I spent hours wrapped up in Maddox’s arms while we lay in my bed, yet I don’t have his number.

  A tendril of unease unfurls in my mind, suddenly morphing into panic.

  I don’t have his number.

  I put the coffee down and pick up the first folder I can find.

  Maddox and I work together.

  He knows where I live.

  He has my phone number off my résumé.

  We won’t lose touch again.

  But…

  I spin around and stride back out of my office.

  People are starting to settle in, and about half the cubicles are full, but no one pays attention to me.

  I keep my expression relaxed as I walk past the conference room, where it all started, and to the back, where all the executive offices are.

  I’ve never been all the way back here, and as that fact sinks in, I start to slow.

  Almost all the office’s back here have their doors open and their lights on.

  I slow even more.

  Which way would Maddox be?

  Then I hear him. That deep voice I recognize from my dreams.

  Turning toward the sound, I cross to the far corner.

  As I get closer, I see his name written on the plaque attached to his door.

  Corner office. Duh.

  I can’t tell if he’s talking to a person or if he’s on his phone, but there’s really no other way to do this, so I step into his open doorway.

  The office is large. A couch with a coffee table sits on the near side of the room, a desk and two visitor’s chairs at the opposite end, and the two outer walls are nothing but glass.

  Maddox is standing behind his desk, looking handsome as always.

  The movement of my appearance catches Maddox’s attention, and he drifts his gaze past the other man standing in front of his desk to meet mine.

  This is a bad idea.

  I shouldn’t have —

  “Ah, Hannah.” Maddox holds his hand out toward me, like he’s been waiting for me to arrive.

  “Morning.” I say it to both of them, recognizing the other man as the director of sales. “I have those files you wanted to go over.” I lift the folder, as if email hasn’t been invented yet and I had to hand deliver the documents.

  “Come in,” Maddox tells me, then turns to the other man. “If you get any pushback, let me know.”

  The man nods. “Will do.” Then he smiles and steps around me, out the door.

  I want to shut the door to make our conversation private, but Maddox was just in here talking to someone with the door open, so I leave it as it is.

  He gives me a crooked smile. “Would you like to sit? I can’t remember how much time you said this would take.”

  With my back to the open door, I roll my eyes at him.

  He starts to chuckle but catches it by clearing his throat.

  Stopping in front of his desk, I pick up the fancy pen sitting next to his laptop. “I just need to point out a few things. Shouldn’t take long.”

  I open the folder I brought.

  It’s empty.

  Maddox grins. “By all means.”

  I pull the cap off the pen, then write on the inside of the blank folder.

  Please give me your phone number.

  FIFTY-SIX

  MADDOX

  My smile drops.

  I read her words a second time.

  Please give me your phone number.

  How the fuck did we let that happen again?

  I swallow and lift my gaze to hers.

  Her lips are pressed together, and I can see the stress in her features.

  I’m sure she felt this same crash of anxiety when she realized she didn’t have it.

  I don’t waste a moment pulling out my phone and sending her a text.

  I saved her information off her résumé but never shared my number back with her. Like a fucking idiot.

  There’s no answering notification or vibration, and Hannah doesn’t move, so I’m guessing she left her phone in her office.

  “You’re correct.” I strive for my usual business voice. “An oversight on my part. Good catch.”

  “Thank you.” Her posture softens, then she reaches for the pen again.

  And thank you for the coffee.

  I take the pen from her hand and pull the folder closer so I can write back.

  I accept hugs as payment.

  Hannah bites her lip as she takes the pen back.

  Put it on my tab.

  Remembering how our last hug went, I’ll definitely take her up on it.

  I close the folder and slide it back over to her. “If you need anything more on this, I’ll be out of the office tomorrow.”

  Disappointment crosses her features.

  I don’t want to make her sad, but I do like her reaction to knowing I won’t be here.

  “Appreciate the heads-up.” She picks up the empty folder and steps back from my desk.

  “Have a nice morning, Hannah.”

  “You too, Mr. Lovelace.”

  Unable to help myself, my eyes stay locked on Hannah’s ass until every glorious inch of her is out of sight.

  FIFTY-SEVEN

  HANNAH

  Back in my office, I debate for only a moment before sticking the folder into my paper shredder.

  It’s over the top, but I don’t want to leave anything for anyone to use against me.

  Not that I really think anyone would actually care if they knew Maddox and I are… whatever we are.

  As my computer wakes up, I take another sip of my coffee — not caring that it’s cooled down significantly — and pull my phone out of my purse.

  Unknown: Save this number, Little Bunny.

  There’s another text he must’ve sent after I left his office.

  Unknown: I should have given you this the day of the interview. When you hid from me before getting on the elevators.

  My mouth drops open.

  Me: You saw that?

  Unknown: You were acting like you didn’t know me. Of course I followed you.

  I bite my lip.

  Me: Following an unsuspecting girl… Really showing off those Big Bad Wolf behaviors.

