Page 65 of Mistle-Ho

“What kind of man indeed.” There’s a hint of a smile in her voice and I can picture the way it’s trying to twist her full lips. “How long do you think it will take you to get here?”

“I’m already in the elevator.” I punch the button to close the door. “My phone might cut out.”

“I’ll let you go then.” She pauses. “Be careful.”

My chest warms at her concern and I press a hand over the spot. “Always.”

I’m still smiling as I climb behind the wheel and whip out of the garage, unable to stop myself from pushing the limits as I speed toward the building where Alexis works. I can’t wait to see her. Can’t wait to show her how right she was by calling me. By trusting me to take care of her.

Because I’m starting to think I might want to do it forever. I know it’s early for that, but I can’t imagine not having her in my life. Smiling at me every morning and eating dinner with me every night.

I get to her work in record time, but it still feels like it takes forever and, after parking it in the vacant spot next to her little crossover, I practically jump out of my Hummer. The elevator moves maddeningly slow as it carries me to her floor and I rush out the second the doors open, like the eager bastard I am.

I haven’t been to Al’s office before, but I’ve sent her flowers a couple times, so I have the suite number memorized. When I reach it, I pull the door open, ready to be her knight in well-worn jeans.

And come face to face with the sight of her luscious body pressed against that fucker who came to her place Christmas morning.

29

Elevation Matters

Alexis

I’M LEANED BACK in my office chair, bare feet kicked up on the top of my desk as I scroll through posts on my phone, sipping the tea I brewed up, when the door opens. I’m expecting Gavin, so I immediately straighten, my belly doing a little flip while I try to control the smile plastering itself across my face.

But instead of a giant hunk of rugby-playing man meat walking in, it’s Dillon, and that smile I was fighting gets hella easy to smother. “What are you doing here?” The question comes out snarky. I’m fine with that.

My coworker’s eyes drift around the darkened office as he tucks his keys into the front pocket of his expensive slacks. “I forgot my jacket.” His gaze comes to me, lingering in a way that makes me want to squirm in my seat. “What areyoudoing here?”

I slide my phone and my tea onto the desk as I stuff both feet into my pumps. “My car wouldn’t start, so I’m waiting for someone to come get me.” I stand, the added three inches still only brings me to Dillon’s chin, but at least it gets us closer to a level playing field.

Dillon’s narrowed gaze hardens. “You mean you’re waiting forGavinto come pick you up.” His lip curls into a sneer. “Youknow you’re just wasting your time with him, right?” Dillon begins to slowly stalk my way. “He’s nothing but a fucking manwhore and he’s just using you. When you get boring, he’ll ditch you the same way he has every other woman he’s fucked.”

There was a time where I would have believed what he was saying. Easily. Now all Dillon’s bullshit only pisses me off. Makes me want to defend Gavin in a violent and vicious way.

I know what Gavin was. But I also know why he was that way. I know there were probably plenty of girls who crossed his path that he wanted more from, but he avoided them, sure letting them close would only bring out the worst in him.

Just like Dillon is about to bring out the worst in me.

“And I still picked him over you, so what does that tell you?” I’ve never been good at diffusing a situation, and apparently I have no plans to start now. “So get your jacket and take your bitter, jealous ass home.”

What the fuck did I ever see in this guy? How could I have possibly believed there was anything redeeming about him? Even his fashionable wardrobe and over-the-top grooming doesn’t appeal to me anymore. Could I appreciate some other man in a well-tailored, expensive suit? Probably.

But it still wouldn’t be nearly as mouthwatering as Gavin in worn jeans and a broken-in T-shirt.

Dillon snorts. “Is that what you think? That I’m jealous?” His brows lift. “Ofhim?” He continues coming my way, each step looking more predatory than the last. “If anything, I’m grateful.” There’s a mean glint in his eyes now. “He’s going to show you how fucking stupid you are and how big of a mistake you made.”

I back up as he closes in, not liking the threatening vibe he’s giving off. “Pretty sure only one of us is making mistakes, Dill-hole.” I can’t stop the little laugh that sneaks out over the way I’ve come full-circle. From hating Gavin’s nicknames to loving—and using—them.

Dillon’s expression turns murderous. “What the fuck are you laughing at?”

“You.” Shit. My mouth is starting to be as big of a problem as my face.

He’s coming at me before I can blink, the weight of his body hitting me hard enough to send me stepping backward in an attempt to stay on my feet. When Dillon’s hand grips my throat, shoving me into the wall behind my desk, my whole body goes cold and my stomach drops.

I might have underestimated this guy. Definitely gave him more credit than he deserved by thinking he was just a twat.

“Don’t fucking laugh at me, Alexis.” His words come out through clenched teeth. “You won’t like what happens next.”

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