23. Hannah

TWENTY-THREE

It's been weird spending the week adjusting to my new office while also spending every night applying for new jobs.

But it's for the best. A must.

Even if I don't see Maddox every day, the stress of it all has me constantly on edge.

Is today the day he'll just walk into my office again?

Will he be in the break room when I go get my lunch out of the fridge?

Is he going to be inside the elevator when the doors slide open?

It's seriously too much. I've started keeping TUMS at my desk because I swear I'm going to start having indigestion.

I glance at the clock and see it's already a few minutes after five.

One person, then two, then another one, walk past my door.

With my projects for the week complete and nothing left to do to delay, I shake a few orange Tic Tacs into my palm. And when I put them in my mouth, I don't think at all about my kiss with Maddox. He won't ruin these like he's ruined everything else.

It's been exactly one week since I tucked and rolled out of Maddox's car, and since then, I've seen him twice. The first time was from across the break room when he walked in to get coffee as I was putting my lunch in the fridge. Thankfully, another employee was standing by the mugs, and he greeted Maddox, giving me the distraction to slip out. The second time was when I was walking to the ladies' room. Maddox was coming from a different direction, possibly going to the men's room, which was located next to my destination. I lengthened my stride to beat him there and then spent longer than necessary sitting in one of the stalls to ensure we wouldn't exit at the same time.

I can't live like this.

I follow up my Tic Tacs with a TUMS.

Another cluster of coworkers walks past, and I know I can't delay anymore.

Standing, I straighten my skirt.

No one said we had to dress up for the party, but I decided to wear my favorite pleated skirt. It's olive green and stops just past my knees, but it has a slit up one side to about midthigh. So it's still work appropriate but isn't too matronly.

And if I wore my best bra and my scoop-neck off-white short-sleeved shirt with it, it's just because they pair well.

Same for shoes. The wedge heel might be a bit high, but the faux leather matches my shirt perfectly. So it's not trying too hard; it's just coordinating.

But by the time I step through my door, my pinched toes remind me why I don't wear these shoes to work.

"Hey, Hannah."

I lift my hand and join the two project managers heading toward the elevators.

"Ready to party?" the other one jokes.

"Super ready." I let them hear the lie. "But then it's sweatpants and my couch for the rest of the weekend."

She laughs. "Right?"

The first woman steps ahead of us to press the call button. "Usually, I hate company parties, but I've met some of the MinneSolar employees this week, so I'm actually excited for this one."

"You can pretend that's why, but I know you just want an excuse to stare at Mad Dog Maddox," the second project manager jokes.

"Sue me." The first snickers. "And don't pretend you won't be looking too."

"True."

"But the whole ride thing is pretty cool too," the first continues.

The doors slide open, and we all step into the elevator.

I know these ladies because we've worked together for a few years, but I don't know them, know them. So I'm a little surprised to hear them talking about the owner like this. But then again, Maddox is hot as hell. So maybe I shouldn't be surprised at all.

"Wait, Hannah, weren't you in the car when it happened?"

"Um, sorry." I give her an awkward smile. "What were you saying?"

"Friday brain. You need this party as much as we do." She grins. "I was saying how Maddox probably did the whole ride thing because of that accident last week. And I just remembered hearing you were in the car too."

"Yeah, I was." I keep my tone light. "I heard Brandon already got his car fixed. Or is getting it fixed. Something like that."

She rolls her eyes. "I've avoided the lunchroom all week so I wouldn't have to listen to him talk about it."

I snort a laugh before I can stop myself.

When she lifts a brow at me, I lift a shoulder. "I had the same idea."

"I knew I liked you."

The cab slows, and the doors open on the top floor of the building.

The woman closest to me lets out a whistle. "First stop, the bar."

Agreeing with the plan, I follow them across the large room.

I've never been up here, but I knew it was an event space of some sort.

There are tracks on the ceiling for movable walls, telling me people use this for conferences and meetings, not just parties. But tonight, it's a party.

Music is playing, and the lights are dimmed, even though the sun is still up, shining through the tinted windows that line every wall.

The bar is straight ahead, with food tables on either side of the room. And a combination of low- and high-top tables are scattered throughout the space. Servers are walking around clearing dishes.

One of the project managers lifts her hand and points to the far corner with a laugh.

Looking, I feel my brows raise.

It looks like a box for a Barbie doll, only it's big enough for multiple people to stand inside of and yellow, with one side open and the front made of something clear.

We've come to a stop in line for the bar, so I angle myself toward the box thing.

It's some sort of photo booth, only there's an actual photographer set up in front of it, and written in large letters across the clear material are the words MinneSolar and MVP and Dream Team.

When two people step inside the box, the imagery comes together.

It looks like a magazine cover.

"Clever, isn't it?" Maddox's voice sounds from behind me.

I nod, not wanting to talk to him, and thankfully, the two project managers jump into conversation with him about where he got it made.

"Hey, thanks for the car service." One of the ladies beams at Maddox. "It's a great idea."

I glance up to see him dip his chin. "You're welcome. I've used them in the past, and it's worked out well. What's the point in having an open bar if no one can drink?"

