Text Me, Maybe - Jolyse Barnett Page 0,15

I work with are with me because they choose to be. Still, it’s a good feeling.

What? The teaching or feeling needed?

Probably both.

She typed her final question but hesitated, her thumb hovering over send. Did she really want to know the answer? And if she did, was it for her role as Ms. Swann’s assistant, or for the little girl inside her who used to believe in fairytales?

Chapter Ten

Do you believe in happily-ever-after?

Matthew leaned back on the pillow against his bed’s headboard as he read Lexie’s last question. Well, that one was far more personal and potentially eye-opening compared to the first two. If only he could determine whether she’d asked from her heart or for Sylvia. He typed: That was three questions. Four, if you want to get technical.

Technically, the last was a subset of the second question.

He snorted, startling his cat curled next to his hip. I’ll remember that when I ask my three questions on our date.

Fine with me.

Scratching Remy, his cat, between the ears, he laughed. “Of course it’s fine by her, she’s not my date.”

Not that he planned to ask Sylvia Swann any personal questions, because their meet-up would never materialize. The fortuitous chain of events he’d already set into motion would take care of that problem.

You still there?

He scrubbed his chin. What’s the question again?

Scroll up, silly.

Oh, do I believe? Hell yeah. Do you?

The jury’s still out. Part two of the same question. Do you believe in romance?

Hmmm. Where was she going with this? I think it’s an essential part of a romantic relationship. Are my quotes romantic? He scooped the dozing cat onto his chest while he waited. Or are they annoying? ;P

Can I be blunt?

Give me all you’ve got.

When I read your first text, I suspected you were one of those guys who uses poetry to seduce women.

And now that you’re getting to know me?

Now I know you use poetry to seduce women.

He smiled. So it’s working?

Maybe. :)

He laughed again, and Remy’s green eyes glared up at him for disturbing her nap. He scratched the fur between her ears for forgiveness then returned his attention to his conversation. There’s nothing sexier than a woman with a quick mind.

I had fun tonight. Appreciate you playing along. Look forward to talking soon.

Me, too. Feel better and good luck with the presentation. Night.

Matthew set the phone on his nightstand and clicked off the light. Weird how it seemed so much easier for her to talk to him here. She seemed to crave human connection, but as soon as he gave her attention or moved too close, she put up walls…even when he was an anonymous guy on the phone.

He sighed and linked his hands behind his head. The woman was a study in contrasts. Chris would be the person to ask, but it was too late tonight to pick the human psych dynamo’s brain. He’d have to wait to bounce his theories off his friend over morning coffee at the student union. Chris could help him brainstorm the best game plan.

Until then, he’d have to settle for the fantasy of her.

Chapter Eleven

Ignoring her roiling stomach, Lexie twisted her ponytail as she entered the fitness center the following night after work. Could it have only been a week since she first walked into the place? Matthew was nowhere in sight.

Stop being so paranoid. He’s probably running late. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to train me.

Internal pep talk over, she resumed her march toward the locker room. Should she apologize for her odd behavior Wednesday night, or pretend it never happened? And what about him? Would he be polite and professional, or pissed off because she’d been so moody?

And weird. Let’s face it—he probably thinks I’m a crazy person now. Who wouldn’t?

Lexie pushed open the locker room door. What did she care? It’s not like they’d ever act on what was between them. That kind of heat didn’t last. Fireworks were pretty, but they fizzled out quickly.

Ashes. That was all she’d be left with.

She didn’t need fireworks in her life. She had her writing.

Squeezing past a cluster of cheerful coworkers, she wove her way to Locker 43 and changed quickly before leaving.

He’d wanted to kiss her. With everything that had happened that day, she’d tried to forget. But there had been that moment.

She’d wanted it, too. But she couldn’t allow it. She loved her mom, but there was no way she’d ever allow herself to be dependent on a man. And kisses with hot guys—no. Once she had