drug protocols to allow me to day drink in case this exact scenario ever occurs again.
Probably doesn’t help I slept like shit last night.
Which isn’t my fault.
How was I supposed to know the man I was labeling to be the one of my dreams was really just a smoking hot con artist in bright-colored boardshorts?
All of a sudden, there’s a knock on my office door, prompting me to pull my attention away from the paperwork sprawled across my desk and over to it.
Speak of the surfing swindler himself.
Ax offers me a crooked, cautious yet hopeful grin. “Got a minute?”
I do my best to ignore what a delicious mess he looks like in his red boardshorts and green t-shirt that has Godzilla wearing sunglasses while holding a surfboard.
There’s no point in denying how fucking sexy he is.
He’s got rock hard arms made of titanium or whatever that really strong alien metal was in Black Panther and abs to match like there was no way they were allowed to be sold separately. And I had every intention of playing with both last night until the truth came rudely rambling through the front door ruining the fantasies I had conjured up, but saving me what I now know would’ve been the ultimate walk of shame.
A sloppy sorority freshman wouldn’t have had shit on me.
“Patron complaints can be filed on the first floor. Second hall. Last door on the left.” My gaze falls back to what warrants my attention rather than just what wants it. “Have a sunshine and seashell filled day, sir.”
“Damn, Brooklyn,” he mumbles, his footsteps coming my direction. “That was colder than the shower I took last night and the water out on the waves this morning.” It isn’t until he’s right next to the chair Fatima was previously occupying that he speaks again. “Tea?”
I snap my head up his direction.
“Green tea latte?”
My nose scrunches in disinterest.
“They’re actually really good,” Ax casually counters and gently dangles the cup containing the creation. “Once you go green, you don’t miss the expresso bean.”
The unusual rhyme successfully receives a small grin while the offering of the plain tea is the one reluctantly taken.
“Give me a chance to explain what happened last night?”
Both hands wrap around the cup in my possession at the same time the low-pitched humming returns.
Stress can exacerbate my tinnitus. Of course, by can, I mean does. Almost religiously. I’ve taught myself tension relieving techniques – like the toe flexes I’ve been doing all morning, meditation mantras – like this too shall pass, though it may feel like someone shoving a broken bone back in place – and nondrug remedies – like pineapple, which I’m not sure if I consume more of because it provides comfort due to childhood attachment or because of the article I read implying it could help. Over the years, to help defend myself against the trigger, I’ve pretty much mastered the art of staying relatively calm in every aspect of my life.
Ax’s blue gaze glows in hope causing the low buzz to amplify.
Okay.
Every aspect except one.
My love life hasn’t exactly had an active enough track record to provide me with the opportunity to perfect that proficiency.
I curl my toes tightly forward and curtly state, “You lied to me. No explanation needed. Minute over.”
“Technically,” Ax lowers himself into the seat despite not being invited to stay, “I didn’t lie to you.”
“Right… Let’s see how that works the next time we talk to the paramedic about a near-drowning incident. No, technically, Mr. or Ms. Paramedic, they didn’t almost die. They simply panicked underwater and just passed out while waiting for someone to come and rescue them.”
The absurdity seems to make him wince.
“Exactly.” I sample a small sip of the beverage that’s somehow already at the ideal temperature. “You can go. Thank you for the tea. I appreciate the energy and effort you expelled for me.”
“Please, let me explain, Brook.”
“Never call me that.”
Ax quirks an eyebrow.
“It is not my name. It is not a nickname I approve of. And it is not a name I want to associate with. Brook is the nickname for the girl who made cheer squad captain in high school and blew half the football team in college. She adds blonde to her hair because she thinks she’s the second coming of Beyoncé and won’t eat things that once had faces because that means they once had feelings yet would never turn down a great pair of leather pants. I am not that person. I am