  I quickly select the option to save his contact. I start to type out Maddox, then decide better of it.

  BB Wolf: Come over this weekend.

  I read the text again, and my heart rate kicks up.

  BB Wolf: Friday evening for dinner.

  BB Wolf: And Saturday morning for breakfast.

  BB Wolf: And if your family doesn’t mind, just stay all the way through to breakfast on Sunday.

  A nervous laugh bubbles out of me, and I glance out my open door to verify no one is straining their necks to look at me over the cubicle walls.

  Me: I’ll come over Friday for dinner.

  I absolutely intend to stay for breakfast on Saturday, but I’ll let him wonder about it.

  After setting my phone down, I log into my computer and open my email.

  A new email sits at the top of my inbox. From Maddox.

  I click on it, nervous that he might be sending me something inappropriate, but it’s to the whole office. Letting us know he’ll be providing lunch on Thursday. And that it’s not mandatory or formal, just giving a heads-up to those who usually bring their own lunch that they won’t need to that day.

  FIFTY-EIGHT

  MADDOX

  Texting hasn’t been enough.

  I drum my fingers against my thigh as I stand in the break room.

  I need to see her.

  Yesterday, I was across town all day, meeting with my financial adviser, and then this morning, I got pulled into a call before I even left the house, so I left late and just got here a bit ago.

  The food arrived at the same time I did, so instead of heading right to Hannah’s office like I wanted to, I followed the caterers.

  But now the food is set up. People are starting to file in, grabbing the food they want, and if I don’t sit down soon, it’s going to look weird.

  I pull my phone out of my pocket.

  Me: Get your ass to the break room.

  After hitting send, I stare at my screen until a response comes in twenty seconds later.

  Bunny: Cool your jets, Bossy. Some of us actually work around here.

  I keep my face even.

  Me: If you want to see bossy, keep defying me.

  Bunny: In that case…

  Shit.

  My jaw tightens.

  I didn’t think that threat through.

  Me: Please come sit with me. I don’t know these other people.

  “Thanks for lunch.” One of the sales guys grins as he approaches the counter where all the food is spread out.

  I slip my phone into my pocket, and as soon as I let go, it vibrates with a response.

  Fucking hell.

  “My pleasure.” It’s not a lie. But I didn’t do it for this guy. I did it for my Hannah.

  The guy makes a humming sound as he moves past me to look at the options.

  I eye the stack of sandwiches I specifically chose for Hannah. It’s dwindling. And I’m about to slap the next person that takes one.

  I start to slide my fingers into my pocket to take my phone out when the door to the break room swings open again.

  Disappointment hits me when Brandon walks in.

  But then I see her.

  My sweet Hannah girl.

  Today, she’s in fitted black pants, a white shirt, matching white sneakers, and a checkered blazer.

  God, she’s fucking adorable. Constantly wrecking me with these librarian fantasies.

  I start to rock forward, ready to walk toward her, but I stop myself at the last moment.

  If she was alone, I could maybe play it off, but that fucker Brandon has stuck himself at her side, and he’s already seen me leaving her office after the party. Not that he has any proof of wrongdoing, but he seems like the type of man-baby that would throw a fit over it. If for no other reason than he so desperately wants Hannah for himself.

  Too bad she hates him.

  I can tell.

  “Damn, these cookies look good,” the guy still making his selection says to no one in particular.

  With Hannah under surveillance, I turn and follow the sales guy, selecting the items I want for lunch. A little container of pasta salad, a sandwich, a bag of jalapeño kettle chips, one of the individually wrapped oatmeal raisin cookies, and a bottle of lemonade.

  There are several long tables, and only about half have people at them so far.

  I choose one at random and take a seat near the end.

  I need Hannah to come sit near me. So I need to leave options open.

  Two project managers, who I think arrived at the work party with Hannah, enter the room.

  They come over to my table and leave their water bottles in front of two spots at my side.

  “Hey, Mr. Maddox.” One of them greets me with a big grin.

  “Afternoon.” I nod. “And just Maddox is good.”

  She beams, and then the two of them get into the growing line for food.

  I shouldn’t be surprised when I see that Brandon went before Hannah in line.

  It’s not like I want him flirting with her, but I also don’t want anyone treating my girl like anything less than the fucking queen she is. Plus, it’s common fucking courtesy. Which Brandon clearly doesn’t possess.

  He turns to face the room, food in hand, and looks for a place to sit, purposely not looking at my table.

  Behind him, Hannah reaches for a bottle of lemonade — same as me — then steps around him.

  She doesn’t say anything to him, doesn’t ask where he wants to sit, because she didn’t come here for him.

  Her eyes meet mine, and she bites down on a smile.

  She came here for me.

  And in her eyes, I can see the same relief I feel over finally being in the same place again.

  She crosses the room, moving directly to me.

