New Year's Steve

My hormones can overlook it.

Althoughhhh… Steve could very well be a catfish or serial killer while Harry is obviously real and has been vetted by HR.

STOP, Felicity. Give Steve a chance before jumping ship and jumping Harry.

And before you do either of those things, finish this report.

You are here to work, not work on finding a boyfriend!

I push my glasses back up my nose and continue cross-referencing numbers, making quick work as I go. It’s amazing what a little distraction free lighting can do for my productivity. Too bad the heaters seemed to have kicked off again.

Leaning over, I put all my brainpower into this report as I pull to get the bottom drawer of my desk open.

I yank. I jiggle it.

I heave.

The damn thing is always stuck!

“Ugh,” I grunt as it finally gives way, scowling into it. “Are you in cahoots with the tampon machine in the restroom? I swear it sticks just like this. Isn’t that a medical hazard or something? I should probably call Skeeter again.”

I grab the blanket I have stored for days like today and wrap the zebra print around my shoulders. My office is the perfect temperature during the summer months, but around this time of year, it’s like the heater stops working.

Sufficiently bundled, I take a quick sip of my milk.

“Ahh.” Delicious.

Yep. Still ice cold. It’s going to be a long winter if this office is such an ice box it keeps beverages cool, but oh well. I got the most pressing issue fixed today. I call that a win.

“Knock knock.”

Speaking of winning…

It’s Harry, sticking his handsome, smiling face inside my office.

“Hello there stranger.”

Oh god. Did I just say that, in a ridiculous flirty voice? Seriously, do I never interact with people or is it only the hot ones I’m attracted to that I struggle with?

Why can’t I be hip?

If he notices that I’m awkward, he ignores it and stands there grinning down at me, leaning against the door jam in that way men do when they want to be relaxed and sexy at the same time. All he’s missing is a plaid flannel shirt, rolled up to his elbows and a tan from working outside.

But relaxed and sexy? He’s definitely both.

“How’s the new lightbulb working for you?”

Fantastically. “I will admit, it’s a lot easier to get this end of the year reporting done when there isn’t a constant flashing reflecting off my screen.”

“Good. It’s New Year’s Eve.” The dimple appears in his chin. “I’m sure you have big plans you don’t want to miss.”

I quirk an eyebrow at him and our gazes lock. Is he… fishing for information about me? Should I tell him I’m unattached and single? Steve doesn’t count, we haven’t even met, yet.

Still, guilt prickles at my stomach until the truth spills out. “As a matter of fact, I do have plans. All the more reason I appreciate you helping me out. I’m sure you have big plans for the evening as well.”

Alright. Most of the truth spills out.

Harry nods. “I do. Been looking forward to tonight for a few weeks now.”

An odd pang of jealousy hits me out of nowhere. There is no doubt in my mind this super attractive man has a date, probably with someone as equally attractive, because that’s what pretty people do. Ugh. Who is he spending tonight with?

Is she beautiful?

Is she his one and only? Are they in love?

These are thoughts I shouldn’t be having; there’s not a single reason to have them. I am going on a date with Steve. I’m interested in Steve. So why do I feel like there’s a weird and strong connection to Harry?

“Well, don’t let me keep you. I’m sure you need to be on your way, to change and stuff.” I give his jeans and scrappy, sweat stained outfit a once over.

Not that I’d toss him out of bed, but the man needs a shower.

Instead of leaving, he cocks his head and studies me in return.

“Why are you bundled up like you’re in a snowstorm?”

The question catches me off guard.

For a maintenance man who probably has a list of things to get done before his hot date, he sure is taking an interest in my well-being.

“I don’t think the heating unit blows hard enough to reach all the way in here. It gets cold in the winter months.” I shiver. “That’s how the bunnies ended up here.”

I wiggle my feet in his direction and his lips quirk to one side. Pushing off the wall, he makes his way over to my desk and looks up, standing so close to me I can smell him, hands on his hips.

He smells like fried food and musk with a slight tinge of sweat. It’s oddly, not an offensive odor. Kind of makes me want to climb him like a tree and see exactly how rough those hands can be.