Chapter Two
two
Izzy
I hitched the tote bag over my shoulder and headed for the elevators, feeling downright giddy over the way my first day was going so far. I’d spent all morning with my team, shadowing the HR Generalist whose position I was filling, and it’d been—no joke—fun.
Seriously.
Everyone in the department seemed to get along, the work appeared to be challenging but not too stressful, and I actually had an (incredibly small) office with my name on the door.
Yes, I had already taken multiple photos.
In addition to that little nugget of fantasticality, Incite Fitness—the city’s hottest health club—was located on the twelfth floor of the building next door, and Ellis employees were able to use it for free. For. Free. So I’d just run three miles on the treadmill, showered, and brushed my teeth, which left me more than ready for part two of my amazing day.
I could see the elevator doors were starting to close.
“Wait!” I yelled, just in case someone was listening and wanted to be nice. I expected nothing, so when a big hand reached out and stopped the doors, I very nearly squealed with delight.
Could the day get any better?
“Thank you,” I sang as I ran over and hopped into the elevator.
“No problem,” the person inside said, “What fl—”
“Oh. My. God.” I couldn’t believe it. I stared at the guy and couldn’t believe my eyes. It was Mr. Chest from Starbucks. In my elevator. I think my mouth was once again hanging open in his presence as I breathlessly managed to form the words, “It’s you .”
He was still wearing his fancy suit, but the tips of his hair were wet, like he’d just showered, and I could smell his soap. He looked just as surprised to see me as I was to see him, but then his mouth turned up into one of those toe-curling, genuinely happy smiles that always bumped an exceptionally handsome man right up to a work of art. He said in that ridiculously deep voice, “Talk about your small worlds.”
The elevator doors slid closed, and he gestured with his thumb to the floor buttons.
“Oh. Yeah. Lobby, please,” I said, even though I was so shocked I could barely remember how to language. All morning, I’d been forcing myself not to think about Mr. Chest because not only did I need to focus on the new job, but there was also no way in hell a Starbucks meet-cute would ever pan out into something real.
But now—here he was.
Dun-Dun-Duuuun.
“So, um,” he said. “Do you work around here, or do you belong to this gym?”
“I was working out,” I started, but then he nodded and cut me off.
“Okay, I don’t normally do this sort of thing, but someone’s going to get on this elevator any minute now so I have to talk fast.”
His face was purposeful and intense, but his mouth was relaxed, like he was enjoying our situation. I watched the numbers lighting up on the display over the doors as we descended.
11–10–9...
Please don’t stop, please don’t stop.
“I know we’re strangers,” he said, his eyes so focused on me that I felt like fixing my hair or fidgeting with my lip gloss. “But—”
8–7–6...
Talk faster before someone gets on!
“I can’t stop thinking about—”
5 – 4 – 3...
I reached out and hit the emergency button behind him.
The elevator car jolted to a stop, which made Mr. Chest stop talking as I stumbled closer to him. Had I really just done that? I watched his eyes narrow a fraction, and a wrinkle appeared in between his brows.
“No, no—I’m not stopping for creepy reasons,” I said quickly, shaking my head and putting up my hands. “I swear I’m not like that bunny boiler from Silence of the Lambs , trying to seduce you in an elevator or something. It’s just that I—”
“ Fatal Attraction ,” he said.
“What?”
“The bunny boiling was in Fatal Attraction ,” he repeated, and the wrinkle of concern disappeared as his mouth twitched.
“Oh, yeah— Fatal Attraction . Duh.” I rolled my eyes and said, “I just really want to hear what you have to say without reaching the ground floor first. That’s all, I promise.”
“What I have to say...” He stepped a little closer, but not in an intimidating way. It was more... intimate. It reminded me of the way Darcy said Mr. Wickham? and stepped closer to Elizabeth during his rain proposal in the hand-flex version of Pride and Prejudice . I offhandedly wondered if I was going to faint dead away for the first time in my life as he put his hands in the pockets of his suit pants and said, “I have meetings all afternoon, but can I please call you later?”
