Chapter 9
Willow felt as if everyone in the open-plan office was watching her as Scottie walked toward her with an easy stride, toolbox in hand. Barb definitely was. Her smirk was visible from several cubicles away.
“Morning, Willow.” Scottie’s smile seemed genuine. She didn’t look annoyed at having to fix a printer problem on a Monday morning. “So, just for a nice change of pace, it’s the printer giving you trouble today?”
Willow sighed. “Looks like it.”
Scottie set down her toolbox. “All right. Let’s see what’s going on.” She pulled the paper trays all the way out and set them aside, then peered into the now-empty cavity.
Nothing. Not that Willow had expected otherwise.
Scottie opened the top panel, then the one on the side of the printer.
“I already did that,” Willow said. “There’s no paper anywhere.”
“I’m not doubting you, just double-checking,” Scottie replied. “Sometimes, the tiniest shred of paper can cause a jam.” The muscles in her forearms flexed as she pushed the printer away from the support pillar so she could get to the rear panel.
Willow leaned around the printer so she could see—the interior, not Scottie, of course.
“Nothing here either,” Scottie said from behind the machine. “I think it’s a false sensor reading. Dust or tiny bits of paper on one of the sensor lenses can block the infrared light beam, and that sends a paper jam signal to the main board.”
Willow tried to focus on Scottie’s explanation, but her brain was still busy trying to process the way the short sleeves of Scottie’s company-issued polo shirt had tightened around her arms.
A sound that was half cough, half laugh drifted over from the direction of Barb’s desk.
Willow quickly tore her gaze away and retreated to the other side of the printer.
The last thing she needed was to add to the office gossip.
She was already in enough trouble because she was pretty sure it wasn’t just dust blocking the sensors.
It was her weird aura or whatever made devices malfunction around her.
Scottie climbed out from behind the printer and crouched down in front of the gray beast. Her chinos stretched taut over her strong thighs.
Barb coughed again.
What? She wasn’t ogling Scottie; she was merely watching their IT person repair the printer so she could learn how to do it herself next time.
Scottie’s broad hands were steady and incredibly nimble as she reached into the paper tray bay and gently rotated the paper pickup rollers.
Almost without having to look, she located a small flashlight and a can of compressed air in her tool kit.
She shone the beam into the narrow cavity, angled the can, and gave a few sharp bursts of air.
Then she repeated the process with the second tray.
Next, she opened the front panel, pulled out the heavy toner cartridge, and set it on a sheet of paper, which gave her access to the rollers deeper along the paper path.
She carefully rotated them too, then guided the flashlight’s beam over the interior in search of the sensors.
As she leaned down and ducked her head to peer inside the printer, her lanyard with the company ID badge dangled into the cavity, blocking her view.
Scottie indicated the flashlight and the can of compressed air she was holding.
“Um, my hands are full, and I’ve got toner all over my fingers.
I’d rather not get it on my shirt. Could you… ?” She nodded down at the badge.
“Oh. Yeah, sure.” Willow’s mouth went dry as she stepped closer. Christ, calm down. She asked you to get the badge out of the way, not to undress her!
But her body didn’t listen. Heat emanated from Scottie, making Willow’s own temperature skyrocket in response.
The smell of toner and the invigorating scent of Scottie’s cedar shampoo filled her nose.
She willed her fingers not to tremble as she reached into the printer, careful not to touch Scottie’s hand or any part of the machine so she wouldn’t zap either.
Her fingers closed around the ID badge’s thin plastic. It was warm from where it had rested against Scottie’s chest. Don’t you dare think about her chest!
Finally, she managed to fish the badge out of the printer’s interior. Then she froze, not sure what to do with it since the lanyard still rested around Scottie’s neck. “Should I slip it around to your back?”
“Not a good idea. Mateo did that once and nearly strangled himself when the lanyard caught on something.” Scottie’s voice sounded lower, huskier, but that was probably because she was half-buried inside the printer. “It’s safer to just stick it under my shirt, where it can’t get in the way.”
Safer? Willow mentally repeated. Reaching beneath Scottie’s shirt felt anything but. Slowly, she lifted the badge.
The top two buttons on the polo shirt were undone, leaving enough space to guide the ID inside.
Her fingers brushed the soft cotton of Scottie’s collar as she slipped the badge past a triangular patch of creamy skin into the shirt’s opening. She tucked it beneath the warm fabric and lingered for a moment—only to make sure the plastic card wouldn’t slip back out, of course.
Scottie held very still, her chest not even rising and falling against Willow’s fingers.
Quickly, Willow withdrew and stepped back.
Scottie cleared her throat. “Thanks.” She aimed the can into the guts of the machine and sent a few puffs of air toward the sensor.
Maybe Scottie should direct the can’s nozzle at her instead. Willow could have used a blast of air to cool down.
“Could you hand me the microfiber cloth and one of the alcohol wipes from my tool kit?” Scottie’s voice ripped her from her thoughts.
Willow gave herself a mental kick and went in search of the items, glad to have a reason to turn away from Scottie for a moment. When she handed them over, she was careful not to let their fingers brush.
“Thanks.” Scottie used the wipe to scrub the toner residue from her fingers, then reached deeper into the machine with the microfiber cloth, probably cleaning the sensor lens.
Then she moved to the smaller panel that handled the double-sided printing and repeated the process, followed by the sensors in the rear.
Once she was done, she clicked the toner cartridge back into place, closed all panels, and reseated the paper trays. Finally, she plugged the printer back in and turned it on.
