Love Bug (The Prescotts Book 3) Page 8

  BetaTestAccount23: Easier said than done. But point taken.

  FreshPrincessOfChelsea: I feel like you need a mood lifter. I have an idea.

  BetaTestAccount23: What’s that?

  FreshPrincessOfChelsea: Are you home right now?

  BetaTestAccount23: Almost. I’m in a cab.

  FreshPrincessOfChelsea: Let’s have a World of Warcraft date.

  BetaTestAccount23: Yeah? You want to meet up online?

  FreshPrincessOfChelsea: Yeah. Let’s go kill some orcs.

  BetaTestAccount23: Now’s probably a bad time to tell you I’m a member of the Society for the Prevention of Orc Cruelty, isn’t it?

  FreshPrincessOfChelsea: Another bleeding heart. Figures.

  FreshPrincessOfChelsea: Message me when you’re home and I’ll send you my battle ID.

  For the first time that night, Max found himself smiling.

  8

  Willa took a fortifying sip of her coffee as she stepped out of the elevator. Tapp’s offices took up several floors in the towering office building on Canal Street, and her office was located toward the back of the uppermost floor. She didn’t have much of a view, and the space was small, but this job was the first one where she had her own office and she was enjoying it. All of her previous jobs had either come with a cubicle or the dreaded open-plan collaborative workspace. She’d spent so long bouncing from contract to contract that she’d been beyond thrilled to land something not only permanent but that came with her own office, health insurance, benefits, and let her do challenging, rewarding work.

  As she walked down the hall, she took another sip of her coffee, wondering if she should’ve gone for the extra large this morning. She’d stayed up until well after midnight playing World of Warcraft with Mr. 23, chatting inside the game while battling bad guys and completing side quests. The hours had flown by, not just because she’d been immersed in the game, but because she liked him. She liked talking to him and getting to know him. In between fights and quests, they’d talked a little bit about their parents—he wasn’t close with his, she was with hers—if they believed in ghosts—he did not, she was open to the possibility—the best shows to binge on Netflix, and video games they’d grown up playing. He was seven years older than her, which meant they were slightly out of sync there, but she’d still liked hearing about what he’d played as a kid.

  She liked him. Quite a bit. So it was only natural that he’d confessed that his love life was a little complicated right now, what with being hung up on another woman. But she couldn’t exactly fault him for that, given that she was talking to him mainly to try to get over Max.

  As she approached her office, she slowed and turned, surveying the people gathered at workstations in the open concept work area that took up the center of the floor. Could any of them be Mr. 23? Sipping her coffee, she narrowed her eyes. There was Matt, one of the technical account managers, but he was too young, definitely still in his twenties. Omar, a user experience designer, was also too young. Christian was another one of the user experience designers, and also too young. Cameron…maybe. He was definitely in his thirties and one of the C++ designers she worked with regularly. She’d always found him a little boring, but…she couldn’t rule him out as Mr. 23. Michael…no. Too young. Liam…also too young. Damn. She hadn’t realized that so many of the guys working here were barely out of college.

  Chris, one of the senior engineers, walked by and shot her a smile. “Morning,” he said, tipping his head in the direction of her coffee. “Did you get my email about the automation infrastructure issues we’re having with the streaming aggregator platform?”

  She shook her head, studying him. Chris was cute, with short dark blond hair, a closely cropped beard and fit physique. He was also probably in his mid to late 30’s and single. She also knew that he’d had a serious girlfriend and had gone through a difficult breakup only a few months ago. Hmm. Interesting.

  “I’ll check as soon as I’m at my desk. I know Max wanted to see a working prototype by June 1st.”

  Chris nodded. “Okay, take a look and let me know. You’re stronger in C++ than I am, so I’m hoping you’ll have some ideas.”

  She smiled at his compliment and nodded. “Thanks. I’ll let you know.” She gave him one last look before turning and heading for her office. After she’d settled in at her desk with her coffee, her notepad for jotting down ideas and thoughts, and her Air Pods in her ears, playing her favorite 80’s playlist, she opened Chris’s email, then pulled up the project files to see if she could figure out what was going wrong.

  The program they were developing was tentatively titled BingeStack, and it was a platform where users could access all of their streaming services—Netflix, Hulu, Disney Plus, HBO Max, etc.—from one spot. All you had to do was search for a title and it would automatically search all platforms to which the user was subscribed and play in a central window. Getting all of the different streaming databases to play nicely together was proving a bigger challenge than they’d anticipated, but she’d always liked a challenge and enjoyed hard work.

  With George Michael, Prince, and Kenny Loggins blasting in her ears, she immersed herself in the lines of code, only ever pulling her attention away to take sips of her cooling coffee. She’d found one string that needed fixing, but was stuck on what else might be going wrong when it came to the biggest infrastructure issues.

