You’re an absolute fool
@theanswerisno:
Love it you do
@pancakesareelite:
Maybe I do
If only I’d thought to take my hideous safety boots along, I could have explored the site. I’d been in such a panic to leave that I rushed out without them. But it was worth it. Worth the long drive. Worth the cost of the gas. Worth the way Mr. Carden’s face changed when I’d handed over those drawings. And now I needed to clean up this mess before he returned and remembered that I was the mess beyond saving.
The first email in my inbox was an apology from him, sent around the time he’d have arrived on-site. Well, if I’d seen that before I left, it would have saved me a lot of trouble.
Who am I kidding?I’d still have reprinted those drawings, and I’d still have taken them to him because I knew he needed them. He’d been under so much pressure that I worried he might crack.
I wheeled toward his empty desk and took one of the thick geometric guidelines from his stack of books. After studying it for about an hour, I tweaked the intersection design for the seven billionth time.
Quick but soft footsteps drew my attention. Mr. Carden walkedin. The frown that had lived between his brows was gone, but his shoulders were still a little tenser than usual.
“Mr. Carden.” I gestured at my laptop screen, hoping to catch him before he settled in and sent his focus elsewhere. “Do you have a moment? I think maybe this is the one.” I gave him a double thumbs-up.
One side of his mouth lifted in what seemed to be a smile. A lopsided, genuine half smile.
It was like leveling up every time I got that out of him.
“I admire your confidence,” he said, and hesitated at my desk. Without looking my way, he dropped his voice low, barely a whisper. “Lunch first. For you.”
He put a foil-wrapped square on my desk, which was exactly the size of a sandwich and smelled exactly like a sandwich, and the condensation appearing underneath it hinted at awarmsandwich, and while all the evidence pointed at “sandwich,” I couldn’t bring myself to make sense of the situation.
He tapped the mystery sandwich-shaped parcel. “Wasn’t sure if you’d eaten. I never see you eat lunch. But if you’re hungry, it’s yours. Chicken salad… which I think you like? If not, no pressure. Someone will eat it.”
My breath hitched. I didn’t know Lincoln Carden listened to me when I nervously rambled on and on. My stomach tingled and fluttered… because of hunger. Probably. Not because my handsome boss was also kind and attentive. Nope. Not that. Just excited to eat.
Before I could answer, he was already at his desk, unwrapping his own foil square.
“Thank you.” I tipped my head and took the sandwich, enjoying the way it warmed my fingertips.
I unwrapped it, already salivating. I hazarded a glance his way, but he was in his zone already. His headset fixed across his ears.
Spinning away, I bit into the warm, soft bread with crispy edges, and my tastebuds lit up. I’d never eaten a chicken salad sandwich as delicious as this one. “So freaking good,” I whispered to myself as a small moan escaped me. There was a hint of chili I wasn’t expecting.
His head snapped upward, his eyes round.
“Sorry. I thought you couldn’t hear with the…” I pointed at my ears, which were prickling and hot.
He tugged the headset off and gulped. “Haven’t turned them on yet. Sometimes I forget or I just wear them to deter interruptions.”
I slammed a hand over my heated face. “Sorry for interrupting you, then. Well, not sorry. It’s your own fault for giving me a sandwich so tasty. What did you expect?”
“Nothing less.” His gaze dipped to his computer screen, but I enjoyed the underlying playfulness in his tone.
I’d bet Lincoln Carden was a lot of fun to be around when he was in his element.
He was already kind, smart, and ridiculously good-looking. I couldn’t addfunto that. No, not fair.
Heat kept radiating through my face, my chest, and now my brain felt as though it were being flooded with inappropriate hormones.Was this a side effect of the chili?“Thank you. And it’s really good,” I rambled in an attempt to say anything except what I was thinking. “But I think I said that already. Where did you get them? Did you know they call this a chicken mayo in South Africa?”
His dark brows lifted, giving me the smallest glimpse of his soft brown eyes behind those glasses. But he rarely gave me more than a split second. He lowered his head and popped the last piece of his sandwich into his mouth. “Zoya’s. I’ll show you next time. It’s not too far away.” He crumpled the foil, squeezing it until it disappeared in the palm of his hand. “Chicken mayo, huh? I had no idea. But it makes sense.” He passed the foil ball from one hand to the otherand continued rolling it. “When you’re done eating, please print the alignment.”
