca for safekeeping. She didn’t know what your schedule was either.”
“Oh. Well, I’m here three days a week. Monday, Tuesday, and Friday from ten o’clock until…” Cue internal scream. Stop talking, stop talking! I let out an embarrassed half laugh, semi-grateful my sun-kissed cheeks camouflaged my certain blush. “Thank you. I like glazed too.”
“I knew you were smart.”
I smiled as I picked the sugar donut from the box. I took a bite and licked my fingers before setting it down on one of the napkins he handed over. “You’re staring at me. Do I have glaze on my face?”
“No, it’s just that…licking your fingers like a porn star after he shoots his load is seriously distracting,” he deadpanned.
I choked a laugh, then fixed him with a playful glare. “Gross.”
“Who me?” he chuckled, taking a brief glance around my work quarters. “How are you getting along out here in Siberia? Seems a little lonely.”
“Numbers keep me company.”
“Hmm. So, what exactly are you analyzing?” he asked.
“Algorithms and trends. I’m also doing field research in other markets to find parallels and shifts and…those kinds of things,” I finished lamely. God, I sounded like a geek.
“I see. Is any of this part of the research you were talking about at The Zebra Den?”
“Uh…no,” I admitted.
“Tell me about that other research again.”
“I can’t.” I stuffed half the donut in my face and swiveled in my seat to face the computer screen, quickly booting it to life.
Bobby J nudged my chair. When I didn’t turn, he moved to the other side of my desk and perched on the corner. “Why not?”
“Because it’s embarrassing.”
“I bought you a donut. You have to tell me.”
“You brought donuts for your band,” I corrected him.
“Nope. These were my excuse to come see you and check out your digs. And…to get to the bottom of the very unlikely coincidence that the guy who invited me home with him is now overseeing social media data for my band. How do I know if I can trust you?”
I knit my brows as I crossed my arms and glared. “What could I possibly have to gain by making a fool of myself? Your label’s data isn’t classified information. Any moron can go through it. Only a couple of morons know how to do it properly.”
“And you’re one of them?” he teased.
“Yes! I mean…I’m—you know what I mean.”
He pursed his lips as if to bite back a laugh. “I do. I’m still not sure why you didn’t tell me you were working for Scratch.”
I sighed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to make you uncomfortable or put you on the spot or—”
Bobby J nudged my chair again and shook his head. “You didn’t, and I don’t want any apologies. I prefer to think you were completely under my spell.”
He was kidding, but it was true. I was under his spell then…and now.
I bit my bottom lip and smiled as I offered him my hand. “Can we start over? I’m Cody Fletcher. I’m a data analyst. I’ll be here through August. I’m a Scorpio, a Star Trek fanatic…I particularly love Next Generation. And I’m also crazy about Tolkien’s work. All of it.”
“Lord of the Rings, especially?” he asked, wrapping his fingers around mine.
“Of course. Are you?”
“Of course,” he replied, tugging my hand gently.
His lazy grin made my stomach flip, but I didn’t falter. I held eye contact, willing myself not to stutter or look away.