Page 41 of Best Served Hot

She paused and looked over at him, as if waiting for him to protest. He didn’t say anything. She asked me, “And you’re okay with that?” She was picking at one of her cuticles again. Once, Mr. Decker had asked me if I’d be able to make her stop, but fortunately, he’d forgotten about it. “Because your social media is really important to you! Doesn’t it hurt your feelings?” She turned and stared at Bennett again.

My stomach flipped at how hard she was picking. She was going to draw blood if she wasn’t careful. “I think everybody has their own thing.” My voice was careful. If she’d asked me this question only a week ago, I probably would’ve taken the opportunity to go all in on Bennett, snarking about how he thought he was better than me and most of society, how pretentious he was being. Now? I didn’t want to. “As long as he doesn’t disrespect me or what I’m doing, he’s allowed to like what he likes. For example, I think opera just sounds like screaming, but if somebody’s a fan of opera, great! More power to them.”

She stared at Bennett again—no, she glared. This time, Bennett sighed. “I don’t think social media is stupid. And I have respect for influencers. Maybe I didn’t a few weeks ago, but seeing all that Julie did, all she’s doing . . .” He trailed off, making my cheeks prickle. “Anyway. I prefer to stay off social media thanks to something that happened in college, when a friend—well, ‘friend’—posted pictures of me out partying, which got back to my dad, who was furious. After that, I decided it wasn’t worth the trouble.”

“I get it,” I said. Once, I’d taken a picture with my arm around my (male) cousin, which my then boyfriend had seen and gotten super weird and jealous about. Which really ended up with me determining that social media was great, since I was rid of him after that. “It’s cool.”

Emerson Leigh sighed dramatically. “Well, finally. I thought I’d have to hint for ages to get him to say something to clear that up. Now you guys can get along, right?” She looked from him to me, me to him.

I opened my mouth to tell her that we already were getting along but stopped before any words came out. Maybe he’d been the one telling her we weren’t getting along because I thought he looked down at what I did.

Aw. That was so nice of her.

And then she had to go and ruin it. “Julie, I think I left something in the copy room. Can you go find it for me?” She fluttered a hand and placed the back of it gently on her forehead, as if she were just too exhausted.

Irritating. Patronizing. But I worked for her father, and I couldn’t say no. “What is it, Emerson Leigh?” I asked through gritted teeth as I rose.

She hesitated long enough that I had to hesitate, too, only a few feet away from Bennett. I didn’t want to look at him, which meant looking down, which meant focusing in on his hands instead, on how it had felt to hold one, which ultimately was worse than looking into his eyes. “Oh, you’ll know it when you see it,” she said finally.

I hoped it wasn’t one of her clients. I cursed wildly and creatively inside my head as I stepped inside the small, narrow copy room, filled most of the way by the giant copier and stacks of paper and miscellaneous office supplies and extra Ellen’s Promise merch Mr. Decker didn’t want cluttering up his office. Bennett had probably done this exact same thing before, sent some employee, someone just like me, in search of something he didn’t even—

“Julie?” I spun around to find the man himself stepping inside the room after me. The door clicked shut behind him.

I was suddenly aware of how unbearably tight it was in here. Just by coming inside, he was only a few feet away. I crossed my arms over my chest, like that would increase the distance. Make him less likely to see me as an employee. “What is it?” I asked tightly. “Did I take too long? Did Emerson Leigh also want me to bring her a”— I cast my eyes around—“baseball cap with the Ellen’s Promise logo?”

“She said I should come help, too—that you might not be able to see it by yourself.” He glanced around the room gingerly. “I don’t see anything that I recognize as hers, though.”

To look anywhere else but on the counters right beside me or on the copier, I’d have to step closer to him. My entire body flushed at the thought. “It’s okay, I think I got it. You can go.”

“Okay.” He twisted himself around and pushed at the door. Then pushed at the door again, jiggling the handle. “Uh-oh. I think it’s jammed.”

“You probably just didn’t push it hard enough. The handle is finicky.”

He stepped aside, leaving just enough room for me to push my way through. Not enough room for me to stand there without touching him, though. A lot of him. It was almost like we were spooning standing up, my back against the soft length of his front. I paused for a moment before jiggling the handle myself, luxuriating in the way it made me feel protected. Safe. Even though there was nothing in here I needed protecting from, except maybe myself.

I slammed myself against the handle. He was right: it wouldn’t turn. So I banged on the door. “Emerson Leigh?” I called. No response. I banged again. “Emerson Leigh! Emerson Leigh, can you hear me?”

Still no response. Nerves prickled all over my skin, or maybe those were goose bumps, because Bennett was still touching me. “You could go over there, you know,” I said.

“I can’t,” he said. “You’re blocking the way.”

I spun around, and now heat throbbed all through me from my chest down between my legs, because we were front to front, and my eyes met his with a spark that sizzled, and his voice was husky as he said, “We might die in here.”

There are worse places to die, I thought, nestled against his chest, and then I said it out loud. I could feel rather than hear his laugh. And then I was looking up at him, and he was looking down at me, and he asked the question with his eyes, and I answered it, and he bent down, and I lifted my chin and then we were kissing.

Kissing. I was kissing Bennett.

His lips were soft against mine at first, gentle, exploring. But I craved more. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and pulled him closer, kissed him harder, parted my lips and let his tongue slip inside.

I was kissing Bennett.

He made a little noise deep in his throat, a growl or a purr, as he slid his hands down my body to my waist. They touched the exposed slice of skin between my blouse and skirt and God that flash of tingly heat made me gasp. Made me want more. Made me want him.

“Julie.” My name was a plea. I answered him with another kiss, curled myself into him so tight I didn’t know if I’d be able to untangle myself from his warm skin and soft curls and the gentle flex of his biceps as he held tight to me.

I didn’t want to, though. I wanted to wrinkle that pressed button-down, slip my hand beneath it and trace the divot running down his back, bite his earlobe and feel him shiver. I wanted to—

The door swung open. Emerson Leigh stood there silhouetted against the office, hands on hips. She was smirking, face satisfied like a cat who’d snagged a full salmon fillet from the table. “Found the key!”