Smokey's Distraction - Chiah Wilder Page 0,19

some ideas, I’m all ears; otherwise, I’m going to go back to my office.”

They stared at each for what seemed like forever, and then she whirled around and walked toward the door.

“And stop checking out my butt,” she said before opening the door and slipping out into the corridor.

His guffaw rankled every nerve in her body; she clenched her hands into fists and stalked to her office.

Ashley closed the door, walked over to the window, and stared out at the swirling snow. “How am I going to do this?” she muttered under her breath. It was bad enough that she’d spent most of Sunday daydreaming about the hot guy she’d met at Blue’s Belly on Saturday night, and she’d even regretted her decision in dissing him. And now we’ll be working together. A groan escaped from her lips and she pressed her forehead against the cool glass. “What a fucking mess.” She inhaled deeply and slowly exhaled, her warm breath fogging the pane.

At that moment, Ashley saw movement in the parking lot below the window. She peered through the falling snow, but all she saw was something black, like an eraser smudge against the pristine whiteness.

Something—or someone—moved behind the huge oak tree standing in the corner of the lot.

It’s an animal or … Squinting her eyes, she pushed against the glass.

A strange feeling twisted in the pit of Ashley’s stomach as she stared at the tree. Seconds turned into minutes, and she began to think that she’d imagined the whole thing. A shaky breath of relief expelled from her lungs as she took a step away from the window.

And just then, she flinched and gasped.

A figure stepped out from behind the tree; dressed in a long black coat, the person appeared to be staring right at her.

Ashley jumped away and ran over to the cord and yanked it down hard. The shade slammed down, and she stood there panting, her heart pumping against her throat.

A knock on the door terrified her, and she stilled, frozen with fear against the wall, clutching her fists to her chest as she watched the knob turn slowly.

Smokey walked in, and his brow furrowed as his mouth turned grim.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, approaching her.

Ashley imagined that she looked like a scared little kid, afraid that the bogeyman was going to get her. Pushing away from the wall, she smiled weakly and walked over to her desk and sat down.

“Nothing, really.”

Smokey’s gaze scanned over the closed shades. “Don’t you like the view?”

“It’s a bit bright out,” she mumbled, pretending to look for something in the middle drawer of the desk.

“I just came by to see how you’ve settled in.”

Ashley glanced up. “I’m fine, and you don’t have to check up on me. I always deliver on a job—ask Zach.” The gripping fear of just minutes before evaporated, and annoyance at Smokey’s condescension pricked at her.

“I don’t need to ask Zach shit. I’m just trying to make you feel welcomed, but you can’t see around that big-ass chip on your shoulder.”

“Whatever,” she muttered. “When would you like to go over the proposed marketing campaign? I’ve worked up a couple and would like to know your thoughts.”

“You’re a fast worker.”

“I started on it last week.” Ashley closed the desk drawer and folded her hands on top of the desk mat.

“Zach was right about you being all work but … you gotta play sometimes. What’s the point in living if there isn’t any fun?” He took a few steps closer to her, and she smelled the lingering scents of leather, pine, and crisp air all mingling together to make her pulse pound.

Ashley licked her lips. “My life’s fine the way it is. Anyway, all that matters is the campaign, so, again, when do you want to look over the proposals?”

“I’m taking off—I’ve gotta help out at a job. What about tomorrow?”

“That’ll work.”

“We’ll talk about them over dinner.”

“Wait a minute”—she pointed a finger at him—“I’m not meeting for dinner. We have all day to go over them, and I already told you I’m here to work and not—”

“Don’t get bent outta shape—I’m not asking you on a date. Tomorrow, I need to work all day on a project, so we have to meet after hours. I’m sure Zach told you I work a lot with my crew.”

Ashley felt her cheeks heat, embarrassing her even more, and she looked away. “He did. We could meet at a coffee house.”

“I’ll want dinner.” Standing right next to her chair, he leaned down.

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