58. Maddox

FIFTY-EIGHT

Texting hasn't been enough.

I drum my fingers against my thigh as I stand in the break room.

I need to see her.

Yesterday, I was across town all day, meeting with my financial adviser, and then this morning, I got pulled into a call before I even left the house, so I left late and just got here a bit ago.

The food arrived at the same time I did, so instead of heading right to Hannah's office like I wanted to, I followed the caterers.

But now the food is set up. People are starting to file in, grabbing the food they want, and if I don't sit down soon, it's going to look weird.

I pull my phone out of my pocket.

Me: Get your ass to the break room.

After hitting send, I stare at my screen until a response comes in twenty seconds later.

Bunny: Cool your jets, Bossy. Some of us actually work around here.

I keep my face even.

Me: If you want to see bossy, keep defying me.

Bunny: In that case…

Shit.

My jaw tightens.

I didn't think that threat through.

Me: Please come sit with me. I don't know these other people.

"Thanks for lunch." One of the sales guys grins as he approaches the counter where all the food is spread out.

I slip my phone into my pocket, and as soon as I let go, it vibrates with a response.

Fucking hell.

"My pleasure." It's not a lie. But I didn't do it for this guy. I did it for my Hannah.

The guy makes a humming sound as he moves past me to look at the options.

I eye the stack of sandwiches I specifically chose for Hannah. It's dwindling. And I'm about to slap the next person that takes one.

I start to slide my fingers into my pocket to take my phone out when the door to the break room swings open again.

Disappointment hits me when Brandon walks in.

But then I see her.

My sweet Hannah girl.

Today, she's in fitted black pants, a white shirt, matching white sneakers, and a checkered blazer.

God, she's fucking adorable. Constantly wrecking me with these librarian fantasies.

I start to rock forward, ready to walk toward her, but I stop myself at the last moment.

If she was alone, I could maybe play it off, but that fucker Brandon has stuck himself at her side, and he's already seen me leaving her office after the party. Not that he has any proof of wrongdoing, but he seems like the type of man-baby that would throw a fit over it. If for no other reason than he so desperately wants Hannah for himself.

Too bad she hates him.

I can tell.

"Damn, these cookies look good," the guy still making his selection says to no one in particular.

With Hannah under surveillance, I turn and follow the sales guy, selecting the items I want for lunch. A little container of pasta salad, a sandwich, a bag of jalape?o kettle chips, one of the individually wrapped oatmeal raisin cookies, and a bottle of lemonade.

There are several long tables, and only about half have people at them so far.

I choose one at random and take a seat near the end.

I need Hannah to come sit near me. So I need to leave options open.

Two project managers, who I think arrived at the work party with Hannah, enter the room.

They come over to my table and leave their water bottles in front of two spots at my side.

"Hey, Mr. Maddox." One of them greets me with a big grin.

"Afternoon." I nod. "And just Maddox is good."

She beams, and then the two of them get into the growing line for food.

I shouldn't be surprised when I see that Brandon went before Hannah in line.

It's not like I want him flirting with her, but I also don't want anyone treating my girl like anything less than the fucking queen she is. Plus, it's common fucking courtesy. Which Brandon clearly doesn't possess.

He turns to face the room, food in hand, and looks for a place to sit, purposely not looking at my table.

Behind him, Hannah reaches for a bottle of lemonade— same as me— then steps around him.

She doesn't say anything to him, doesn't ask where he wants to sit, because she didn't come here for him.

Her eyes meet mine, and she bites down on a smile.

She came here for me.

And in her eyes, I can see the same relief I feel over finally being in the same place again.

She crosses the room, moving directly to me.

There's still an open spot next to me, on the other side from where those PMs put their waters, but Hannah stops directly across the table from me. Same seating arrangement from that first lunch.

"This seat taken?" Her voice is a fucking balm to my soul.

"It's all yours."

Setting her items down, she pulls the chair out and sits down. "Thanks for lunch."

I look down at her selection and let the side of my mouth pull up. Ham and cheese. The whole reason I ordered food today.

A handful of items land on the table beside Hannah as Brandon drops his food into the empty spot next to her. Another way this is just like that first lunch.

"Brandon." I tip my head his way. "How's the car?"

Something bumps into my shin under the table.

"It's fine," Brandon grumbles as he takes a seat.

I quickly shift my knees apart, then back together, trapping Hannah's shoe between my legs.

Brandon starts in on a tirade about how the insurance companies are taking their sweet-ass time and how he had to pay out of pocket…

I stopped listening four seconds in.

Hannah tries to pull her foot back, but I keep it trapped until the PMs start to head back toward our table. Then I reluctantly let her go.

"This looks so good," the woman sitting closest to me says as she sets her food down and takes a seat.

Brandon had been taking a breath in his rant, so she unwittingly cut him off. Oh darn.

The rest of the spots fill in around us, and I let myself get pulled into various conversations. But my attention is never far from Hannah.

I'm swallowing my last bite of cookie when Brandon starts coughing.

It doesn't sound like he's choking exactly, but he's definitely having an issue.

Hannah turns, like she might pat him on the back, and I dart my foot forward, hooking hers.

Her eyes snap over, and I narrow mine at her.

If she touches him, I'm going to fire him. It's that simple.

The woman next to me snickers. "Those chips a little spicy for you?"

We all look down at the bag of jalape?o chips in front of Brandon.

He shakes his head, clearing his throat. "I'm fine. Just thought they were a different flavor. Took me off guard, is all."

I watch Brandon's eyes move over to my food wrappers, where I have the same bag of chips. Only mine is empty.

He takes a drink of his Coke, then eats another chip.

Hannah and the ladies next to me share a look, and I know we're all thinking the same thing.

This fool would rather choke down food that's too spicy for him than risk looking weak. A real case of death by machismo.

Moron.