How the hell was she supposed to know Tim Cook’s email address? Did Roger think she and good old Timmy Apple traded The Bachelor memes on a regular basis?
She opened her laptop and waited for Slack to load.
SLACK MESSAGE FROM CHARLOTTE THORNE TO AUBREY PAGE, 3:02 PM: I just messaged Roger, I don’t have it. Tell him to look through his phone.
She skimmed her inbox for fires demanding her immediate attention, or anything from HR about the art department job. The project manager gig would utilize Charlotte’s skills at herding unruly people. Keeping a detailed spreadsheet of incoming requests for art for the magazine wouldn’t feed her soul, but it was better than constantly worrying about Roger tweeting something offensive. She would report to the art director, a boring but civil man named Pietre who did not call his direct reports after hours.
Matt and Jio brushed crumbs off the empty cheese platter and into the grass. Misty sniffed around for morsels to snack on. “We’re going to get some water,” Matt said quietly, not wanting to disturb Jackie. “Can you watch our stuff?”
Charlotte nodded. She watched as the duo walked back to Randall, Jio’s arm slung around Matt’s waist.
Her computer made the tock-tock notification sound.
SLACK MESSAGE FROM AUBREY PAGE TO CHARLOTTE THORNE, 3:10 PM: lol ok
How professional.
“Good news?”
Charlotte looked up from the screen. Reece stood beside her, his hands at his hips. The sun burst just over his shoulder, silhouetting him in gold. With difficulty, she averted her eyes from the rope of muscle in his shoulders. “Not exactly. My boss has separation anxiety.”
Reece frowned as he sat down in the grass next to her. No, Reece didn’t sit. He sprawled, his legs long and his feet bare, toes wiggling in the sun. He leaned his weight back on his palms, fingers spreading through the grass. This was a guy who knew how to relax.
“That sucks,” Reece commiserated, his eyes bright. “Want to see a puppy?”
Charlotte pushed her computer off her lap and onto the blanket. “Always.”
He took out his phone and scooted closer. His shoulder brushed hers as he scrolled through his photo roll. Charlotte bit her lip. She could smell him again, that boyish aroma of laundry and coffee, now with the earthy sheen of sweat. His posture gave no hint that he was upset about last night, or that he even remembered their close call outside her room. She was aware of every touching millimeter of skin while Reece showed no sign that their proximity even crossed his mind.
“Here we go.” He turned the screen toward her. A wrinkled blob of short gray fur peered back at her. “This is Joey. He’s some kind of pit bull mix.”
“He is darling.” Charlotte’s hand rose to her chest, covering her heart. “How old is he, eight weeks?”
Reece swiped to another picture, this one of Joey swaddled in a blue baby blanket covered in cartoon ducklings. Charlotte cooed, a human heart-eye emoji.
“We think so. Someone left him in a box outside the clinic. Mom found him shivering in the cold. We weren’t sure he would make it.”
“He looks like he’s thriving now. What a li’l tough guy.”
“He had a respiratory infection, but he’s doing okay now. We’re fostering him until he finds his forever home.”
Reece swiped again: In a smiling selfie, he had Joey zipped into his hoodie. The puppy licked Reece’s neck, his nose a perky pink. “I like to carry him around in my sweatshirt pocket,” Reece said. “Mom calls it my Joey pouch.”
“Stop, you’re going to kill me.” She covered her face in her hands, a sigh falling from her lips. “I would die for Joey. I would lay down my life for Joey.”
From between her fingers, she saw Reece’s grin widen into a full just-for-Charlie classic. “He needs a mommy,” he said with a shameless eyebrow waggle. “He’ll love you for life.”
Charlotte’s heart thundered. She hadn’t been subjected to the full force of Reece Krueger’s charm in years. The playful glint in his eyes had grown finer with age, more roguish than boyish. “Don’t tempt me,” she said, color rising in her cheeks again.
His arched eyebrow clued her in that he’d picked up on her double meaning. He sat close enough to hear her breath quicken, and for a moment she wasn’t sure if he’d acknowledge the frisson of attraction between them. It didn’t have the heaviness of last night’s dark magnetism. This felt fun and easy, their rapport laced with humor.
Jackie was right. This was undeniably flirting.
Her phone trilled with a notification.
Reece blinked like someone had turned the lights on at a dark party. Charlotte tore her eyes from his soft mouth and leaned over to squint at her computer.
SLACK MESSAGE FROM AUBREY PAGE TO CHARLOTTE THORNE, 3:26 PM: roger needs post-its
“Oh for goodness’ sake.”
Reece read over her shoulder as she typed furiously. “Your boss again?”
SLACK MESSAGE FROM CHARLOTTE THORNE TO AUBREY PAGE, 3:27 PM: They’re in the supply closet.
“My assistant. Technically Roger’s second assistant, who reports to me.”
Reece frowned. “Important guy to need two assistants.”
She gave him a strained look. “That’s what he likes to think.”
SLACK MESSAGE FROM AUBREY PAGE TO CHARLOTTE THORNE, 3:28 PM: where is that
Charlotte turned her laptop toward him. “She’s worked at Front End for six months and doesn’t know where the supply closet is.”
He hummed in sympathy. “Can’t she figure it out by herself?”
“You’d think so, but no.”