Both craned their necks as they watched it power up.
Willow peeked at the control display.
The infuriating error message was gone. Ready to print, it said instead.
She pumped her fist. “We did it! Uh, I mean you!”
Scottie grinned at her. Her cheeks were flushed, probably from the exertion of pushing the heavy machine back into its place against the support pillar. “Not so fast. Now comes the real moment of truth. Let’s try printing.”
Willow rushed to her desk to resend the print job.
She was about to join Scottie at the printer again but then stopped herself.
It was better to stay back, in case it had been her weird aura, not the dust, that had interfered with the sensors.
She leaned against a filing cabinet, trying to inconspicuously keep her distance.
Scottie pulled a sheet of paper from the printer, then carried it toward Willow.
“Did it print correctly?” Willow asked.
“Sure did. Check it out.” Scottie handed her the document.
This time, Willow was too slow to pull back a little or to ground herself on a metal object. When their fingers brushed, a jolt of energy shot through her hand. Tiny shock waves rippled along her skin, all the way up to her chest. The sheet of paper slid from her grasp and floated to the floor.
Scottie stared at her fingers, then at Willow. “That was intense.”
“It’s the carpet,” Willow blurted.
“And her shoes,” Barb added from her desk, the biggest smirk on her face.
“Yes.” Willow nodded several times.
Scottie rubbed her fingers, bent, and picked up the document.
This time, they were both careful not to touch when she handed it over.
“Remind me to bring an antistatic spray for the carpet next time I’m up here,” Scottie said.
It sounded as if she already took it for granted that Willow would have to call her for help again.
Unsettlingly, she was probably right.
Even more unsettling, though: Willow realized a part of her didn’t mind at all. She was looking forward to seeing Scottie again. Shit.
~ ~ ~
Scottie’s fingers still tingled as she hit the button for the first floor to pick up some cookies from the cafeteria. Gordon and Mateo needed the sugar rush, and she needed some time away from it all to get herself together.
As soon as the metal doors closed behind her, she sank against the elevator’s mirrored wall. She savored the coolness seeping into her overheated skin for a few moments before she turned and stared at her reflection.
“What was that?” she asked the person in the mirror.
Of course, she didn’t get a reply.
The jolt that had shot through her at the brush of their fingers wasn’t the only thing that unsettled her.
Even before that, the air between them had felt charged with more than just static electricity.
If she was honest with herself, she knew what it had been: sizzling attraction.
She could diagnose it as easily as she could pinpoint a disconnected Ethernet cable or a failing hard drive.
The moment in front of the printer was seared into her mind, with Willow so close that she could catch the faint scent of her body lotion and feel the heat radiating off her body.
What on earth had possessed her to tell Willow to stick the badge under her shirt?
Why hadn’t she set down the flashlight or the can of compressed air for a moment to get the ID out of the way herself?
Or told Willow to take off the badge altogether?
Either option would have been much faster—and less torturous.
Willow’s fingers had grazed her collar. She hadn’t even touched her skin, and yet the phantom sensation still lingered.
The images that had flashed through Scottie’s mind in that moment were definitely not safe for work.
She had pictured that slim hand sliding more deeply beneath her shirt, trailing down with aching slowness to cup her breast.
Scottie let out a soft groan and forced her thoughts in a different direction—to that zap of energy when their fingers had brushed.
That should have been a wake-up call. Warning: System error. Do not proceed.
She wasn’t ready to jump into something else; her head knew that, even if her body had apparently forgotten.
The self-help article she’d read a while ago had said the same.
It advised staying single for one month for each year of a relationship that had short-circuited, and those ten months of singledom weren’t up yet.
Her heart wasn’t done rebooting, so she couldn’t trust it yet.
Until she could, it was safer to keep her interactions with Willow strictly professional.
When the metal doors slid open on the first floor, she pushed away from the wall and got out of the elevator.
Still, the tingling in her fingers and the phantom touch on her chest followed her all the way to the cafeteria and then back to her office.
~ ~ ~
Willow dropped onto her chair. She gripped her mouse more tightly than necessary, but it did nothing to chase away the lingering tingle in her fingers.
“Sparks again?” Barb commented with a smirk the size of Kudos’s parking lot.
“You need a hobby,” Willow grumbled.
Barb chuckled. “I’ve got one.”
“Spying on your co-workers?”
“That and drawing annoyingly accurate conclusions from what I’m observing. I’ll really miss it once I retire.” Barb’s sigh was probably meant to be humorously dramatic but came across as genuine.
“The colleagues you’re spying on will really miss you too,” Willow said quietly.
And she would. Even though she had settled in well and had learned a lot in the past two weeks, she didn’t even want to think about handling all of the complex processes by herself yet. Plus she had to admit she liked Barb.
In previous jobs, she had always been careful to keep her distance from her co-workers, worried they would notice how often she got in trouble with tech if she let anyone get close.
But since Barb was training her, that wasn’t an option.
And maybe she didn’t want it to be. It felt unexpectedly nice to have a friendly connection with a colleague instead of keeping things strictly business.
“Come over here.” Barb waved as if wanting to shoo away both of their sad thoughts. “I’m going to show you how to double-check a supplier’s invoice against our purchasing order so we’re not paying for more resin than we actually received.”
Willow scrambled up from her desk so quickly that she almost sent her chair spinning into the wall. She rushed over to Barb’s cubicle, glad for the distraction.
Work she could handle. At least invoices and purchase orders wouldn’t make her heart race the way it had back at the printer.