Page 15 of Jilted

“Why?”

He bent and picked up the items I’d dropped. “Because you ran out on me the other night before I could get your number.”

I swallowed and started walking again, forgetting he still had my things. “I didn’t plan on giving it to you anyway.”

He narrowed his eyes, as if getting turned down wasn’t something he was used to. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t like you very much.”

He grinned. “You seemed to like me a lot in the coat closet.”

“That was an accident.”

His brows jumped. “An accident? You accidentally sucked face with me?”

“I remember it differently.Youwere the one who sucked face withme.”

“You didn’t mind.”

I brushed past him and walked into my office. He followed, setting my water bottle on the corner of my desk and holding the book out to me. Though he pulled it back to read the cover. “Finding Your Inner Self? Are you reading this crap?”

I plucked my book from his hand. “None of your business.”

He shrugged. “I like you the way you are just fine.”

“Look, Wilder. I’m flattered, but I’m also not interested. Yes, the kiss was nice. But you’re not my type. Besides, you said you live in England.”

“Nice? The kiss was more than nice. I think a writer could do better than that.”

Heart-stopping, breath-stealing, fireworks-worthy—even a simpleamazingwould be better, but I didn’t want to encourage this guy. Though, my dumb body seemed to have a mind of its own. My eyes dropped to his lips, and my chest heaved. Wilder didn’t miss any of it, either. When I looked up, he smirked, which only made me scowl.

“It’s not happening.” I walked around to the other side of my desk, happy to put a little space between us. The breathing room must’ve let me think straight for the first time, because it dawned on me that he was here, inside my office. “How did you get into the building? The doors lock at six. You need a passcode to get in after that.”

Wilder tilted his head, studying me, and smiled. “My father gave me his code.”

“Your father?”

He nodded.

Why the hell does he look so amused?“Who is your father? Does he work here?”

“He does indeed.”

Great. Just great.Now I’d dug myself a giant hole—posting a nipple photo of the big boss’s friend’s daughter and making out with some other employee’s kid.

“Who’s your father?”

“Ted.”

I flipped through my mental employee Rolodex, but came up blank. “Ted who?”

“Ted Hayes.”

My jaw dropped open. “But… the other guy is named Ted, the nice one from the wedding party.”

“Believe it or not, there are more than two men named Ted in the world. In fact, there are four in my family.”

“But you’re Wilder.”

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