Page 23 of Blue Collar Hotties

“You and me both, pal,” I mutter, shuffling to my desk. The chair squeals as I sit down, rocking madly on its broken wheel, and I’ve never felt less inspired in my life. Never felt so drab, so trapped, so hopeless. When will it end?

When my family decides I’ve atoned for my sins, I guess.

So: never.

As I bring up Uncle Roderick’s schedule for next week on the monitor, I donotlook out the window. I can take a freaking hint, and I’m already sick with all the shame sloshing around my belly. I’m never gonna stare at Gabe Dempsey again. I’ve learned my lesson.

So I’ve got no warning when the elevator pings, then grinds its doors open. No one ever comes up to this floor if they can help it, because, you know. Uncle Roderick is a petty blowhard.

Glancing up from my desk, all the air rushes from my body. The clock tick-tocks on the wall, and my pulse thrums in my wrists, and meanwhile, I’ve turned to stone, staring wide-eyed at the man strolling toward me.

“Hey, beautiful.” He grins.

And… holy crap. I thought Gabe Dempsey was a powerful sight when he wasout there, safely separated by stone walls and glass. In here, only a few steps away…

I can’t breathe. Can’t move. My tongue is glued to the roof of my mouth, and I’m squeezing my chewed-up pencil so hard the wood creaks.

His tan work boots thud against the floor, and Gabe pushes his windswept hair back as he approaches, though it immediately falls over his forehead again. There’s a smear of dirt on his left cheekbone, and his red flannel shirt is clouded with dust. His green eyes root me to the spot easier than if he’d lassoed me and tied me to the chair.

“The boss wants a progress report. Is he ready for me?”

Right. Duh.

Gabe’s here for work reasons, not to seeme.It’s stupid thoughts like that which got me so crushed in the first place. I duck my head and click around the screen, even though my vision’s gone all blurry.

“Um,” I say. “Let me just check.”

I can do this. I can be normal with the man who broke my heart without ever saying a single word to me.

“Thanks, Lenore.”

Gabe Dempsey knows my name? How?

And if he knows my name, why did he call mebeautifuljust now? Is he messing with me? Or does he flirt with everyone?

A low voice floats through Uncle Roderick’s office door, finally registering with my frazzled brain. It’s half a conversation, and by the way he’s droning on in there, UncleRoderick is warming up for a full lecture. The sound of his own voice is my uncle’s favorite thing in the whole world.

“Would you like to take a seat?” I say through numb lips. Can’t look at those steady green eyes, so I address Gabe’s shirt collar instead. One side’s gotten flipped up by the wind, and now that I’ve noticed it, I can’t look away. “He’s on the phone in there, and that could be a while. You’d better make yourself comfortable.”

There’s a long pause as Gabe Dempsey peers around the room, looking for the chair I’ve just stupidly offered. Nothing. Nada. There’s nowhere for him to sit at all, not unless he fancies hopping up on the ancient photocopier in the corner and making copies of his perfect butt.

My cheeks burn. “Oh.” Is this one of Uncle Roderick’s shitty power plays? Bet he read about it in some awful business book.Assert dominance by hiding all the chairs!“S-sorry. You can take mine—”

I rocket to my feet, chair spinning out behind me, right as Gabe holds up a palm and says, “Forget it, gorgeous. It’s fine.”

Gorgeous. Beautiful.If he stays here much longer, what else might he call me?

At least we’re both standing now. Gabe Dempsey is taller than me, much taller, but he’s not looming like he was. Without thinking, I reach across the desk and flip his folded-up collar down, smoothing the warm fabric with my palm.

He’s so sturdy under those clothes. Like his chest is made of carved stonework too.

Oof. What am I doing?

I go to snatch my hand back, but Gabe catches my wrist. He waits for me to meet his gaze, then raises one eyebrow.

His smile is slow and teasing, like before. Like it was before he started acting like I don’t exist. My insides quiver, even as my heart gives a pang.

The callused pad of his thumb circles my pulse point. Green eyes bore into me, hungry and tense behind the smile, and I can’t bear how hot and cold this man blows. How impossible he is to follow.

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