Page 22 of Forever Mine

“In about three months, I think. It’s all just bureaucratic red tape at this point, unfortunately,” Meghan says. As she hits the doorway, she turns. “You have access to every personnel file, which includes phone numbers. You know, just in case.” And with that, Meghan winks at me and leaves the conference room.

Within ten minutes, I’m into Monica’s personnel file and have her phone number programmed into my phone. I forced myself to close the file without reading anything else. I can’t invade her privacy like that. I want Monica to tell me all about her life. I don’t want to read it. I want the words to come from her beautiful lips.

I head home and debate on texting Monica but manage to hold off. I need to take a deep dive into my own agenda: do I want to start a relationship with her or just clear the air? I’m not sure. Best if I wait for any communication between us once I know what I want.

I don’t see Monica all week. Realtors come and go from the office all the time, so it isn’t too out of the ordinary. It’s hard not to assume she’s avoiding me, but I know I’ll see her again at our weekly meeting.

When it comes time for the weekly meeting, I’ll admit that I’m actually a little nervous to see her again. I’ve been second-guessing my decision not to contact her all week, and I hope it doesn’t bite me in the ass.

As our meeting time comes and goes, I look around the room and see everyone present except for Monica.

“Monica isn’t coming,” a voice pipes up from the back. Chad? Charles? Shit. I can’t remember his name. “Said she wasn’t feeling well.”

I chuckle to myself. I know that wasn’t the reason. She is avoiding me.

“Alright, everyone, let’s get started then,” I say as I mentally push Monica to the back of my mind. “I wanted to gauge everyone’s interest in a team-building activity for one evening this month. I’d like to go into the mountains and have some fun. I found a ropes course we could do, then I figured we could cook out and enjoy a campfire. It will allow me to get to know all of you better.”

A couple of guys nod enthusiastically at me, but most of the women look less than thrilled with the idea.

“Would we have tostayout there? Like all night?” the blonde from the last meeting asks hesitantly. I chuckle.

“Not unless you want to. I own a cabin near the ropes course but don’t have space for more than me in the cabin. So anyone can bring a tent and camp on my property if they want.”

We handle all regular business aspects of the meeting before everyone heads out. I have a large pile of paperwork to complete and plan to work the remainder of the evening at the office. I have never enjoyed bringing work home. I want there to be a very obvious separation between work and home life. Even if it means I stay a few hours late at the office, I want my home to be my escape.

When my stomach growls, I head to the small in-office kitchen to scrounge up a snack. It’s after seven o’clock, but there’s a light on in a cubicle on the other side of the office. Assuming someone left it on, I head over to turn it off. As I look over the cubicle tops, I round the corner and plow into someone. I immediately jump into defensive mode, pushing the person away and crouching slightly, ready to fight.

“What the fuck?” an angry Monica shouts at me.Puta merda. I should have realized who it was just based on her height. As her eyes meet mine, she gasps and looks at the floor.

“I saw the light on,” I stammer.

“And you pushed me because …”

“I didn’t know it wasyou, obviously.”

“Not obviously. You’re lucky you didn’t hurt me, you giant.”

“I’m not a giant. You’re just pint-sized.”

Monica glares at me as she dramatically swipes at her pants as if she’s covered in dust. I take a moment to study her. She’s wearing black leggings and an oversized University of Oklahoma sweatshirt. Her hair is in a messy bun, and she isn’t wearing makeup. Pure and beautiful. She has a very small amount of freckles across her nose that I hadn’t noticed before.

“What are you even doing here this late?” she growls.

“Finishing up paperwork. What areyoudoing here this late?” I respond. Her face pales slightly as her mouth moves, but no words emerge. “You’re avoiding me, Monica.”

“No, I’m not. I’ve been busy. This is my first chance to come into the office.”

“Don’t lie to me,querida,” I warn her. Her brow furrows, and I wince when I realize I’ve called her a pet name.

“What did you just call me?” she says, narrowing her eyes. I sigh and rub my beard.

“You heard me,” I say. Monica growls again. I called herqueridathe night we met. I know she remembers, and I bite my lip to keep from smiling. Monica is undoubtedly a spitfire.

“That’s completely inappropriate for work, Mr. Campos,” she says, and I roll my eyes.

“Regardless of what happened that weekend, there’s no need for that formality. You can call me Gabriel just like every other person that works here, Monica,” I tell her.

“I’d prefer Ms. Valducci,” she sneers.

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