Page 29 of Muddy Messy Love

The back of my knee bounces against the cold, hard cushion. This is a bad idea. I can feel it in my bones. I don’t belong amongst elegance, suits, or stilettos. I belong in clay-smeared yoga pants, locked in a creative trance on my studio floor, but damn if that will pay the bills or impress a judge.

I scan my surroundings, trying to diffuse my panic and repress the memory of that super-dumb text. At least today no one’s here to swear at me or knock me out. And even if they were, the six tiny surveillance cameras I’ve so far spotted just might be a deterrent.

“Avery.” The familiar deep voice whips my heart back into a gallop, and I snap my head up to find Cole striding across the foyer in another impeccably tailored suit. Inwardly, I sigh. That man fits this place like a queen fits her castle, carrying grace with a confident ease. He looks me up and down as I stand to greet him, but the resulting clench of his jaw sends my stomach intofree fall. My shoulder-length hair hangs straight—after all, it’s not the beach—and I’m wearing another of Beth’s skirts with a pinstripe blouse, blazer, and heels. But…did I dress wrong?

I feel the blood drain from my cheeks and let my eyes fall shut. How presumptuous to assume I’d qualify for office duties.What was I thinking?

He halts in front of me, and again I sigh. “I’m the new janitor, aren’t I?”

Cole’s brows jump, but amusement tweaks one corner of his mouth. “What were you expecting?”

Perhaps I should have asked, like a normal person.

I shake my head. “I can go home and change.”

“Not necessary. Though you may want to wear something easier to move in tomorrow. Something that can get dirty.”

The way he says that last word adds a confusing layer of crackling heat to my humiliation, and I toy with the idea of running back through the doors, jumping on the first airport bus, and flying to Jamaica. But I don’t have a passport—or money—or a desire to see Jamaica. All in all, it’s a terrible plan.

“Christ, don’t look so scared,” Cole says. “We don’t bite. Not on this floor, at least.”

That’s a shame, I find myself thinking as I stare at those straight teeth and perfect Cupid’s-bow lips. I drag my gaze up to meet his. “But the other floors? You bite there?”

A dark flash crosses his eyes. It only lasts a millisecond but is enough for the last two words of his final text to rumble between my legs.

Naughty one.

I suppress a shiver and squeeze my thighs together.

“Only on the good days,” he says. “But don’t worry, you’ll be down here.”

Again, I scan my surroundings. He said this was a full-time job. And while I mightn’t be the fastest cleaner in the world,there’s no way this will take eight hours every day unless it’s with a toothbrush.

Oh crap. Is it with a toothbrush?

I frown at the maze of grout lines until Cole clears his throat.Shit. He probably earns ten dollars a minute, and I’ve just wasted one of them staring at the floor, trying to decide what cleanser would work best with said toothbrush. Still, he doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, Cole appears mildly entertained, but I can only assume it’s the flavour of entertainment one gets when they visit a foreign zoo—more of a fascinated bewilderment. After all, going by this place, he rarely mixes with people like me.

He tilts his head in the direction from which he came. “Come. Follow me.”

So I do. I follow him like a lost puppy on trembling knees and four-inch sticks for the second time in a week, the discomfort I told Beth about running rife in my chest. Maybe I should have downed a few shots this morning too. I could’ve been a drunk but far less awkward janitor.

Cole rounds the corner and halts outside a golden elevator, turning to face me while he adjusts the cuff of his sleeve. “Do you like kids, Avery?”

“Kids?” Immediately, I blush because for a nanosecond, my wild imagination has the audacity to think Cole might be asking for himself—that I’m a viable breeding candidate. I mentally slap the thought away. “How is that relevant?”

“It’s not only relevant—it’s vital. Didn’t you complete child studies in your final year?” His brows rise hopefully.

God, what else does he know? “Sure. I love kids,” I concede.

“Good. Then I think you’ll be pleased.” Palm side up, Cole raises his hand, motioning over my shoulder with a dip of his chin, and I turn to find a clear glass wall, beyond which lie toys of every colour, size, and shape—filling polka-dot boxes, lining royal-blue shelves. Space-themed mobiles and handmadesea creatures dangle from the ceiling, and a cartoon bumblebee flies across the back wall, spelling out “Mini-Bees” in a dashed and dotted trail. Three tiny humans, ranging in size, speckle the large space, and a white bassinet stands in one corner, draped in netting.

I spin back to face Cole with butterflies twirling around my heart. “So I’m not the new janitor?”

With a glittering, lopsided smirk, he shakes his head, rocking back on his heels with pocketed hands. “Afraid not. Bernie prefers to work alone.”

I itch to playfully punch his arm for messing with me, but I’m so damn excited and relieved I can’t move. “I don’t know what to say.” This is perfect, and I’m guessing my goofy smile conveys as much, because Cole is staring at me with one of his own.

God, those eyes. That dimple.

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