54. Maddox

FIFTY-FOUR

I'm lingering.

I know I am, and it's starting to feel obvious, but I want to see her. And I don't want to do it by barging into her office first thing on a Monday morning.

There's no reason I can't change the company rules and lift the no-fraternizing policy, but I'm almost certain Hannah wouldn't like that. And the last thing I want to do is make her uncomfortable at work.

I add another packet of sugar to my coffee mug and stir it with the same spoon I've been using for the last ten minutes.

As certain as I am that Hannah wouldn't want to be that girl dating the boss, I'm also just as certain that she wants to date me too.

I almost snort.

Dating is such a lame word for what I want from Hannah.

I want more than the occasional dinner out and texts in the evening.

I want everything.

Lifting my mug, I lean against the counter in the break room and take a sip of my coffee while I pretend to read an email on my phone.

When I got home early yesterday morning, after spending a handful of hours sleeping in Hannah's tiny-ass bed with my body wrapped around hers, it hit me.

I don't want to wait.

I don't want to wait to tell her how much she means to me. How much she's always meant to me.

I don't want to wait years before I ask her to move in with me.

I don't want to wait at all.

We already lost so much time together. And if I think on it too much, I might just lose my mind. Or I might hire that guy Waller knows to go burn Essie's house down.

I take another sip of my coffee.

I'm not going to dwell on the past anymore.

It happened. It's over. And now—

The break room door opens, and my brown-eyed beauty walks in.

My lips curl up into a smile, but I stay exactly where I am.

Hannah is a whole new person now, just like I am. She's lived a life's worth of experiences, just like I have.

Our lives were so different.

Mine was on the road, playing ball professionally. The glamour, physical pain, money, fame. Never knowing who wants to be close to you for you or who is just inching closer to try and hitch a ride in your wagon.

Hers was here. So close to me, but completely out of reach. She lost people, gained a ward, then knit her family so closely around her she was never alone. The love in her home is palpable. And I want my house filled with that. I want to feel that warmth when I step through the front door.

"Morning." Her cheeks are already turning pink, and I hope she's thinking about my lips on hers.

"Good morning," I greet her in return.

An older guy, who I think works in billing, is sitting at one of the long tables in the room, and he lifts his eyes from his phone just long enough to say hello to Hannah.

In the week we've been in this new office space, I swear I've seen that man come in early every day just to sit in here and eat a pair of donuts. He's wearing a wedding ring, and I have to assume either his wife won't let him eat donuts at home or he doesn't like being at home.

Won't be me.

I push off the counter and take the few steps to the coffee maker.

Hannah darts a glance my way as she bends to put a container of food into the fridge.

"What'd you bring for lunch?" My tone is casual, but it still has her biting her lip.

She straightens and closes the door. "Just some leftover Chinese takeout."

I nod. "Sounds good."

She narrows her eyes the smallest amount as she comes closer to where I am. "Do you bring your own lunch? Or are you too fancy for that?"

"Fancy?" I grin. "I'm not too fancy. I'm just lazy. Which is why I spend half my paycheck on delivery fees."

She rolls her eyes at me. "Pretty sure you'd have to be ordering barrels of caviar for that to be true."

"Nah, the barrels make it taste funny."

She lets out a little laugh. "Just ham and cheese sandwiches, then."

I keep my eyes on hers, not missing the way she mentioned it so lightly. "Best tasting thing there is. With maybe one exception."

Hannah's gaze drops to my lips.

That's right, Babe. When I say taste, you look at my mouth.

Clearing my throat, I reach up and open the mug cupboard for her.

We're a clean energy company, so everything we have is reusable, and some chucklehead thought it would be great to have nothing but bright yellow dishes and mugs. Some have our logo, some are secondhand, some are handmade, but they all have yellow on them.

Hannah wiggles her fingers as she selects her mug for the day, choosing a ceramic one covered in vibrant shades of yellow that was definitely made by hand.

I'm not surprised that's the one she chose.

Donut Man is paying us no attention, so I stay where I am and watch Hannah make her coffee.

She fills her mug, leaving about an inch of space, then holds the pot up toward me. "Need a top off?"

I dip my chin and hold my MinneSolar branded mug out to her.

She looks at it, seeing that it's already full, but still tips the pot and adds a splash.

Hannah glances back at my mug as she puts the pot on the burner. "Plain black?"

I lift my coffee and smirk at her over the rim. "Four sugars."

Her brows jump up at my admission.

"Is there something wrong with that, Miss Utley?"

"Of course not, Mr. Lovelace. It's just with the whole athlete thing…" Her eyes travel down my body. Before they move back up, I pull my shoulders back just enough to make my chest look bigger. "I figured you more for a no sugar type."

"Back in my playing days, that was mostly true. But that's the nice thing about being retired. I can eat whatever I want now."

She hums and moves to the fridge to take out a short carton of half-and-half, then uses it to gesture around the room. "I'm not sure you understand what retired means."

"Yeah, well, golf was never my thing. Plus, my buddy and I have a bet going on whose company can get more awards each year."

"Awards?" Hannah removes the cap from her little carton and pours about a third of an inch worth into her mug.

"No specific award, just achievements in general. Top fifty lists, that sort of thing," I tell her, referring to my never-ending cycle of bets with Waller.

Hannah returns the carton to the fridge, then looks at the drawer I'm standing in front of.

I know what she wants, but instead of moving so she can get a clean spoon, I take the one from my mug.

Another glance shows that we're still alone with Donut Man, who is focused on his donuts, so I put the spoon in my mouth.

I close my lips around it and pull it free before I hold it out for Hannah to take.

She darts her eyes around the room, but seeing the same thing I do, she takes it and puts it into her mug.

And that's when the door to the break room opens.

Hannah shifts, like she's going to jump away from me, reminding me of after the car accident.

"Don't react." I say it so only she can hear me.

I don't know who walked in, but nothing we're doing right now is inappropriate. We might be standing a little closer than total strangers would, but I'm friendly with everyone.

I turn my head, finding Brandon walking across the room.

Okay, so maybe I'm not friendly with everyone.

"Morning." I nod to the man because I'm still civil.

He nods back, then looks at Hannah. "Morning. Did you have a good weekend?"

"Really good," she answers without hesitating.

I lift my coffee and take another drink, covering my smile.

"Uh, that's nice," Brandon replies like the dumbass he is. "Mine was good too."

Too bad no one asked you.

He goes to the fridge and takes a tall can out of the door.

I almost roll my eyes. What sort of grown-ass man has a cotton candy flavored energy drink to start his day?

"Heading out?" I hold up my arm for Hannah as though she was waiting for me to leave, and I'm insisting she goes first.

She nods. "Yeah, best get to work."

As we walk across the room, Donut Man finally stands. "Welp, if the boss is getting after it, then I should too."

I feel a slight alarm at him paying attention to what's going on around him. But something tells me that even if he knew the entirety of my history with Hannah, he still wouldn't tell anyone.