His Temporary Assistant

I laughed as I unlocked my car and slipped inside. The interior was like the surface of the freaking sun. I turned on the car and blasted the AC. My new possible purchase was seeming smarter all the time.

PMS: No names, I promise. And you really shouldn’t be so crass.

Dex: But you didn’t deny it. Go big or go home, right? Even your toe knows that.

I smiled as I replied.

PMS: Thanks. Later.

I quickly called the tattoo place and asked to make an appointment, which struck the guy on the other end of the line as odd. He told me to come in two hours from now and that was that.

All at once, I had a packed schedule this evening. Now I could just hope my last stop of the night appreciated all these changes.

And if she didn’t, well, I would.

Go big toe or go home.

Eighteen

I unfolded myself from my cross-legged position. My back—and other tender things—reminded me that drawing on my bed was stupid. But I hadn’t been able to settle since I left work.

More than a bit early, to be honest, but I didn’t care. My level of overwhelm was in the red-line zone. Drawing was usually the only way for me to handle it. Yet even my little fox couldn’t lure me in like she usually did.

Roz, my human character, was even snarkier than usual.

I tossed my iPad and iPencil on my twisted sheets before heading into my kitchen for something cold. I’d tried to call Luna, but she had clients until late evening. I really didn’t want to have to explain my jangling nerves to my best friend. She was far too astute.

It was just sex.

And okay, it had been more than a few months since I’d gotten naked—or partially naked—with a guy. I stayed in my own lane most of the time. Between work and the web comic, I just didn’t have the mental space to date.

It was also too damn hot to think about getting naked with people.

Didn’t stop you from doing it in the records room, chick.

I rubbed my hands over my face. I’d taken a shower as soon as I got home and stripped down to the basics, choosing a long, shapeless dress that was super light, and I’d l

et my hair air-dry into its natural waves.

But even my ancient dress felt like too much. My skin was still buzzing from PMS’s touch and it had been hours ago.

Usually, a shower reset me. It was how I ended my work day and switched to my creative brain side. Right now, I was drowning in flashbacks from the records room.

His mouth.

His fingers.

The way he held me like I was breakable one moment, then proved to me I was invincible the next.

But then I’d left and he hadn’t texted me, not even after finding my present. Which actually he’d bought for himself, but whatever. It was the thought that counted, right?

Unless he was already regretting what we’d done…

“Stop it,” I ordered myself as I swung open the refrigerator door. I pulled out a pitcher of ice water loaded with citrus slices and filled a thermal cup. I had a million things to do and none of them included Preston Michael Shaw.

I sat at my kitchen table and opened my laptop. My email was mocking me with that ugly number of unread messages. I shook my hair back. I could answer some emails.

“Alexa, play work playlist.”