My dad entrusted him to me as a personal favor.
Orange is not my color.
I enter the office and close the door with a sharp slam.
The office is thankfully empty… Lila must be running the errands I assigned her.
I breathe, trying to reconnect with my inner mantra: control, elegance, professionalism.
Except my mind keeps replaying the scene from earlier.
His large hands.
The way he looked at me while I tried to teach him how to breathe.
(Which, judging by that T-shirt plastered to his chest, he wasn’t doing at all.)
And then… his voice.
Low. Husky. Irritating in a way that the dictionary hasn’t defined yet.
I collapse into my chair.
My reflection in the Mac screen has the same expression as someone who just crossed hell with… a damned sexy Lucifer.
Fantastic.
I try to work, but my attention lasts five seconds flat.
I open the “Love at First Leaf” program, try to focus on a new couple, but all I read is:
Name: Cohen Becker
Goal: destroy my sanity
Obviously, none of that is actually written on the program.
My phone vibrates.
A text.
Of course, it’s him.
Cohen-pain-in-my-ass:Did you recover from the lesson?
Me??: I’ve already erased it from my memory.
Cohen-pain-in-my-ass:Weird. I haven’t.
Me??: Need a refresher on how stretching works?
Cohen-pain-in-my-ass:No, but if you want to show me that bridge pose again… I might pretend not to remember. ??
