Page 15 of His Curvy Distraction

“Hello?” a woman replied. The woman I was looking for.

And dammit, going there was a bad idea.

Natalie had her brown hair pulled up high on her head, loose tendrils falling around her shoulders like she’d been messing with her hair and tugged pieces out without realizing it. Her hazel eyes were wide, even wider when she saw me.

“Mr. Mayor,” she blurted. She looked back into the room she came from, like she was going to go back into it and ignore me.

I walked toward her, not giving her the chance to hide. “We had a meeting.”

“Yes, and I called to cancel it. Did you not get my message?”

“I got your message. But I had this time blocked off on my calendar to meet with you. So, we’re going to meet.”

“Now?” she squeaked.

“Yes, now. Is that your office?”

She looked back at the room again, and my gaze followed hers.

The room was barely a closet, and definitely not an office, but there was a tiny desk shoved in with a chair wedged into the corner. A file cabinet took up the majority of the space with a whiteboard above it on the wall with a drawing of the campground.

“You won’t fit in there,” she said.

“It looks like you barely fit in there.”

She jerked back like I offended her, then rolled her lips in. “I’m aware of my size, Mr. Mayor.”

“Your size?”

“I assure you, my weight has nothing to do with my ability to run this summer camp.”

“Why the hell would it?”

“You…”

“I what?”

“Nothing. We can go up on the stage. There’s space up there.” She nodded toward the elevated platform at the far end of the gym.

I moved toward it, but she went into the office. “Are you coming?”

“If you insist on meeting now, then I need to get my things. If that’s okay.”

I nodded and stared after her as she stepped into her office. She turned sideways to make it between the desk and the file cabinet, then sat down in the chair. She swiveled her seat until she was facing the other wall, then opened a drawer hidden beneath the desk and pulled out a file. She reversed the steps and caught me watching her when she walked into the gym.

“I thought you were going to go to the stage.”

“You also thought I was making a comment about your weight. When I said you barely fit in your office, it was a comment about the size of the office, not you. That’s not a place anyone could work comfortably.”

“Forgive me, Mr. Mayor, but we don’t have space here like you have at town hall. Our time is better spent with the kids, and every office is small to make sure the common areas are as big as possible.”

I nodded, seeing that same spark she had when she spoke about the kids before. The spark that said she was as passionate as Amelia about the kids she worked with, and not just trying to manipulate me to get what she wanted by pretending she cared. She meant what she said.

She gestured toward the stage, then followed me. I sat at one of the tables and tried not to breathe in her scent when she sat across from me.

I failed.

She smelled like markers and strawberries. A strange combination, but one I didn’t hate. Oddly.

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