Page 9 of Branded
He was my boss. Well, actually, he was my boss’s boss and so that put him firmly in the category of scary and anxiety-inducing. Would I say something that would be weird or awkward or put Oliver’s job at risk? He’d vouched for me, and I could be weird, so…
And that wasn’t even including all the weird things I could say that would hurt my own chances in this new position.
Or might not say.
Like what if I was spinning so rapidly in my own head that I didn’t respond in time and then I’d look like an idiot and?—
Meetings were exhausting.
All that being said, I wasn’t really paying attention to where I was going when I realized I was walking by the locker room.
The locker room with the naked men…and based on the rumbling voice echoing out into the hall, the naked Conner Smith.
“Fuck,” I whispered, feet slowing, teeth coming to my bottom lip.
I pressed hard, the bite of pain clearing the fog in my brain.
Of course, I couldn’t just stand there in the hall, biting my lip and wringing my hands. I needed to get the fuck out of there and I needed to do it fast and?—
Deep breath.
Just walk by.
I wasn’t creeping.
I belonged here and I wouldn’t look and?—
Right.
Shit. Someone was coming around the corner at the far end of the hall and if I did continue to stand here staring off into space, I would look like a creeper and then I’d be fired, and then I would probably get Oliver fired and?—
Fuck, Kailey. Move your ass.
Right. Okay. I could do that.
Lean forward, use gravity to my advantage, start my feet moving, and go. Eyes forward. Gaze not drifting toward the open locker room door (no fucking way, Henderson!). Go. Go. Go!
I went.
Wall. Wall. Opening. Not looking. Not looking. Not lo?—
“Oof!”
Every bit of the air in my lungs left in a rush as I found myself colliding with something hard…and big…and broad…and a handsome, bearded face with deep brown eyes and black hair, with plump lips and a scar across his temple.
I collided with Smitty.
And, fuck, he smelled good.
Spicy and manly, his body close to mine, his expression going from shock to horror in the blink of an eye. And literally, in the blink of an eye was how long it took for me to process that I hadn’t avoided him, that I was standing smack dab in the open doorway.
Or had been, anyway.
Because now I was falling right in front of that open doorway, Conner’s broad body taking me out as efficiently as he’d laid out players on opposing teams.
His broad hands held something blue and white, but that was all I could see before his fingers opened, whatever he held dropped to the floor. Before he reached for me. Before time seemed to speed up again.
Only, he was too late.