Yes, yes, a thousand times, yes.
“On the telephone?” I noticed he had perfect eyebrows as I said, “Like a psycho?”
“Well, I’m shit with the emojis,” he said, looking half serious and a little boyish.
“Send a lot of accidental eggplants?”
“No,” he laughed.
“Use the same tired cry-laughing smiley for everything like a total wank?”
“Is that a wank thing to do?”
“Absolutely it is.”
“Well, then, um, yes.” His eyes were on mine as he said, “But honestly, all wankiness aside—”
“Wankitude,” I corrected. “Or is it wankery? Wanktasticality?”
“Wankiness,” he repeated, shutting down my babbles. “All wankiness aside, I rather like hearing the voice of the person I’m talking to.”
I felt like I needed garlic or some type of dagger I could plunge into Mr. Chest’s chest as protection, because statements like that were a straight-up assault on my ovaries. He rather liked hearing the person’s voice?
Just take my heart now, you gorgeous wanker.
“I’ll give you my number,” I said, trying not to seem too eager. “But I have no promises on the whole phone thing. I fear I may start mashing the numerical keypad and shouting emoji names at random out of confusion.”
“ Eggplant, eggplant ?” he said with an absolute straight face.
“Our conversation will have to take a pretty wild turn for that to be my emoji-shout of choice, but you never know.” I looked down at his shirt. “Do you have a closet full of fresh shirts at your office, or did you have to go home after I drizzled your Calvin Klein?”
“I ran home.”
I still felt bad about that. “Please tell me you live close to Starbucks.”
“You seem pretty interested in my personal information,” he said, his eyes getting a teasing glint that made me want to ruffle his hair. “You sure you’re not a bunny boiler?”
I tilted my head and wondered if he had pets. “Do you have a bunny?”
An eyebrow went up. “Why do you want to know?”
“I’m fascinated by the pets people keep,” I admitted, my eyes wandering all over his face. “And if you told me you had a bunny, I think I’d find you to be the most interesting man in this elevator.”
He smiled a little more and his dimples popped.
Fucking dimples.
I’m going to need that dagger STAT.
He said, “Words cannot express how much I regret to inform you that I am not one in possession of a rabbit.”
I bit down on my lower lip to hold in the laugh, worried my interest in him was as subtle as a neon Times Square billboard. “It is tragic, but perhaps you might consider adopting one...?”
He leaned a little closer and just like that, there was white-hot electricity in the elevator. Our faces were close, and I was very aware all of a sudden that we were alone in a stopped elevator car. My oxygen was now his freshly showered scent and I wanted to breathe it in until I hyperventilated. His voice was quieter and seemed a bit huskier when he said, “Swear to God if I didn’t already have a cat, I’d be begging you to go with me to the shelter and pick out a bunny this very minute.”
“You have... a cat?” I asked in a near whisper, defeated with the realization that even a dagger through the heart couldn’t protect me if Mr. Chest was a cat guy.
“I have two,” he said, and then he grinned.
A dirty grin.
He knew. Somehow he knew he was killing me and my lady parts with his felinial affiliations.
“You’re the worst,” I said, no longer able to hold in the smile.
“I’m gonna need that number,” he replied, pulling out his phone and waiting. “STAT.”
“Well STAT is very serious business.” I’d barely gotten out all ten of my digits when the call button in the elevator car started ringing at us.
“We should probably turn this thing back on before the authorities arrive,” he said. His jaw clenched and unclenched and I kind of wanted to watch that for hours.
“Yeah,” I agreed, taking a step away from him and touching my lips. “I don’t want to have to answer that call.”
“Afraid of panicking and screaming evil smile ?” he asked as he depressed the emergency stop button.
“Among other things, yes.” The elevator car lurched and started moving again, and as I watched the number display start counting down again, I wondered what he’d do if I reached around him and pressed it yet again.
I mean, I would never , but it was definitely an interesting fantasy.