  Frowning, she pulled up one of the other files and started going through the lines of code, determined to find the problem. A large, masculine hand waved in front of her face, startling her. Her arms shot out and she knocked over her coffee cup, sending the dregs of it pooling on her desk. Whirling, she found Max standing on the other side of her desk, a tablet and a stack of file folders in his hand. He wore a light blue button-down shirt that set off his eyes, tucked into a pair of black pants that seemed to emphasize his muscular legs. His shirt was open at the collar, giving her the smallest glimpse of skin. Her lips tingled at the memory of the soft warmth of it against her mouth.

  Her heart hammered in her chest as she reached for a box of tissues, plucking out a few to mop up the spreading puddle of coffee. Once she’d tossed them in the trash, she pulled her Air Pods out of her ears, her hands shaking a little. Taking a deep breath, she pressed her fingers against her lips. Her heart was still racing, her skin tingling.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” said Max, his eyebrows raised as he studied her.

  She shook her head, hauling a forced smile into place. “No, it’s fine. I’m just…I don’t like being startled. I guess I’m still jumpy from the…” She trailed off, swallowing thickly. “The invasion.”

  Max’s usually stony features softened and he nodded. “Right. Of course. I’m sorry. I should’ve thought of that.”

  “It’s fine,” she said, waving away his concern. “How can I help you?” He didn’t usually venture into her office, especially without warning, and she knew that his unexpected appearance was part of the reason her pulse was still racing.

  “I sent you an email about needing that preliminary bug report for Blind Date,” he said, his tone neutral. “I wanted to go over it before the meeting this afternoon.”

  “Oh,” she said, disappointment curling through her. She’d hoped that maybe he’d come to talk to her, but no. It was work related. Of course. Why wouldn’t it be? “Right. I’ll get that to you ASAP. Time got away from me this morning,” she said sheepishly. Despite everything that had happened between them, he was still her boss and she owed him competency and professionalism.

  “Great.” He turned to go but then hesitated. “What were you so immersed in just now?”

  Her eyes flicked back to the lines of code on her screen. “BingeStack. We’re having some problems with the automation infrastructure. But don’t worry—Chris and I are both on it and I’m sure we’ll figure it out.”

  He frowned slightly and tilted his head, then gestured at her computer. “Mind if I take a look?”


  “Oh, uh. Sure,” she said, vaulting out of her chair and pulling it away from the desk. It was putting her on edge to have him in her space like this. With a small grin, he set his folders and tablet down on her desk and came around behind it, dropping into her chair. It creaked under his weight and she remembered the feel of all of that muscle on top of her, moving above her, inside her…

  “…don’t get to play in the sandbox much anymore,” he was saying, forcing her back to the present moment and out of her sexy memories of the man sitting behind her desk. She hovered a few feet away from him, watching his large fingers dance over the keyboard. “Let’s see…” He rubbed his fingers over his mouth as he navigated between different files, lines fanning out around his eyes as he squinted slightly. “Are these all of the config files?”

  She nodded. “For the mainframe, yes. We haven’t gotten around to any of the others yet.”

  He nodded and she moved a little closer. The scent of his expensive aftershave hit her, making her stomach explode in butterflies. She curled her fingers into her palms so she wouldn’t do something stupid, like reach out and touch him.

  “Do you mind if I copy and dump this into a separate sandbox? I don’t want to undo what you’ve already got, but I have an idea.”

  “Sure. Go for it,” she said, wrapping her arms around her middle. She couldn’t seem to stand still, feeling restless with the lust spinning through her. God, he was making her squirm and he’d barely even looked at her. For several minutes, he jumped between screens, changing small things here and there, and she had to admit that it was fascinating watching him work. She was highly proficient in C++, but Max was a freaking genius.

  “What if…” he said, still focused on the screen, still typing away, “instead of using configuration orchestration we created a CloudFormation template. That way you’d have—”

  “Rollback triggers to revert the infrastructure stack in the case of an error,” she said, finishing his thought for him. Dammit, why hadn’t she thought of that earlier?

  He turned and grinned at her, and it felt like hot chocolate on a cold day. Warm and sweet and like exactly what she needed. “Right. Then a playback error won’t cause the infrastructure to crash like it’s doing now.”

  She nodded. “Yes. I love it. I’m only sorry I didn’t think of it first.”

  He shrugged. “Sometimes all it takes is a fresh pair of eyes.”

  Before she could stop herself, she laid a hand on his arm, her fingers curling ever so slightly around his impressive bicep. “Thanks for the assist.”

  Looking over his shoulder, his eyes met hers and held, his chest rising and falling steadily. She dropped her hand and glanced away, severing the intense contact.

  He swiveled in the chair so that she was directly in front of him, his knees brushing her legs. Sparks danced across her skin at the fleeting contact, making her feel hot and itchy. If she moved forward only a few inches, she’d be between his legs. She could slide her hands up his broad chest and nuzzle her face into his neck, breathing him in as her lips—

  “I should’ve asked you this a long time ago,” he said quietly, sending butterflies exploding in her stomach yet again. Foolish anticipation pinned her in place. “How are you? After…” He cleared his throat. “The invasion? Are you sleeping okay? Do you feel safe?”

