Pretty Little Mistake

What the fuck is Lennon Wells doing here?

I’ve perfected the art of keeping my cool, of not letting my emotions show, and it serves me well here. Normally, nothing shakes me, but the last thing I expected was to walk into the office today and find that the new hire is her. Out of all the billions of people in the world, what are the fucking odds?

I let her hand go, mine dropping back to my side. I shake off the zip of energy that’s radiated up my arm, looking her up and down in the process.

She looks exactly like I’d expect.

Brown hair pulled taut in a prim bun, a pert nose that she lifts haughtily in the air like she’s unaffected by me, soft pillowy lips, and a riot of freckles.

I called her plain once. Lennon Wells is anything but, and it pisses me off.

For me, she was always utterly irresistible, but times change and now she’s nothing but a reminder, a fucking shackle to another time—a part of my life that doesn’t exist anymore.

Her eyes narrow upon me, and I wonder what she’s thinking.

Hate me, I think. You should. I want you to.

I was never supposed to see her again. Not after I went off to college. But here she is standing in front of me. Not only that, but we’re going to be working together.

Someone, somewhere, has to be laughing at my predicament.

Jaci says something, but I miss it, too lost in my own spinning thoughts. I move away from Lennon, away from the smell of her sweet perfume.

“Morning,” I say to Brendan, lifting my coffee to my mouth.

I definitely don’t take an inconspicuous look over my shoulder at the one girl in the world who’s off limits—or supposed to be.

I touched her once, tasted the forbidden fruit. I won’t make that mistake again, despite how tempting it might be. I’m older, mentally stronger, and hopefully a bit wiser. The likes of me don’t belong with women like her.

I might be a Sullivan, but it’s in name only.

“Yeah, good morning,” Brendan replies, flipping through a stack of papers. “Where’s my coffee?”

“I’m not your errand boy anymore,” I rib him.

Brendan’s not so bad, and possibly one of the only real friends I have. I’m not good at letting people in. I’ve always been guarded; I guess being in foster care for so many years is a major contributing factor in that. Keeping people at arm’s length is easier. If you don’t let them in, then they can’t hurt you.

“You’re late again. You’re lucky Jaci is so lenient.”

I shrug, looking down at the old wood floors. The narrow planks gleam with whatever cleaner was used to shine them overnight. “I had something to take care of.”

Before he can respond, I take my seat, setting my messenger bag on top of the table. Everyone slowly takes their own seats. When I search for Lennon, I find her at the end, speaking with another writer, Ethan. My jaw grinds at the sight of the two of them, her smiling at him. When he touches her arm, I fix my gaze back on Brendan.

After he’s gone over the day’s assignments and dismissed everyone, I head back to my private office. Only a few of us have them, and I’m grateful for my personal space. I’m not a team player, even though that’s what Jaci likes, but luckily for me she tolerates my bullshit since I’m her best photographer. And I’m not just saying that. I’m good, and I’m not in the habit of not acknowledging my own talent. After all, it’s something that’s entirely mine. A name can’t give you talent; you either have it or you don’t.

I pull up the photos I need to have edited by the end of the day.

The fingers of my right hand still feel electrified by Lennon’s touch, and that pisses me off the longer I sit there in the confines of my office.

I’ve gotten only about an hour of work done when I decide it makes sense to take a break and grab a drink.

Scanning the open office space, I quickly zero in on Lennon seated at a pink desktop. I hate how fast I find her, how I’ve always been able to sense her, even in a roomful of people.

Brendan is beside her, pointing out something on the desktop. I can’t hear what he’s saying, but it’s not important anyway.

As I grab a bottle of water, a prickling awareness has my shoulders clenching.

One more look won’t hurt.

Doe-brown eyes collide with mine. I narrow my gaze, daring her to look away first. She raises one brow.

A challenge.

Oh, Lennon, you don’t want to do that.

I love a challenge. I always win.