"Hear! Hear!" Someone raises their beer as they walk past us.

A few days ago, we all got an email with a sign-up sheet for free rides to and from work for anyone who wanted to have a drink tonight, and twenty dollars for anyone not drinking who preferred to drive themselves to and from the office. I don't plan on getting drunk, but a few free drinks on Maddox's dime was too tempting to turn down.

We shuffle ahead, and the ladies turn around to place their orders with the bartender.

"What's your poison?" With the other women's attentions occupied, I know Maddox is asking me.

"I usually end up with wine." I try to keep my tone casual, as though the last time I saw him, he wasn't kissing my damn face off. "You?"

"Wine is good." There's a gleam in his eye I don't know what to do with. "I'm partial to whiskey though."

The women ahead of me move to the side, and it's my turn to order.

The counter behind the bar is lined with liquor bottles, cans of beer, and a trio of wine bottles, displaying the options. I can't read the label on the wine bottles from here, so I just ask for a glass of white.

"And for you, sir?" the bartender asks, causing Maddox to step up next to me.

"A glass of Perro Rabioso on the rocks, please."

The bartender grins. "Makes sense."

I watch him pour my glass first— into a real wine glass— then he picks up a bottle of brown liquid with an angry-looking dog on the front.

And then it hits me.

"That's yours, isn't it?" I tip my head to look at Maddox.

The side of his mouth pulls up as he takes both drinks from the bartender and holds the wine out for me. "Yeah, it's mine."

I wrap my fingers around the stem, and he gently clinks our glasses together.

I don't have a response for him, so I lift my glass and take a sip.

"Good?" he asks.

I take another sip. "It's alright."

It's divine.

Maddox chuckles, but thankfully, someone steps up in line behind us and says his name.

Using the chance, I slip away.

Two and a half glasses of wine later, I know I need to stop.

I need to stop because it's getting harder to stay steady in these shoes, and it's getting harder to draw my eyes away from Maddox.

Even now, as I stand here with Roberts, my colleague in accounting who goes by his last name, and his wife, whom I've just met, I can't stop looking over at the photo booth.

Maddox is in there, taking photos with what has to be half of the employees— in groups and individually. And no one should look that good standing inside a plastic box.

Roberts turns his head to see where I'm looking. "Have you taken a picture yet?"

I shake my head. "No, it's not—" really my thing is what I want to say, but Roberts cuts me off excitedly.

"Oh look, they're done!" He waves for me to join him with the hand not holding his beer. "Come on."

I don't want to, but I go along with him because he's too nice of a guy to disappoint. Plus, if I'm lucky, maybe Maddox will walk away before we get there.

"Hey, Boss Man!" Roberts calls out when Maddox steps out of the booth thing with the rest of the group. "Can we grab a photo too?"

Heat rushes across my already rosy cheeks.

Maddox smiles. "Anything for the people in charge of the money."

Roberts laughs while I slow my steps. "You two go ahead. I'm going to set my glass down."

I make a move to veer off, hoping to slip away, but Mrs. Roberts is right behind me, apparently not wanting to miss the action.

"I'll take your glass, dear."

"Oh, um, okay." I reluctantly hand it to her. So much for an escape.

Maddox holds his arm out for us to enter.

I go first, hoping to put Roberts between me and Maddox.

"Go between us," Roberts tells Maddox, and suddenly, I'm not so sure I like him.

The three of us standing shoulder to shoulder take up the width of the clear front panel, and I do my best to stand in a way that won't look completely stupid.

The photographer is set up a dozen steps in front of the box, and she holds up her hand, signaling us to smile, then takes a photo.

"Let's do the Mad Dog pose!" my new enemy suggests.

I lean forward to look around Maddox's big frame. "Us?"

Roberts grins as he nods. "You know, the way he always poses for photos." He crosses his arms and puffs out his chest.

"Always appreciate a fan," Maddox says as he takes the same pose.

I let out a sigh. Then, with no good reason not to, I straighten, cross my arms, and glare at the camera.

"Shoulders back, Utley." Maddox's voice is loud inside the photo box.

"This is stupid, Lovelace," I mutter.

Maddox lets out a loud bark of laughter, making me jump just as the photographer takes another picture.

Oh boy, that'll be a good one.

I'm about to drop my arms when Mrs. Roberts steps in front of the box. "Over here!" She waves her entire arm like we might miss her.

"That's the wife," Roberts explains. "I'll introduce you in a moment."

Maddox grunts, and we all stay in our Angry Mutt pose while Roberts's wife takes a photo with her phone.

She holds up a finger. "One more, but fun."

"Fun?" I repeat, like I'm unfamiliar with the word.

Roberts calls something out to his wife, but I miss it because Maddox has leaned toward me. "Fun, Babe. Still remember how to have it?"

My mouth drops open.

This prick.

Maddox spreads his arms and rests one on my shoulder and the other across Roberts's. Doing it to both of us makes it seem innocent. Humorous. The giant man between the normal-sized mortals.

And if I let myself relax against him.

If I lean into his side.

If I tip my head toward him… If I smile.

It's just for show.