“Professional, huh? Sure. I’d say we’re just two people pretending we don’t remember how we met.”
“Out, Becker.”
He steps closer. Not too close—
Just enough that I feel his heat, smell the clean scent of his skin.
His voice drops.
“That’s not something you forget, Sloane. You know it too.”
“Out.”
He smiles again, straightens, and walks to the door.
At the threshold, he pauses.
“See you tomorrow, Cupid. Have a great day.”
The door clicks shut behind him, and my office falls quiet.
I breathe.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Then I drop my forehead into my hands.
And realize two things:
One: the scent he left behind is exactly the same one I wore on my skin that night.
Two: I am seriously considering firing myself.
8
Particularly Chatty Friends
Cohen
Dad:Answer this goddamn phone. I have plans for you.
My life is a loop of terrible decisions and even worse consequences.
And the only thought bouncing around in my head since this morning is her.
Sloane Heart.
My coach’s daughter.
Fantastic. Just what I needed: an obsession with a forbidden last name.
At least now she has a name and a last name.
For the past few days, she’s been haunting my mind in the form of an Angel.
