His Temporary Assistant

Then again, he’d given me hope with Ryan. So, I’d hug the guy all day long.

Well, maybe for another thirty seconds or so.

“Reduced fee,” I added as he moved back.

“Oh, you’re a godsend. Truly.”

I held up a hand when he swooped in again. The damn Irish. They were a touchy-feely sort. “No more hugs. We’ll just call it good.”

He let out a half laugh. “That we will. I appreciate this more than you’ll ever know. My Anna would too.”

“I’m happy to help. Someone has to stand up for what’s right.”

For once, that someone would be me. Thanks to Ryan.

Later that evening, I was standing on my balcony halfheartedly looking through my telescope at the night sky. I had my scotch on the railing and kept moving it every time Smoky decided to stick his face in the glass.

Approximately every two minutes.

“Only a week ago, I’d never seen Ryan in person. Yet I jerked off to her voice.” I blinked as the cat swished his tail. “Pretend you didn’t hear that.”

He jumped down and sashayed back inside. I didn’t blame him. I’d been rambling on and off for the last hour at least.

This waiting thing sucked.

I focused on Vega, the brightest star of the Summer Triangle overhead. I didn’t make a wish, but I thought of how she’d appeared this morning as she looked out the telescope, her bare feet on the same spot on the floor where mine now were. Talking to the cat, who’d listened with rapt attention. All that dark hair blowing in the breeze as her husky laughter rolled out and made me ache.

God, I already ached.

My phone buzzed with a new voicemail. Shit, I’d forgotten to turn the ringer back on. I grabbed it, already grinning.

“Your extended warranty is expiring,” I read aloud, scanning the voicemail transcript.

Biting off an oath, I hit the icon for the trash can.

The next time a text came in, I almost didn’t succumb. The crushing sense of defeat afterward nearly wasn’t worth it. But hope was stubborn.

And flared to life as I gazed at the photo of Ryan and I kissing a few days ago. She didn’t say anything, but she’d sent it.

She was thinking of me too. Thank fuck.

I debated how to reply as I showered. Playing it cool was a valid strategy, but I didn’t want to seem blasé.

Dex would probably send a dick pic. I definitely wasn’t doing that.

I got in my bed in the dark and closed my eyes. She was everywhere. Her honeyed scent all around me. I could feel her in my arms. Her hair against my face. Her warmth an imprint against my skin.

I fumbled for my phone.

Miss Moon,

You did not request time off from work today in advance. I would replace you, but you’re irreplaceable to me.

Sincerely,

PMS,

Esq.