Page 56 of More than Fiction (Misty Springs #1)

Corbin

Every day spent in Misty Springs was a test . When I left the sanctuary of my office, I was hit by her smell, tempted by the sway of her step, or lured by the sound of her laugh.

Texting her was idiotic—an amateur mistake for someone like me.

What was I even thinking?

I was dancing with danger during that meeting.

Whenever her deep blue eyes locked on mine underneath those thick lashes, I felt my resolve waver. I knew she’d lock onto my words, knew the air would stiffen around us as we both drew our time together in our imaginations.

The meeting went on around us as if we weren’t both drowning in our desires.

A distraction , that’s what I had deemed Sophia to be when she sat next to me in first class.

She was proving to be more than that.

She was a need.

A craving.

I was a junkie—plotting, planning, focusing solely on how to get my next fix. Everything else in life was diminished, overshadowed by the urge to get closer to her.

And this damn charming crap town—I spent the last two weeks here, and here I was again. Another week in Misty Springs, another week I was supposed to spend in New York.

Andi strutted into my office, looking like she was about to rip into me for something—I knew that look too well .

“You’re… here again. Why?” She raised an eyebrow over her thick purple glasses.

I put on an impassive face and shrugged. “I am just making sure things are staying the course here.”

Wrong answer, it seemed.

“You don’t trust me to keep things on course ?” Andi’s eyes narrowed at me.

I sighed, resisting the urge to glare at her—the key was treading lightly here. I was too tired from my early morning decision to come to Misty Springs to start a fight.

“No, seriously. You hand-picked Susan, who’s fine, but also that loser Ned, despite telling me I would be in charge of hiring here.

You barely let me hire Sophia. You said having eyes and ears here would be a relief, so you didn’t have to spend time in Misty Springs, and that you planned to hand the branch over to me.

But you’ve been here nearly every damn day.

What changed? What did I do wrong here?”

“Andi,” I said, releasing a breath. “This has nothing to do with you.”

“Then what is the problem?” Andi’s arms flew in the air dramatically.

Footsteps sounded in the hallway outside my office.

Andi glanced outside my open door and gave a soft smile.

“Hey, Sophia,” she said with a wave. Her anger ebbed when she faced Sophia, before she looked back at me with a scowl. “Sophia and I have a meeting. But this isn’t over,” she seethed before storming out of my office.

Toward the end of the day, I scratched needlessly at the overgrown stubble on my chin as I fought my inner plans. I told myself I wasn’t going to do this.

I had work to do, deadlines to hit, and a presentation to clean up before the board meeting next week. But none of it stuck in my head—not with her so close.

Sophia was down the hall, tucked away in her office. I’d walked past it three times today already.

Once pretending to check the thermostat, another under the guise of looking for Andi.

The third? No excuse.

Just weakness .

I didn’t like that I felt my control slipping more and more. But I also couldn’t find the strength to reel it back in. The question of why she didn’t text me back over the weekend loomed in my head.

Before I could think again, I found myself standing from my desk, already making the walk before I had a plan.

She looked up as I approached the doorway to her open office, her brows lifting slightly.

“Hey,” I said, casual, light. I had nothing. No script, no cover. “Got a second?”

She hesitated, then nodded once. “Sure.”

I gestured for her to follow me down the hall toward the proofing room. Neutral territory. Quiet… and windowless.

The door clicked shut behind us, sealing us into something smaller, heavier.

“I just…” I rubbed a hand over the back of my neck. “I wanted to check in. I didn’t hear back from you this weekend.”

And I worried about it so much, I flew hundreds of miles to check on you.

“Right, sorry.” She placed her palm on her forehead. “My phone officially bit the dust while I was working at Boomer’s. I ordered a new one. It’s coming today.”

“You’re still working there?” I asked, the memory of a sea of large men watching her with rapt attention gnawing at me.

“For now.” She shrugged. “I want to save up for a down payment on a car.”

“Ah,” I replied.

Our eyes locked as the room fell quiet. I was out of excuses for bringing her on this makeshift excursion to the proofing room.

She tilted her head slightly, her voice a murmur. “Did you need anything else, Mr. Buescher?”

My eyes dropped to her lips the moment my name rolled off of them.

She tracked my movement.

The air somehow grew even heavier, thickening like the Jell-O surrounding those stupid gummy bugs the day I cornered Sophia in my hotel room.

“Just one more thing.” I stepped in before I could stop myself, the space between us disappearing one breath at a time.

Her lips parted, her breath hitching just enough for me to hear it. But she didn’t back away. Didn’t blink .

Our mouths met in a kiss that unraveled every stitch of discipline I’d tried to sew up over the last few weeks.

It was heated—unplanned, and untamed.

Her hands dug into my hair. Mine gripped her waist.

The tension in my muscles eased, and the restraint I held from resisting Sophia finally loosened.

I felt like a starved man finally getting his fill, my hunger strike over, relishing my reward.

And then—

“Just let me grab this off the printer—”

We jolted apart.

Ned stood in the doorway.

He stopped in his tracks. Blinked.

“Oh… didn’t realize anyone was in here. I just need to uh…” He motioned toward the printer and quickly stepped inside, grabbing a few sheets of paper before leaving, not acknowledging us again.

Sophia stared at me, breathless, lips swollen.

My pulse thundered in my ears.

“Do you think he saw—” she started.

“I don’t know.”

“I should go,” Sophia whispered, not giving me time to respond before she hurried out of the room.

I ran my fingers through my hair and cursed under my breath, the taste of her still lingering on my lips.

This —this was exactly why I didn’t want her hired in the first place. The tension, the pull, the way she looked at me like she didn’t just want me—she saw me.

I’d told myself I could keep it professional—that I could manage it.

My pulse still hadn’t slowed. I leaned back against a table, jaw clenched, trying to figure out what the hell I was doing.

I couldn’t tell if the knot in my chest was fear—for my position, the board’s opinion—or if it was her—the constant push and pull of her surrounding me every damn day.

Couldn’t tell if I was more afraid of losing my future with Buescher... or losing her.

But I could feel the answer creeping in, quiet and undeniable.

And that terrified me most of all.