Page 34 of Love Me Stalk Me
Nope.
Not thinking about that at all.
I barely make it three steps down the hall before I run straight into a wall of muscle. Theimpact knocks me back a step, my coffee sloshing dangerously close to the lid of my travel mug. I stumble back, blinking up, already prepared to unleash a world-class glare?—
And then I realize the wall of muscle has a name.
Callahan.
Unlike me, he doesn’t stumble. Doesn’t even blink. Just watches me, face locked in that infuriating mask of composure, like he saw this coming three steps ago.
"You okay?"
I clear my throat, trying to shake off the humiliating fact that my entire body just collided with his. "Yeah, no thanks to you."
One brow lifts, just slightly. "I was standing still."
I scowl, adjusting my grip on my coffee. "Well, maybe you should rethink your entire presence, then."
His mouth twitches, but he says nothing, stepping aside to let me pass. The fabric of his shirt pulls across his shoulders with the movement, revealing just how well it fits him. Which would be great, except we're heading in the same direction. I bite back an annoyed sigh and follow him into the conference room, where he takes a seat at the long table like he owns the place. His sleeves are pushed up to his elbows now, exposing forearms I’d only gotten a glimpse of earlier. I can see them fully now. The tattoos wind up his skin in intricate designs that disappear beneath rolled cuffs, dark ink against tanned skin. He should absolutely not be allowed to look this good at eight in the morning. I make a mental note to include this in the next edition of the employee handbook.
I clear my throat, tearing my eyes away. "You're early."
His eyes lift to mine. "So are you."
I roll my eyes, moving toward my usual seat—only to stop when I see what's waiting for me.
A brown paper bag. A water bottle. Both placed precisely at what is clearly my designated spot.
I narrow my eyes. "What's this?"
"Breakfast."
His voice is so casual, so completely unbothered, like this is just a thing he does. Like bringing food for his coworker is as natural as breathing.
I lift the bag. The paper crinkles beneath my fingers. "What if I already ate?"
He doesn't blink. "You didn't."
I scowl. "You don't know that."
He gestures at my coffee with a nod. "That's not food."
I huff, dropping into my seat, pretending I don't appreciate the fact that he just...did this. That he thought about me before I even arrived. The chair creaks slightly as I settle into it.
I open the bag, the paper rustling loudly in the quiet room, pulling out a breakfast sandwich wrapped in foil, and hesitate before glancing at him. "Did you eat?"
A smirk tugs at his lips. "You worried about me?"
I scowl, though the heat rising to my cheeks betrays me. "Just making sure you're not some hypocrite with a hero complex."
"Yeah, I ate."
"And slept?"
He leans back in his chair. It’s annoying how attractive he looks doing that. "Did you?"
I frown, unwrapping the sandwich. The aroma of melted cheese and warm bread fills the air. "That wasn't the question."
