Page 43 of Muddy Messy Love

My voice comes choked, barely there, and I regret the words before I even finish. “Section four. Sexual harassment. I suggest you read it.”

Cole drops his hand like I stung him and steps away, and losing his touch is akin to being doused with a bucket of ice.

He rubs the back of his neck, frowning at the floor. “Christ, I’m sorry. That was highly inappropriate.” He walks away and halts, facing the city view. “Please accept my apology. For everything.”

I stare at his back, envious of the jacket that hugs him, fighting the urge to reconnect—to touch him—to apologise. Fuck section three and four. Fuck everything. But I stop myself. Enough damage has been done, and I’m lucky to be leaving with my job.

So without words, I slip through the door, closing it on my way out. I rush past his assistant, avoiding eye contact, and smash my palm against the elevator button, willing it to hurry. I notice a memorial portrait of Gerard Benedict hanging above. “Your nephew’s a hypocrite,” I whisper but then immediately feel bad. “Sorry,” I mumble as the elevator dings. When the doors glide shut, I slump against the mirrored wall with a sigh.

What just happened?

A war rages inside me. Irritation strong enough to bend steel but also white-hot heat, blistering enough to melt it. And then there’s the tingling, the confusion, the butterflies pirouetting through my belly. Ickiness at the way things were left. It’s all too much.

I think back to that silent moment when my heart and pain recognised his in some mystical energetic fusion. I shudder.

He’stoo much.

Arriving at the foyer restroom, I lean against the vanity and stare at the mirror. My skin is blotchy. Eyes wild and smudged with mascara. Lips still buzzing from his touch. I trace the feeling with my fingertips, and my eyes darken as less innocent images descend. Need aches between my legs. I want more. I wanthim. Growling, I pluck a tissue from the box and clear the smears from under my eyes.

I’m so screwed.

The fact I’m late seems to have gone unnoticed when I arrive at Mini-Bees. A curvy woman I’ve never met is settling in the newest arrivals, and Hannah feeds Jack while Ella stands guard.

“Where’s Tej?” I ask, scanning the room.

“Sick. Probably the man flu, but don’t worry, I called for reinforcement.” Hannah kicks her chin towards the grey-haired stranger. “That’s Marla. Your predecessor. Retired now, but still magical.”

Marla smiles at me, and I offer her a friendly wave, but Tej’s absence sits like concrete in my stomach. Did Cole reprimand him too, or is he actually sick? For his sake, I hope it’s the latter. I sign in and approach the art corner.

What if Cole fired him?

Shaking away the thought, I halt next to the bank of miniature easels.

No, surely not.

Young Alex, Lily, and Max stand in puffy smocks, painting modern masterpieces, so I resolve to focus on work. However, the scene upstairs replays on loop, and my mind feeds on it like a frenzy of fish at dusk.

I don’t get it. Cole defends me for free, then gives me a job. Buys me a phone, flirts, turns cold, then reprimands me.Threatensme, then begs me not to leave. He caresses my face, touches my heart, then walks away with regret. Albeit after I threatened him with harassment.

Fuck.Why did Idothat?

“Avery. Avery.”

I snap from my daze to find Alex tugging on my sleeve, his little hands drenched in blue paint. “What is it, short stuff?”

“I’m finished.” Alex points towards his easel. “Look, it’s you.”

I crack a smile as I examine the portrait. I look more sun than human with arms as ears and insanely long legs, but I’d never tell Alex that. “Wow, that’s amazing! It looks just like me.” Alex beams. “Let’s get you clean.” Acknowledging my paint-smeared sleeve with a grimace, I guide Alex to the wash trough.

“I like painting my hands,” he says, grinning up at me.

“I can see that.”

When Alex no longer looks like he murdered a Smurf, I start work on my once light-grey sleeve. I expected stains, only I hoped it would take longer than two days. Damn you, Cole. It’s all your fault.

Lathering the soap, I scrub away but soon toss the bar aside to begrudgingly accept fate. Perching my hands on the trough, I stare at the wall and drift away. He said I was beautiful. And with such…reverence.I shiver at the memory.

“If you soak that now, you might save it.”

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