Manfax (Winter Brothers #2) - Jacob Chance Page 0,37
took precedence.”
“Roxanne”—she shakes her head—“work will always be there, so juicy gossip should be shared immediately.”
“Is that so?” I ask, interested in hearing her no doubt flawed logic on the matter.
“Tell me what happened,” she orders.
“You’re way too excited about this. It was really nothing. He was in the lobby when I arrived. I asked him what he was doing here, and he never got a chance to answer me. He had to get to work almost immediately.” I’m not about to share how I accused Adam of being here for me. I have to restrain myself from physically cringing as I replay the scene in my mind. It wasn’t one of my better moments.
“I can’t wait to see how long it takes you guys to lock lips again,” Lisa confesses.
“Seriously?”
“Hell yeah. How hilarious is it that our own Mr. Manfax has a thing for you? Talk about a small world.”
“Pfft.” I wave my hand, dismissing her words as nonsense. “It’s an odd coincidence, nothing more.”
“There are no coincidences.” She hums The Twilight Zone theme song.
I laugh. “You have quite an imagination.”
“Think about the slim odds of the two of you meeting, and yet you still did. Don’t you find that to be pretty remarkable?”
I press my lips together in an unimpressed line. “I haven’t really given it much thought.”
The truth is, before today, I haven’t allowed myself to think about Adam much. I’ve buried myself in my work since the trip just to make sure I would crash into bed each night, exhausted enough to fall quickly asleep.
And on the occasions when he has slipped into my thoughts, and I’ve wondered what he’s been up to, I’ve reminded myself how he’s off-limits.
“I’m taking it as a sign you guys are meant to be,” Lisa says, and I giggle at the absurdity.
“Yeah, I’m sure fate has big plans for Adam and me.”
“Fine, Rox. Laugh now, but I’ll be the one laughing when you end up together.”
“I’m so sure we’re not meant for each other that I’ll stake my BMW on it.”
Lisa dances around my office, shaking her ass, singing, “Oh, yeah. I’m getting a new Beamer. I’m getting a new Beamer.”
“Don’t get too excited. It’s still mine.”
“Only for the time being. I can already feel those buttery leather seats underneath me,” she boasts.
“You’re blinded by your romantic nature, which is mind-boggling to me. How can you work for me, see the shitty men we do, and still be a romantic at heart?”
Lisa raises her palms. “What can I say? I believe in love.”
Maybe Lisa is the yin to my yang when it comes to this business. She balances out my cynicism about the opposite sex. As much as I believe most men are born with the predisposition to be disloyal dogs, she believes just as strongly that most men are inherently good. It’s a wonder we click so well.
“Fuck,” I mutter to myself as I hurry along the sidewalk. Since I left home, the sky has opened up. Rain pours down forcefully, pelting my umbrella, and the powerful wind shoves me side to side in a drunken gait—which isn’t easy while wearing heels.
The parking area reserved for the building my office is in was repaved yesterday, and the cones are still blocking the entrance. Finding an open meter to park at on this street is a crapshoot. I drove around the block three times before one opened up. Unfortunately, it’s a decent distance from my building.
A gust of air hits and my trusty umbrella turns upward, flipping inside out. I stop and try to fix it, but the metal pieces have snapped in several places.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
The torrential downpour pounds my head, face, and shoulders with sharp, cold pinpricks. I sputter as the water slides from the tip of my nose to my lips. Strings of sopping hair hang in my face. Pushing them back with my one free hand, the useless umbrella dangles from the other.
I start progressing forward once more. It seems like forever when my hand closes around the door handle and I escape into the lobby.
Throwing my piece of shit umbrella down on the floor, like a spoiled brat who didn’t get their way, I’m tempted to stomp on it in anger. Too bad I’m occupied with trying to get the wall of sodden hair away from my blurry eyes.
When I finally make some semblance of order out of my hair and swipe my hands under my eyes, I notice Adam. Standing off to the side