  She closed her eyes for a second, completely unsure what to do with his concern. It made her hope while at the same time she knew that hope was completely idiotic. This didn’t mean anything. He was just being nice. He felt bad for startling her, nothing more.

  She shook her head, licking her lips. Blood rushed to her cheeks and she nodded slowly. “I’m…yeah. I’m okay. I’m still a little shaken, but it’s fading. Moving into Theo’s place helped. Change of scenery or whatever. I’m sleeping okay. I’ve only had one nightmare so far.”

  His brow furrowed. “I’m sorry,” he said, his deep voice rumbling over her, making her want to purr and rub herself all over him like a cat. “But you feel safe, right?”

  She nodded. “I do. I know that what happened isn’t likely to happen again, and thanks to you and your brother, Kayla and I are both fine.” Something charged through her, a need, a push to be brave and honest, and she wasn’t able to stop herself from saying, “I do think about it though. Both the invasion and…and everything else that happened that night.” She studied his face, looking for some kind of reaction. Some indication as to what he was thinking, how he was feeling. But his face remained completely neutral, as usual.

  But then something happened. It started as a just a flicker, a flinch almost, and the light in his eyes shifted to something hot and intense. He licked his lips, his chest rising and falling a bit faster now. “Willa,” he said, his voice raw and gritty. “I’m sorry.”

  She shook her head, not wanting to hear more of his apologies. She wanted something else. Something bigger and more real than just “I’m sorry” for the tenth time.

  She bit her lip and moved the tiniest bit closer. “Do you think about it, Max?” she asked, a tremble in her voice. “Do you think about me? About us, together? Because I do. Almost constantly.”

  He pulled in a shaky breath and his gorgeous features tightened. “Of course I think about it,” he said, his voice quiet and intense. “It’s all I think about.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Everything is you, Willa.”

  She inhaled sharply and laid a tentative hand on his muscled shoulder, his admission fanning the flames of her hope. “See, you say things like that to me but then you throw up walls so high and so thick that you’re completely unreachable. You ignore me for days on end and then ask me if I have nightmares, out of the blue. You want me to think you don’t give a shit about me, but we both know that’s not true. And I don’t know what to do with any of that.”

  He shoved a hand through his hair, leaving a curled lock falling onto his forehead. “Please don’t ever think that I don’t want you. Don’t ever think that.”

  “What am I supposed to think?”

  His nostrils flared as his hand landed on her hip, tugging her the tiniest bit closer. “That I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone, but this—us—it can’t happen. I need to stay away from you, for your own good. I’m not the man you think I am.”

  She swallowed thickly, her heart frantic in her chest. He did want her, as much as she wanted him. That knowledge alone was a tiny piece of joy, stained with rejection.

  “Who are you, Max? What’s happened in your life to make you think you need to wall yourself away from everyone, including me?” Her voice was thin, high with emotion. Hope and fear and need and lust. She moved a little closer, stepping between his legs. His grip on her hip tightened, making a throb start up deep inside her.

  “Trust me when I say you’re better off staying away from me. You need to find someone who can give you what you deserve.”

  “But what about what I want?” She toyed with the open collar of his shirt, tracing her fingers along his collarbone. “What if what I want is you? In my bed? Inside me?”

  He closed his eyes briefly and let out a soft, anguished moan. He caught her wandering fingers in his free hand. “You can’t say things like that to me, Willa.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s taking everything I have right now not to lock that door and fuck you on this desk.”

  “What if that’s what I want too?”

  He clenched his jaw and took his hand from her hip. “I’m sorry. I can’t. Believe me when I say that I wish things were different.”

  She lowered her head, pressing her lips together. Then she nodded and stepped back, giving him enough space to vacate her chair. She swallowed around the lump in her throat, her heart feeling as though it were shrinking in on itself. All of the hope she’d let herself feel ebbed away, like a sandcastle on a wavy shore, disappearing bit by bit with each breath.

  “Me too,” she said softly, taking another step back and then turning to face the wind
ow, staring unfocused out at the glass and steel and brick and concrete surrounding her. It wasn’t that he didn’t want her. At least that was something. But it didn’t change the fact that no matter how she felt about him, no matter how much she wanted him, he’d never be hers. She didn’t know how it was possible, but she felt like she kept losing him, over and over again and each time the loss was sharper and deeper than the time before.

  I’m not the man you think I am.

  What did that even mean? How could he just say something like that and expect her to roll with it, like that was a totally normal, not at all messed up thing to say?

  She turned from the window to ask for answers, but he was already gone.

  FreshPrincessOfChelsea: What do you call a fake noodle?

  BetaTestAccount23: Uh…I dunno.

  FreshPrincessOfChelsea: An im-pasta.

  BetaTestAccount23: Oh, that’s bad. That’s really bad.

  FreshPrincessOfChelsea: What do you call a guy who never farts in public?

  BetaTestAccount23: Polite?

  FreshPrincessOfChelsea: A private tutor.

  BetaTestAccount23: Okay, that was actually kind of funny.

  FreshPrincessOfChelsea: