“I minored in business law.” He shrugs at my surprised expression. “Everyone assumes I’m just a pretty face and a walking disaster. Surprise!”
Two hours later, I’m forced to admit he’s actually useful. More than useful. He catches three errors I missed, asks questions that make me reconsider entire clauses, and somehow makes contract review almost…enjoyable.
“This section here,” he says, leaning over my shoulder to point at the screen. He smells like coffee and something sweet. “The liability clause is too broad. It could expose us to?—”
“I see it.” My voice comes out rougher than intended. He’s too close. I can see the faint freckles across his nose, the way his eyes crinkle.
He turns his face to me, and for a moment, everything is on pause, including my breathing and the beating of my heart, as his beautiful blue eyes narrow in on my mouth. Idraw a breath before he pulls back all of a sudden, and I’m not sure if I’m relieved or disappointed.
“Sorry. Personal space. I’m working on it.” He sits back in his chair. “Alli, my best friend, says I have the spatial awareness of a golden retriever.”
“That’s…accurate.”
He grins like I’ve paid him a compliment.
By nine p.m., the contract is finished and sent. Thatcher stretches, his shirt pulling across his chest. I absolutely do not notice the little bit that untucks from his pants, revealing a smattering of light hair.
“Same time tomorrow?” he asks, gathering his things, completely oblivious to my inner turmoil or that my eyes take the slow way up to meet his.
“Hopefully without the ants.”
“No promises. Those little guys were determined.” He pauses at the door. “You really should eat the snacks people give you, Pierce. It’s rude to let themget invaded by insects.”
“I’ll take that under advisement.”
After he leaves, I open my drawer. It’s ant-free now, but there’s a new sticky note stuck to the bottom:
I stare at the note for longer than necessary. The little ant drawing has a sad face.
Against my better judgment, I pull out my phone and text a number I shouldn’t have memorized.
Pierce:
The snacks were appreciated. The ants were not.
The response is immediate.
Thatcher:
You ATE them?? The ant cookies???
Pierce:
No. I’m speaking generally. Future snacks will be consumed promptly.
Thatcher:
This is thebest news I’ve heard all day.
Well, second best. The best was when you almost smiled at my ant drawing.
Pierce:
I didn’t smile.
Thatcher:
Your face twitched. Close enough. Goodnight, Mr. Dellcourt!
