Page 193 of Crazy for this Girl

My brows crash together. “Flowers?” I rise from my leather chair. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

Cal.

I can’t hide the excitement in my face while my brain tells me to warn Cal not to start getting used to doing this. The last thing I want is for a rumor to go around that I’m sleeping with the CEO and that’s why he’s allowing me to do what I please.

Marie follows me to the receptionist area, blabbing on about how beautiful they are when my eyes lock on the man leaned against the front desk, and I immediately halt. Marie’s small frame bumps into mine, and I start to have a mini freakout.

“Oliver.” His name is a croak at best, but he must not notice or thinks it’s because I’m completely thrown off that he’s here, at my job, out of jail, and standing in front of me.

I am thrown off.

Because I never wanted to see him again—ever.

“Laynee.” He beams at me, pushing off the desk with a bouquet of red roses as he rounds it to get to me.

Instead of receiving his presence like any normal person, I back up, bumping into Marie’s body that’s still very much in my way and obvious that she’s going to watch this whole ordeal go down in flames.

“I missed you so much.”

“Uh…” I rearrange my body so I can get Marie in my line of vision and out of my business. “Thanks, Marie. I appreciate you coming to get me.”

“It’s not a problem.” She leans closer to me and mutters, “He’s so cute.”

Want him?

However, I’d never ask her that nor would I ever wish for her to experience the violent wake-up call that I received from my ex-boyfriend.

Plus, she’s married now.

I stare at her, subtly telling her to take a hike, but she doesn’t move. I’m about to ask her to give me some privacy when Oliver is right there in my space in front of me.

“I picked these up for you,” he says, driving the flowers closer to me. “I know they’re your favorite.”

I hate red roses.

He’d know that if he had ever paid the hell attention.

“Thanks.” I pluck the flowers from his hands and thrust them at Marie’s chest. “Do you mind finding a vase for these?”

And something else for you to do.

“Oh”—she disappointedly looks down at them, aware she’s not going to be able to watch whatever she thinks this is going to be and takes the red flowers—“of course.”

“Laynee, I was going to call.” Oliver steps forward, and I counter it, to which he notices this time. His face immediately twists in confusion to my utter amazement. I remember a few colorful words, including that I never wanted to see him again, spew from my lips through the phone and a glass window. “What’s wrong?”

“What are you doing here? This is my job, Oliver. You can’t be—”

“I just got out.” His lips curl into a smile like I’d be delighted at the fact. “Good behavior and all that. I needed to see you. I wanted to apologize for everything I did.”

I meet his honey brown eyes and reply, “Okay, thanks.” Then jerk my head to the direction of the elevator. “You gotta go.”

“Laynee,” he objects slowly as if he has any right to speak to me. “Let’s not be like this.”

“Let’s I can be whatever I want,” I leer through slitted eyes, but I still notice his sandy blond hair and how it’s longer now. “Please leave.” His palm comes up and brushes my bicep, and I yank it away. “Stop. Don’t make a scene.”

“I’m not,” he snaps back like I’m acting insane. “You’re acting like we’ve never met before. What’s wrong—”

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