Page 2 of Lillian

One guy has been stealing food from the shared fridge every day. Not things like a little milk for his coffee or a donut from a community box on the counter. No, this man is taking fully prepared singular lunches with people’s names on them. So one paralegal decided payback was a bitch, wrote “tuna” on the plastic wrap of what looked like a tuna sandwich, and placed it front and center. At exactly twelve thirty-two, the thief bit into cold, wet catnip.

Lincoln says his shrieking was heard from on the opposite side of the office floor.

Catnip lady received a verbal warning from HR, and the thief was written up. However, around the office, I guess she’s a hero.

“No more drama,” he mumbles around a bite of food. “Though, Sarah has gotten a free lunch every day since then. Everyone in the office just takes turns buying for her.”

That makes me laugh. “Even you?” I ask, raising a brow.

His returning grin is sexy as hell. “I was the first one.”

The next thirty minutes or so are spent teasing and making small talk while we eat. He asks about my day. I work in graphic design for a small publishing house in Phoenix, and I love what I do. Lincoln told me it shows when I talk about it because my eyes light up, and I start using a ton of hand gestures. Not that itannoys him. He always listens intently with a small smile when I get on one of my tirades.

Which is what he’s doing now as I sit on his counter next to the sink, legs swinging, while he handwashes our dinner dishes. After the last dish gets placed on the drying rack, Lincoln wipes his wet hands on a towel and then comes to stand in between my legs.

The woodsy scent of his cologne hits me as he leans in, hands gliding up from the outside of my thighs, around to my ass, and yanks me forward. On instinct, my arms come up to rest on his shoulders.

“You’re so sexy when you talk about work,” he whispers before kissing me. I roll my eyes.

“You say that about everything.” I kiss him back.

“That’s because everything you do is sexy to me.” Flutters assault my stomach and warmth spreads through me at the compliment. This man…

I pull back and look into his eyes when he leans in again.

“What?” He frowns.

I say nothing and just stare at him for a minute. Nerves hit me, and I almost chicken out. But it’s been three months, and it’s almost slipped out about a dozen times by now. It’s how I feel, so there’s no point in waiting. Steeling my nerves, I go for it.

“I love you,” I whisper, looking him right in the eye and scrutinizing every eye twitch or mouth spasm to see if I’ve just completely freaked him out. Despite the pep talk I just gave myself, I start backpedaling in my head.

Three months is too short.

It’s not enough time to fall in love.

Right?

My heart stutters when his eyes pop open comically wide, and his mouth drops in a surprised “O.” He’s not going to say it back.

I’ve completely mortified him.

Not the reaction I was looking for.

I lean away from him a little, wishing now that he wasn’t still crowded so close, hands still squeezing my thighs. Every part of me wants to flee. Hide under some covers until the mortification passes.

“You don’t have to say it back. I just wanted to tell you how I feel.” My voice is quiet as I avoid eye contact. A finger settles under my chin and pulls my face back around to his.

Lincoln is grinning at me, eyes full of mirth and… joy?

It feels like my blood is thrumming as I wait on bated breath for him to say it back. Or put me out of my misery. He opens his mouth and…

Knock, knock, knock.

Three loud raps come from the front door. “LJ, open up!” A booming voice filters through the hallway to where we are in the kitchen. Loud and clear and with an obvious familiarity that says he knows who’s calling. But it’s not a voice I recognize.

I frown at Lincoln in confusion, waiting for him to fill in the blanks. The wince I get in return is not reassuring.

“I’m sorry,” is all he says before he sighs and pulls away, taking off down the hallway to open the front door. I hop off the counter and smooth down my sweater dress.

---