Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
HAYDEN
Present
“Yes, finally!” Triumphantly, I slammed the print button on the computer and rushed over to the office printer to grab my article as it popped out of the machine. This piece on the hurricane was heartbreaking to write about, but more people should be aware of the dangers and to always be prepared. Especially considering how much damage was inland this time from Hurricane Helene. Most people don’t realize how much damage water can cause. Even deep in the mountains like we were, hurricanes could still cause major issues.
I snatched up the article and moved around the corner of the cubicles to head toward the double doors that led to the higher ups’ offices. I passed other journalists who were knee-deep in their own stories when I heard my name being called.
“Where are you off to in such a hurry?” my coworker Dennis asked as he popped his head out of the cubicle when I passed by.
“Gotta get this article to Marsha before she gets pissed off at me. You know she wants a paper copy on her desk as soon as it’s hot off the printers.”
Dennis rolled his eyes with a smirk. “I swear, you do more work for her than anyone I’ve ever seen.”
Waving the still-warm printed article in my hands, I held it up and grinned. “One of these days, she’s going to give me the assistant editor position. I just know it. It might take this article, or it may be the next one. I just never know.”
Dennis had worked here as long as I had. Even though it had only been a year, I was confident in my ability to be considered for the assistant editor position. Nobody else in the office had more clicks on their articles than me. Not bragging, just stating facts.
“You’re going to work yourself to the bone, sweet cheeks.”
“That’s the plan. Gotta make an impression, ya know?” My watch beeped with my five-minute warning. I gasped and gave Dennis an apologetic smile. “Shit, gotta run.”
Bolting out the door, I heard a muffled “good luck” from him before the door clicked shut behind me. Why did the editor offices have to be on the other side of the damn floor? This massive office building held banks, real estate offices, and even a couple of law firms, but of course, ours had to be at the very top and separate from the rest of the writers.
Separation for the elite and who wants to be the elite, I guessed.
I had to get this article to Marsha’s hands by the 2:30 deadline or she was never going to give me another chance.
Marsha wasn’t a bad boss; she was just strict. And she genuinely wanted her writers to succeed. It took me two point five seconds to realize that about her. She was strict, stern, and not one to beat around the bush when it came to her stories.
Impressing her was crucial. I didn’t want to piss her off by being late on a story. I had never been late before and I never will.
Waving hello to the receptionist as I passed by, I kept sprinting across the floor until I got to the executives’ section.
Oomph .
My body collided with something hard, warm, and muscular, and I fell to the floor. The impact felt like a bolt a lightning shooting through my entire body, and it felt nice. I have never had that happen before. Not since the last time I had the gentlest touch by him .
“Sorry, ma’am. Didn’t mean to run into you like that.”
My whole body froze. I knew that voice. It was so familiar, yet darker and huskier than I remembered. The soft spoken, deep timbre of a voice that I thought about way more than I cared to admit. It was the type of voice that would make millions in the audiobook industry. And I knew exactly who it belonged to.
I looked up, and my heart dropped to the pit of my stomach. “Colt?”
He smirked, then reached down to help me up. God help me. This man’s smile was still dangerous to women’s panties everywhere. Even many years later.
“Been a long time, Hay.”
“It has.” Colt nodded then looked down at the article in my hands. “You’re a journalist now?”
Straightening my papers, I replied, “Yeah, I am. But I won’t be for long if I don’t get this article down to Marsha’s office. She’s the senior editor of the paper.”
He bobbed his head slightly then gestured over his shoulder. “Yeah, I just left her office actually. She wanted to talk to me.”
As if I could conjure her out of mid-air, she popped her head out of her office and looked up and down the hallway.
“Oh, Hayden! There you are. Glad you could finally make it on time for once.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m always on time, Marsha.”
She pursed her perfectly lined lips, lifted her arm, and looked down at her watch. “Really? Well, I’m seeing it’s now ten minutes past when your article was due. You know I like to go through them with a fine-toothed comb before they go to print.”
Cautiously, I handed over my story to her. She skimmed over it, then to my surprise, gave a slight smile. “This is good. As always. But you know I need to go over it with my trusty red pen first. And I see you met Mr. Beckett. I hope you’ve been showing him around?”
She poised it like a question and as confused as I was by Marsha’s antics most days, today I was even more confused. “Was I supposed to be?”
“Yes! I would imagine so since I’m making you the lead writer on interviewing Mr. Beckett here.”
“What?” Colt and I said at the same time. We locked eyes for a second and it seemed like we were both surprised by the other's reaction.
Marsha cocked a delicately sculpted eyebrow and smirked. “Yes, Hayden. I want you to interview Mr. Beckett. He’s done so much good around here and more people need to see it!”
Colt chuckled at Marsha’s praise, and I thought maybe she was laying it on a bit thick.
“I want a full feature written up by the end of the week. Three thousand words. It’s going to be the star of the paper. Every newspaper in the area has been hoping to interview him, and I finally got him to agree to an interview for us.” If she could pat herself on the back, I was sure she would right about now.
Colt brushed up against my arm, causing a tingle to run up and down the length of it.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure we can work something out,” he said, with a shit-eating grin on his too-good-looking face. Even after all this time, he still managed to pull a reaction from me. Damn him.
Marsha grinned like the cat who ate the canary. “Excellent! Write it however you want. Interviews, day in the life, whatever. Just make our handsome bachelor fly off the page.”
Before I could protest this, say I wasn’t qualified to interview somebody like him, let alone him, or get too hung up on the word ‘bachelor’, she turned and walked back toward her office. She didn’t know the history between us, or how weird this would be. Fantastic. I opened and closed my mouth quickly, wanting to say something, but not wanting to make this any more awkward than it already was. Before she could shut the door, she waved my hurricane preparedness story around. “I’ll have the edits back on your desk in an hour.” Then the door slammed shut.
As soon as we were alone in the hallway again, aside from the receptionist, who was back around the corner, I wanted to tell Colt about how this was probably not the best idea, and how it was best for somebody else, all of that.
Before I could utter a word, he held up a hand. “I don’t want you to write the story.”
Wait, what?