Kelly

THE TIME I SPEND IN THE OFFICE is irregular. Some weeks I'm there more than others. When we're deep into a project, I'm usually onsite, my time spent working on the house. The start of projects and the wrapping them up at the end yield more free time, and I find myself in the office more.

As far as offices go, it's not bad. It's a single expansive room, every square inch organized in a practical, functioning way. A space for the team members to work efficiently and collaboratively. There's not a desk to be found; instead, there are large tables that are often rearranged depending on the current jobs. Sometimes the tables are pushed together to create one large workspace; sometimes they're shoved apart, branching off into individual tasks.

The team is small with only 9 of us, and today only about half are in the office this morning. They sit lazily around one of the smaller tables, coffee and various breakfast snacks in front of them as they slowly start their day. Their chitchat gradually switches from social niceties to the impending work.

I fill my mug with coffee, the steam billowing out, as I cross to the table and squeeze between Archie and Sarah and steal a glazed donut out of the box.

"What you got going on today, boss?" Sarah asks as I tear into the donut.

I lick the leftover glaze crumbles off my lips before I answer. "Not sure yet. Just wanted to touch base here first."

I look around the table at the team I handpicked, each one selected for a specific role, but I also made sure they were able to diversify and wear many other hats since I prefer a small group.

Take Archie, for example. His official job is a CPA, but he's invaluable in many other areas. At his interview he showed up with two manila folders. One with a resume and references with his CPA experience, all excellent and came highly recommended. The other envelope, however, is what secured his job. It was full of print-offs of houses in the area and detailed plans on how to flip the houses, starting with an outline on the money involved and possible contractors to hire and the best design elements to use.

The man's brain is an interesting place. The way he sees numbers and his ability to approach each flip from a profitable business mindset has been invaluable. Plus, the dude is an enigma. His dorky facade is a disguise for the witty goof hiding within. He has the uncanny ability to deliver a one liner with such brilliant timing that oftentimes it isn't until you see the telltale sign of his shoulders shaking in silent amusement that the zinger lands, the delayed reactions more often than not ending in snickers behind hands or fits of giggles.

I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. Setting the coffee cup on the table, I pull out my phone to see a text from Vivi. I suppress a sigh. It feels like this text was inevitable. It isn't until this moment that I realize I subconsciously didn't plan my day yet with the idea I'd probably be making a trip to Maybury at some point.

After stuffing the donut into my mouth, I grab my coffee and retreat to an empty table across the room. Setting down the mug, I remove the donut from my mouth, tearing off another large piece first. I sink into a chair, take a sip of coffee and open the message.

VIVI: Sutton just left for a doctor's appointment. A regular diabetes checkup.

VIVI: I know it's a real appointment, but it's in Maybury.

The texts are short and succinct, and it feels like a kid tattling on his classmate to the principal. It doesn't sit well in my gut. Remembering the tone of Sutton's texts last night, I know she's frustrated, and probably pissed, that everyone keeps telling her what to do regarding her mom's affair. I debate dropping it, letting Sutton make her own choices, but the overwhelming urge to protect her that feels second-nature by now when it comes to this girl is louder in my head.

ME: And you think she's going to do something stupid while she's in Maybury?

VIVI: Most likely.

Shit. I take a big drink of my lukewarm coffee before rising to my feet. "Looks like I'm taking a trip to Maybury today," I say to the room. I shove the rest of the donut in my mouth, licking the sticky residue off my fingers as I cross the office and exit the building.

-

IT'S LATE MORNING BY THE TIME I park my truck as close to the law offices as I can, and the day has that charged feel to it as the energy prepares to settle into the afternoon. People breeze by me on the sidewalk, and I'm distinctly aware of the difference of Maybury during a weekday versus the casual, unrushed vibe of a weekend.

As I round the corner, I see a flash of familiar white-blonde hair rushing out of the glass doors of the red brick building. I hurry my steps to a near run to catch up to Sutton's retreating body. I'm a few feet away when she suddenly halts and spins around, her frantic eyes searching the street and her hand absently digging in her purse as if she's simultaneously looking for her car and keys. I step in front of her, and I lightly grip her upper arms.

"Hey," I say softly, ducking my head so we're eye level. When she turns her face to me, my eyes widen at the sight. She's visibly upset, her eyes rimmed in red and filled with moisture, the unshed tears threatening to spill. "What's wrong, baby girl? What happened?"

She glances away, taking a step back, and shakes her head. "You can get ready to gloat, Kelly, because you were right. It was a stupid idea."

Ignoring her comment, I grasp her wrist lightly, trying to bring her attention back to me. "What happened?" I ask again.

She still refuses to look at me, and when she raises a hand to swipe at the tears on her cheek, I turn her head, swiping my thumbs across the moisture on her flushed skin. "Sutton," I say on an exhale, trying to steady my reaction to her tears, "tell me what's going on."

With a shake of her head, she dismisses me. "It doesn't matter."

"It does matter," I say, my voice gruffer than I intended. I attempt to soften my tone when I say, "It does matter if he was mean to you or if he did or said something to upset you."

She opens her mouth to say something, but the words die as her body tenses and she curses under her breath, bowing her head and allowing her hair to fall forward to conceal her. She wasn't fast enough to hide her wide eyes from me, though.

When I peer to my left in the direction her eyes were seconds ago, I see a man dressed in a suit walking out of the office building. He's heading toward us, but his attention is on the phone in his hand. Before he has a chance to look up and set his eyes on my girl, I react without thought. I take the small step separating us, clutch a hand at the nape of her neck under her hair, tilt her head back with my thumb under her chin and then lower it to rub over the pulse point on her neck, peering into her glistening turquoise eyes as I dust my lips over hers.

