Page 24 of Pucking Sweet

“It’s in your personnel file. Along with your new roster photo…which looks like a mugshot, by the way. Is it really so difficult for you men to smile?” She pulls it up on her phone, flashing me the new picture of my broody face.

“Impossible,” I tease. “I can’t let the other teams know I’m actually a nice guy. Besides, I like to save all my smiles for you.”

She goes still, searching my face.

Fuck. Too far. Dial it back, Nov.

She sets her phone down. “Does all this bravado actually work on women?”

Seriously, are we back to the harmless flirting? I can’t tell. “Usually, yes. But I think my software isn’t compatible with your current operating system. That’s a little IT talk,” I tease. “See, you underestimated me before about the phones and internet.”

There it is, a real smile.

Fuck, she’s pretty when she smiles.

She clears her throat and it’s gone. “As to your question regarding logistics, that’s just a paper copy for your records. I’ve already sent you the PDF as well. Have all your intimate partners sign electronically. You can send them in batches if that’s easier.”

“Perhaps we can establish a weekly deadline,” I offer. “Like homework for teacher. My signed sex contracts are due to Ms. St. James every Sunday night at 8 p.m. If I’m late, you’ll make me write lines on Coach Johnson’s whiteboard.”

“I don’t think we need to be that dramatic. But if you’d prefer to set a scheduled time for me to mark the receipt of your contracts each week, I’m amenable to that.”

I can’t help but shake my head, staring at her in wonder. “You’re serious. You really expect me to get women to sign this, fuck them, then send the signed ‘we fucked’ contracts over to you?”

“It’s a standard practice with public figures who find themselves in this position—”

“Thispositionbeing philandering manwhore. Just say it, Poppy.”

She stiffens. “Lukas, I swear this isn’t a trap. I’m not trying to trick you or reprimand you or judge you. I’m trying tohelpyou. You can send the contracts to one of my male staff members if that will make you more comfortable.”

“Fucking hell,” I mutter.

Before either of us can say another word, there comes a sharp knock at the door.

“Knock, knock,” says a deep voice. “Hey, Poppy, I just wanted to—oh—Novy, hey.”

I glance over my shoulder to see Morrow standing in Poppy’s doorway, holding a plant.

“Hey, Colton,” she says brightly. “Lukas and I are just finishing up. Can this possibly wait?”

He looks from me to Poppy, and fuck if I don’t know that look. Is Morrow seriously about to get territorial with me over our public relations director? “There’s nothing I needed other than to just drop this off, a little ‘thank you’ for the granola.” His smile falls as he glances around. “But now I see there’s no window in here so…”

I stretch out my legs, making a show of getting comfortable in the only chair. “Pathetic, right?”

“Excuse me, but I happen to like this office.” As Poppy says the words, the lights overhead flicker.

Morrow is still looking around with a frown. “Not to be rude but…why?”

I snort.

Poppy casts me a pointed glare before looking over my shoulder to Morrow. “Thank you, Colton. This was so sweet of you. Tell you what—why don’t you take the plant home with you for now, and you can drop it off at my apartment later?”

He brightens, clutching the plant like it’s the last one on earth. “Yeah, sure. That works.”

My gaze darts between them. “You know where she lives?”

The asshole grins and Poppy laughs. “Well, he better, seeing as we share a wall.”

Okay, what the actual fuck?

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