Big Dick Energy - Cindi Madsen Page 0,66

up Izzie, muttering something about finishing up at home. But once he’d arrived there, he couldn’t find the flash drive with his most recently updated blueprints and had called to ask if I’d check his desk. After I’d confirmed it was in his top drawer, he’d tossed out that request.

It wasn’t fetching coffee, but it seemed a little too close to being a bike messenger or secretary. Not that there was anything wrong with either of those professions, but they weren’t in my job title, and I had a feeling Archer would never ask a male colleague for the same favor. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. We agreed to keep things strictly professional and—”

A loud sob cut through the conversation, followed by a female voice choked with tears. “I’ll never get over this. Never.”

Uh-oh. I assumed it was Izzie, and those strings in my heart that were supposed to remain in place while in the office twanged. For the past week, we’d compartmentalized the shit out of our split relationship.

At work, we discussed and even argued, the same way we always had. We’d stopped sharing our progress on our blueprints and all finer details of which way we’d gone and what they entailed.

Whenever we could, we snuck in lunches, dinners, and sexcapades at my place. During last Saturday’s girls’ night, Archer had called and requested the bartender deliver a round of drinks to me and my friends on him. I’d thanked him via text, and he’d told me to have fun and added that he was up for a booty call, no matter how late.

“It’s too late for me to call a messenger, and I don’t trust anyone else to not go through my things.”

“There are things to go through?” I teased, eyeing his open drawer again. It wasn’t like he’d have rolled up blueprints, but the flash drive would have them, and suddenly the flimsy thing felt heavier in my palm.

Not that I would peek, and it warmed my heart he trusted me, but… I’d be lying if I wasn’t the tiniest bit tempted. It would be nice to see exactly what I was up against so I could better prepare. But we’d called a truce on sabotaging each other, constantly promising to support whoever won, no matter what.

In the background, I heard talking but couldn’t make out the words. Then Archer’s voice came through the receiver loud and clear. “Oh God. She just asked if she’d look better with bangs and showed me a picture of some celebrity I’m supposed to recognize. What am I supposed to say? I’m totally out of my league here.”

Panic clutched at my lungs, memories of my Rainbow Brite bangs flashing through my mind. “Just hide the scissors. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” I tossed the flash drive up in the air and then snatched it before it hit the desk. “You owe me.”

“I assure you, my lady, I always pay my debts.” The husky dip to the words meant he assumed it’d be sexual currency. Damn the resulting throb between my legs that took away any other option.

On the way out of the building, I ran into Ron and his new girlfriend, whose name escaped my memory. She clung to him as though I’d ever want him back, and it didn’t sting or hurt—it barely even registered. Comparing my ex to Archer wouldn’t be fair, but on account of it being satisfying, I did it anyway.

My ex came up so short that I almost felt bad for his new girlfriend.

A thrill corkscrewed through me as I strode away, inwardly pumping my fist at finally moving on.

Then anxiety crashed in, like the party pooper it was. My growing affection for Archer meant my emotions were at risk.

It’s okay. We’re keeping everything in neat little boxes. Work way over there and relationship on the opposite end.

Except for tonight, with me acting as a carrier pigeon. But, like, a sexy one. Perhaps there’d be cooing later. And a teenage girl’s hair was at risk, so that was an extenuating circumstance.

A short drive that I probably could’ve walked later, Archer buzzed me up.

My heels clacked out a rhythm as I strode down the tile hallway. If Archer doesn’t get the project, will he head back to L.A right away? Or will he continue to work with BJB?

Don’t go there. After—and only after—the final meeting where the committee decides which set of blueprints they’re going with, we can discuss our future.

What’re three