I have now spilled coffee on him, smashed his nose, and justliterallyrun into him with a moving vehicle.
Those lasers might be deserved.
Finn plants his feet on the concrete at the front corner of my car and crosses his arms over his chest. He waits silently, nostrils flaring with every breath.
I lift myself the rest of the way up, and his eyes land on my face. His features don’t shift at all, giving me no inkling of whether he knew who was in this car. Gripping my phone between my shaking fingers, I push open my door, get out, and snap it shut with my hip.
Smoothing out my black pencil skirt, I walk unsteadily on my heels to meet Finn at the front of my car. His violent-thunderstorm eyes are raging as they scan my face, shoulders, and quickly down my body before they pop back up.
My stomach curls into knots as I reach him. “I’m so sorry. I was talking to my parents. They were wishing me good luck on my interview this morning. But I dropped my phone accidentally.” My flustered babbling hasn’t changed his expression inthe slightest. “I heard the screen break.” I show him the crack running through the middle of my phone. “But when I looked down to grab it, I guess I bumped into your car.”
“You guess?” he rumbles, raising an eyebrow. “I’d say you definitely did.”
I expel a long breath as I flick my eyes toward his car and take in the deep indentation with a dark scratch across it.
“Maybe you should go back to walking to work. You appear to be out of practice with driving.” His lips lift in a minuscule smirk, and he seems to bite the inside of his cheek to stop it.
Heat spreads through my veins as I straighten my spine. “Now who’s watching who arrive at work in the morning?” My hip pops to the side as I cross my arms over my chest. “And these heels would be miserable to walk to work in.”
Finn’s assessing gaze trails down my skirt and bare calves until he reaches my royal purple heels. His throat works on a swallow before he murmurs, “Impractical.”
I don’t bother to respond as I step around him, walking between our cars to investigate the damage. Hiking up my skirt, I bend to run my fingers over Finn’s smashed bumper.
Well, shit.I don’t know much about car bumper repairs, but I’m guessing that’ll be an expensive fix.
Finn lets out a loud, exasperated breath behind me. I stand and face his hard scowl and dark eyes.
“I’m so sorry. I’ll pay for the damages,” I mumble.
His eyes narrow. “Instead of just paying for a new phone screen, you’ve put yourself in a position to pay for two ruined bumpers as well.”
“It’s called a mistake,” I sass, dropping my hands to my hips. “We lowly peasants make them sometimes.” I point my chin to an empty spot beside us. “If you’ll let me park right there—”
“That happens to be the space I was pulling into.” Finn tightens his arms over his black tie with tiny astronauts, pulling his shirt’s midnight fabric taut across his shoulders.
“Okay,” I huff. “I will go find a different spot, and then we can exchange insurance information.”
Finn grumbles something under his breath as he looks down at his watch. His eye twitches before he says, “I don’t have time for that this morning. You’ll have to find me later.”
Then he turns on his heel and prowls back to his open car door.
***
The marble floor sparkles as I hustle through the museum toward my interview. My momentum is creating a breeze that I’m hoping will cool the sweat coating my skin.
I’ve been a wreck since my literal wreck twenty minutes ago. I didn’t have a spare moment to process my thoughts before the interview because the event in the parking lot has shoved itself to the forefront of my mind.
Why didn’t I just let the phone crumble to bits?
It would’ve been better than feeling flustered and frazzled. No one wants to walk into a job interview like this, least of all a woman in a scientific field dominated by men, where I’m already analyzed on a different level.
I was the only woman in the entomology department at my university, so I constantly struggled with being dismissed as a scientist. One college professor presented a stag beetle to our class and announced, “I’m sure Millie won’t want to hold this one, but I know the rest of you will.”
Condescending jerk.
Like my gender meant I couldn’t handle touching an insect. In an act of feminist defiance, I started a stag beetle habitat in my dorm room that weekend.
Until I got caught by the resident assistant and had to donate them to the same professor who embarrassed me. At least I got the satisfaction of one biting him on the way into its enclosure.
