“Cool. Thanks.” I toss my press pass around my neck and head off for the escalator.
I don’t know what her problem was, but that was fucking rude. Though the folks who work the desk aren’t my concern right now. My first concern is Hudson, and then the HR department.
Priorities, and all.
With every step, my heart feels like it’s going to leap out of my chest.
“Do you have plans? Do you want to go out later? Got any recommendations for a good pizza place?” I mull over the best way to ask him to hang out, because I don’t want it to sound like I’m asking himoutout.
But I also don’t want to sound too nonchalant, either.
Fuck, why is this so difficult?
Maybe it’s not too late to turn around and abort this entire mission…
Except then Chloe would have busted her ass for nothing, and I could lose a commission.
Fucking hell.
I shove the nerves aside as best I can as I reach concessions and make a right. The club entrance is huge and can’t be missed, but the hallway next to it is another story. I almost walk past it entirely.
I stop for a moment, my heart in my damn throat.
“Here goes nothing,” I say as I head down the hall. There are rooms on both sides and it branches out into a bigger room with more doors.
I scan the names on the outside. A couple doors are open with guys in suits working their desks, probably browsing through dumb emails. I note the names on the door. One of them says Karson Thompson withVice President of Analyticsbeneath it... I note it’s catty-corner from Hudson’s office. The sign behind me lists two names for theHuman Resources Department.M. Lowry and E. Stanley.
Lucky me. Two birds, one stone.
I pause at Hudson’s closed door, and let out my breath as I knock. Once.
No answer.
I try again. Two knocks.
Maybe he’s out to a late lunch or something.
I figure I’ll try once more, and if he doesn’t answer, I’ll stop by HR and take care of the samples and ask them when he should be back. I have enough swag in my backpack, I can piss around for a bit if I need to wait.
And I will wait, because fuck, if I don’t…
I will regret it. I know I will.
I knock three times, and the door flies open.
“I told you, I—”
His eyes widen like he’s seen a ghost. His shoulders hunch and his jaw tightens and I swear he looks like a statue. Still, he looks good. His blondish-brown hair is a bit messy, but the navy blue polo he’s wearing showcases his biceps with how tight it is. My gaze travels over him, taking in the sight. The dark blue color against his fair skin, the way his khakis tighten at his thighs, and the way his belt is squeezing his thick waist. His cologne hits me hard and I breathe it in without trying, the familiar scent of rainwater invading my damn lungs.
It’s been months, but somehow I swear he’s hotter than I remember.
Fuck.
I feel my dick stiffen, and I clear my throat.
“Hey,” I say with a smirk as my gaze finds his amber eyes.
“Trey?” He blinks, the surprise evident on his face. “What the hell are you doing here?”
