Page 6 of Out of Office

“Hi, miss, I have a Señor Adrián to see you?” Jose, the security guard, announced.

Was that my heart attempting to escape my chest? And why did everything feel warmer all of a sudden?

Why had Adrián returned? My memories were murky at best, and I didn’t remember if we had agreed for him to take me to the rental company? Running through the events of last night, I found the reason within seconds. By the time I remembered my missing laptop bag, a firm knock had reverberated through the apartment.

With my heart in my throat, I marched toward the door, taking a quick inventory of my state. Breath check—yikes, I cupped my hand over my mouth, and the smell of black coffee punched me back. Damn.

“Give me a sec!”

I dashed to the bathroom. For fuck’s sake, why did I care so much about my breath, of all things? There was no reason for my jitters; Adrián had been nothing but professional these past four months. What did I think? That we would be tangling tongues one day removed from our professional relationship? He’d never been so close to me to detect my black coffee dragon breath.

Where was the poised, put-together Silent Sniper? Just the thought of Adrián standing behind my door had me conjuring ways to convince him to stay and chat for a while.

I’d been sad to part ways with Anita and the team at the Tropics, but saying goodbye to Adrián had been my hardest task. Adrián, who’d given me space to warm up to him at my pace, and embraced all my questions about his country enthusiastically, showing a deep interest in my thoughts that went beyond politeness. He’d integrated me into his everyday, telling me anecdotes of his drives or the day’s news, telling me in his easygoing manner, always finding ways to pull smiles from me.

We didn’t always see eye to eye, though; I loved our heated debates about how to grow our communities and what was needed the most. Generational wealth in my eyes, equitable sharing of resources between families and beyond in his eyes. When he got into his stride, his voice would deepen and I was a bit ashamed to say, my mind would travel elsewhere, wondering how that deep voice would make me feel in the middle of sweaty sex. Who thought deep existential conversations would be so sexy?

The ghost sensation of the rasp of warm skin kissed my lips, and a flash of memory of how delicious it had felt to press my mouth against his cheek resurfaced. Yo...had I really told him I’d miss him?

Incredible, one conversation with Mom where I held my own, and suddenly I transformed into a hot girl, doing hot girl things.

At work, I was self-contained and determined. Outside of work, during those elusive couple of hours per day, I lived in my quiet bubble, surrounded by my assortment of quirky coffee mugs, comfy plush onesies, excessive pillows, and my board games. Twenty-year-old Gen would have been perplexed. All that work and that was all I had to show?

Gino, my best friend, had tasked himself with improving my social life. He obviously didn’t care about the known definition of madness. Every week he cajoled me into dinner, a movie, and, when feeling really lucky, to a local bar. Every week I managed ways to finagle myself out of the plans, attempting to convince him to hang out at my condo instead. We had a fifty-fifty track record. But lately, Gino had shown signs of fatigue. It wasn’t easy being friends with such an introvert.

A blast of mint filled my mouth, and I swished the mouthwash like I would win a prize for it. Displaying unexpected speed, I hurried across the open living room, dining room, and kitchen, my heart beating so hard, I confused it with the knock on the door. I yanked the door open with a show of force I never showed in the gym, halting when I met a wall of white.

My eyes traveled from the torso, adorned by a white T-shirt valiantly covering all that chest, up to the dimple of my weekly dreams. Adrián stood in his T-shirt and jeans, holding my laptop bag. Adrián in slacks and shirts had been a treat, but Adrián, dressed down, was a whole cheat day.

“Hey, Adrián.”

Why did I sound as if I had run from Florida to the door?

“Hey, Ms. Raymond.” The quirk of his lips pulled my attention, interrupting my fascination with his dimple.

“I thought I told you to call me by my name?” Alert, alert: The Return of the Hot Girl.

“Isn’t Ms. Raymond your name?” He had such an expressive eyebrow. And why did that arch make me want to run my finger over it?

“Oh please, you know what I mean. I’m Genevieve, and Tropics no longer employs you to drive me so we can drop all that professionalism of the past four months.”

I waved him in and closed my eyes as he swaggered inside the apartment. The smell of his cologne would haunt me until the end of my days. He rested his deliciously burly body against the white marble kitchen island, elbow relaxed on the counter.

“So tell me, Genevieve, how do you look when you drop your professionalism?” he asked while I pressed myself against the closed door.

“I...well...” Hot Girl, come back! I need you. I wasn’t ready for this pressure, all this time I thought this infatuation one-sided. How had I missed the signs?

Oh yeah, because I was buried in work.

He grinned. Mmm-hmm, so he was amused at witnessing how I fumbled the bag? I rallied, wanting to leave a lasting impression before saying goodbye.

“We won’t ever know, will we?” I shrugged and approached him, extending my hand. He studied me, all loose limbs and relaxed pose, and I realized he was trying to set me at ease. His eyes, though, told a different story. His intense gaze burned through my chest, electrifying every atom in my body.

“I wished we’d met in a different setting,” he confessed, and I nodded like a marionette under his strings, the beat of my heart accelerating again. Could he hear it?

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“What could I say? If I made a move, you’d probably ask for a different company to pick you up.”

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