  There’s still an open spot next to me, on the other side from where those PMs put their waters, but Hannah stops directly across the table from me. Same seating arrangement from that first lunch.

  “This seat taken?” Her voice is a fucking balm to my soul.

  “It’s all yours.”

  Setting her items down, she pulls the chair out and sits down. “Thanks for lunch.”

  I look down at her selection and let the side of my mouth pull up. Ham and cheese. The whole reason I ordered food today.

  A handful of items land on the table beside Hannah as Brandon drops his food into the empty spot next to her. Another way this is just like that first lunch.

  “Brandon.” I tip my head his way. “How’s the car?”

  Something bumps into my shin under the table.

  “It’s fine,” Brandon grumbles as he takes a seat.

  I quickly shift my knees apart, then back together, trapping Hannah’s shoe between my legs.

  Brandon starts in on a tirade about how the insurance companies are taking their sweet-ass time and how he had to pay out of pocket…

  I stopped listening four seconds in.

  Hannah tries to pull her foot back, but I keep it trapped until the PMs start to head back toward our table. Then I reluctantly let her go.

  “This looks so good,” the woman sitting closest to me says as she sets her food down and takes a seat.

  Brandon had been taking a breath in his rant, so she unwittingly cut him off. Oh darn.

  The rest of the spots fill in around us, and I let myself get pulled into various conversations. But my attention is never far from Hannah.

  I’m swallowing my last bite of cookie when Brandon starts coughing.

  It doesn’t sound like he’s choking exactly, but he’s definitely having an issue.

  Hannah turns, like she might pat him on the back, and I dart my foot forward, hooking hers.

  Her eyes snap over, and I narrow mine at her.

  If she touches him, I’m going to fire him. It’s that simple.

  The woman next to me snickers. “Those chips a little spicy for you?”

  We all look down at the bag of jalapeño chips in front of Brandon.

  He shakes his head, clearing his throat. “I’m fine. Just thought they were a different flavor. Took me off guard, is all.”

  I watch Brandon’s eyes move over to my food wrappers, where I have the same bag of chips. Only mine is empty.

  He takes a drink of his Coke, then eats another chip.

  Hannah and the ladies next to me share a look, and I know we’re all thinking the same thing.

  This fool would rather choke down food that’s too spicy for him than risk looking weak. A real case of death by machismo.

  Moron.

  FIFTY-NINE

  HANNAH

  Maddox still has his foot hooked behind mine.

  I know I should move, because even though it’s unlikely for anyone to see it, it’s not impossible. One dropped napkin, and we’d be outed.

  But I’m not quite ready to lose contact yet.

  I knew I wanted to see him, but I hadn’t realized how badly until I walked through that door. So I want to savor this short time together.

  I shift my other foot closer until Maddox’s ankle is pressed between mine.

  Sitting here across the table from him, I can’t help but think of that first lunch out together.

  I’m not still upset about it. I’m just upset that I spent the time being mad and hurt when I could have just been soaking in his presence.

  “Hannah.” His deep rumble pulls my attention up.

  I hadn’t realized I’d been staring at his chest.

  I blink, and the project managers snicker next to Maddox.

  My cheeks start to heat. “Sorry, totally zoned out there for a second.”

  “It’s alright. Lunch does that to me too sometimes.” He smirks at me. “Just wondering if you’re done. I can take your trash.”

  I look at the table and see Maddox has balled up his wrappers.

  “Oh, that’s alright. I should get back to work.” I scoot my chair back and gather up my own garbage.

  Brandon is still swapping bites of chips with sips of his drink, so thankfully he doesn’t try to get up at the same time.

  I know we need to keep this thing between us a secret — so long as we work together — but I’d love to make my feelings for Maddox known, if only to get Brandon to finally back off and leave me in peace.

  “See ya,” I tell the people around me, then stand from my chair.

  Maddox uses his long strides to beat me to the waste cans, and I sort out the trash, compost, and recycling.

  I follow him at a normal distance, and Maddox opens the door to the break room and holds it for me to pass through ahead of him.

  “So, Hannah.” Maddox moves so we’re walking side by side. “Did you have a nice morning?”

  “Nothing to complain about.” I glance up at him. “How about you?”

  His brows raise. “Oh, I have plenty to complain about.”

  “That so?”

  He nods. “I had to wake up without my girl at my side.”

  I bite my lip and keep my eyes ahead of us. “Sounds hard.”

  Maddox snorts. “It was.”

  “Oh my god.” I elbow him in the side. “You’re such a frat boy.”

  “Now, now,” he fake admonishes. “Football is not a frat.”

  “Sure it’s not.” I widen my eyes.

  Maddox pulls something out of his pocket and holds it out to me.

  I can’t help the little laugh that comes out. “What is that?”

  “A cookie.” He looks down and grimaces.

  I can sort of recognize it as the ones we just had at lunch. The soft cookies were wrapped in clear plastic and were delicious, but this one is squished into the shape of a stubby taco.