“Great. I got plans settled with engineering about our rocket building, and I nailed down the supplies I need to pick up tomorrow.”
“Awesome. Sorry I was in interviews all day, but I should be free the rest of the week.”
We reach the misshapen bumper of my car, and Rachel winces when she sees it. “Shit. What happened?”
I shove my hands in my pocket and survey the damage. “Fender bender on the way to work this morning,” I grumble.
Honestly, it doesn’t look as bad as I thought. In my frustration this morning, it seemed terrible, but in the dim evening light, it’s not too severe. Millie emailed her insurance information to me this afternoon, but I haven’t decided whether I’ll do anything with it yet.
“What a way to start your day,” Rachel says, backing away toward her own car.
“Yep,” I mutter, turning to unlock my door.
As I drop into my seat and start the car, a small grin forms on my lips at the memory of Millie’s bright pink cheeks this morning. And the way her green eyes turned fiery when she sassed me about watching her walk into work.
Then,fuck me, my next memory is dangerous. The perfect view of her curves in that tight black skirt as she bent over to check the bumper flashes through my mind.
I bite the inside of my cheek to stifle the image.
She is my colleague. I’m on her hiring committee, for crying out loud. I need to be completely professional. Not checking out her ass in the parking lot.
On my drive home, a sign for Maggie’s Bakery snags my eye, and I remember Millie’s coffee cup from yesterday. I’ve never been there, but if her emotional reaction to spilling it a few days ago was any indication, it must be some good coffee.
Maybe I should try it tomorrow morning. Just to see if it’s worth her dramatics.
Chapter 5
Millie
The cushions dip beneath me as Pepper, my spoiled rescue pup, hops up next to where I’m sprawled out on the couch. She plops down beside my head, scooting her white muzzle into my neck until I give in and pet her.
I’ve been in this exact position since I got home from work this afternoon. Laid out on the couch, attempting to decompress after the highs and lows of my jumbled emotions today.
The interview went okay, I think, other than the constant distraction of Finn in the room. I put dedicated effort into not looking his way, but I could feel his gaze on me like a hot poker, searing into my skin.
They had a few tricky questions, but I feel good about how my answers sounded. I shoved my swirling anxiety aside enough to at leastsoundlike I had the confidence to be the head of the department.
A set of keys jangles outside the front door before Lena pushes it open. She kicks it shut behind her and drops her bags to the floor with a loudthump.
“What are we having for dinner? I’m so close to hangry I could just eat a fork,” she says with a groan.
I met Lena in college, at a coffee shop where I’d gone to studyfor my Shakespearean literature final, not knowing they were hosting an open mic night. The urge to study disappeared when I ended up completely distracted by my future best friend’s performance. Lena’s dark curls and smoky eyes were stunning under the dim spotlight as she spent five minutes reciting a ghost story she’d memorized, with character voices and enthusiastic movements. She jumped across the stage and threw her body on the ground in a death scene at the end that had everyone riveted.
After she stood from her fake death and bowed, she walked right over to the table where I sat alone with my notebook and laptop and dropped into the empty chair.
We’ve been best friends ever since.
“Want to relax, order takeout, and watchGilmore Girls?” I ask, without moving an inch from my position.
She pulls off her black shirt, leaving her standing in the living room in a sparkly red bra and leggings. “Fuck yes. Those kids took it out of me today. My feet are sore, and I want to live in pajamas forever.”
Lena is an elementary school art teacher during the school year and leads art classes at the Wilhelmina Community Center during the summer.
Tilting my head, I narrow my eyes in suspicion at her bra. “Weird choice for work.”
She shrugs. “It was my only clean option. But now it’s time to get out of it. Freedom is so close.” She struts past me toward her bedroom door.
“Free the tits,” I call, fist in the air.