All this happens in slow motion as I simultaneously spin her around so my body is blocking her from the approaching lawyer. The moment our lips touch, speed resumes its normal pace and I press her body closer to mine with a hand at the small of her back, dipping it low to rest just above her ass.

My lips grow more demanding the longer they are in contact with hers, and I lick across seam of her mouth. She lets me in on a gasp, but I don't allow her time to catch up before my tongue is swirling with hers in slow, eager strokes. The kiss goes from zero to 60 before I have a chance to cling onto any of the thoughts screaming in my head as glaring warning bells. Ignoring all sense, my hand strokes her neck, sliding up until my thumb nudges her chin up higher, giving me better access to deepen the kiss.

She moans quietly, the sound sweeping through my body, instantly creating mass confusion. The fact that my body is reacting one way and my brain another gives me enough pause to pull back. Her body involuntarily follows mine as I pull away, taking her a few delayed seconds to respond.

She blinks a few times, her hands fisting in my shirt at my stomach. She releases the material, clenching and unclenching her hands a few times in confusion. Finally, she looks up at me, the only trace of her earlier distress is the smeared mascara in the corner of her left eye. I absently run my thumb over it, erasing all visible signs of her tears.

"What was that?" she asks, breathless, tracing her fingertips over her lips.

It's then that it suddenly dawns on me that everything happened so fast that I didn't have time to warn her of my plan. I saw the lawyer coming and all I wanted to do was hide her, protect her. I gave no real thought to my actions outside of that.

A grin ghosts across my lips without my permission as a realization hits me. She thought the kiss was real. I mean, fuck, it definitely was real. If it weren't for my damn conscience, I'd be going in for seconds. Her reaction, though...? Yeah, she was into it. Definitely into it as much as me. Hiding the smirk that threatens to escape, I clear my throat.

"I saw how you reacted to Dickface," I attempt to explain, backtrack what just happened, "and I just wanted to protect you. I didn't like seeing you upset and scared. I just wanted to hide you from him."

"Oh," she says, looking away, as if searching for the laywer. But when she refuses to meet my gaze, I suspect she's embarrassed or confused or, fuck, maybe mad.

"Hey," I say, tilting her chin up, forcing her eyes on me. "You ok? Do you want to punch me? Was I out of line?"

Shrugging, she pretends to think, and I see the moment her armor clicks into place. I suppress the urge to groan, not wanting to play along in this game anymore, but I inhale a lungful of stale air instead, preparing myself to switch into the ambivalence I know is safer around her.

"More like thank you," she finally retorts with a smirk. "I always wondered what it'd be like to kiss my childhood crush. Now I know. Not impressed. Now I can move on. So thank you, Kelly."

"Hold on," I say, genuinely confused. "Lots to unpack here. You had a crush on me?"

"Shut up. Like you didn't know." She rolls her eyes at me.

"I really didn't, baby girl," I admit, eyeing her to gauge for her sincerity. "We can come back to that later, though. What's this part about not being impressed? Because judging by the way you were kissing me, I feel like that's a lie."

Her eyes widen just the slightest and I would have probably missed it if I weren't so focused on studying her every move. "Nope. No lie," she says with a feigned nonchalance. "Been there. Done that. Don't need the t-shirt."

"Bullshit, Sutton."

I glare down at her as I flip my hat backwards on my head. The brim was in the way last time and I want unobstructed access to Sutton this time.

I cup her soft face with my large hands, my thumbs rubbing along her jawline with the tips of my fingers buried in the silky hair at nape of her neck. In response, she grips both her hands on my forearms, trying to tug my hands off her neck, but I refuse to budge. If she's going to pretend that kiss was nothing, then I'll have to prove her wrong.

Tightening my grip on her neck, I press our bodies together as I lower my mouth down to hers. This kiss bypasses straight past the slow beginning of the first and right to the juicy middle, my tongue demanding entrance into her mouth. Her shriek is muffled against my mouth, her only sign of restraint before she stands on her tiptoes and wraps her arms around my neck, giving in fully.

The feel of her warm tongue against mine sends an unvoluntary shiver down my body, and my grip on her neck tightens before I release it, allowing my hands to roam down the length of her body, settling my hands on her hips. I long to feel all her curves, but I force myself to behave, focusing on the eager way she nips at my lips.

When she falls back onto the balls of her feet, I follow her, not ready to break the connection just yet. With my hand on the small of her back, I hold her to me, my mouth wandering across her jawline and passing lightly over her neck.

We're both breathing hard when we finally break away. We stand facing each other, barely an inch between our bodies, yet we've removed our hands from each other, and they lay at our sides—mine clenched into tight fists, hers fingers fluttering against her outer thighs.

The tension is thick, and I rush to diffuse it with our usual banter. "Now let's talk about the childhood crush," I say with a forced lightness, a grin slowly cracking my lips, "because we've obviously established you like kissing me."

She punches my stomach, rolling her eyes, but without her usual bravado. "Whatever, jerk. I have heatstroke. My defenses are weak. I can't be trusted."

I shove my hands deep into my pockets to avoid touching her again. Even if every single part of me wants more, I know it can't happen. The worst part is now that I know what it's like to have even a little bit of her, it's going to be even fucking harder to convince myself that I can't have her. Because, fuck, do I want her. I want her so fucking bad.

Fuck. I shouldn't have done that. I really shouldn't have kissed her. Twice.

I'm so fucked. So fucking fucked.