Page 73 of More than Fiction (Misty Springs #1)

Sophia

I wish I had some of this patented product when I first met Corbin. I would have blasted the noise in my earbuds on the plane. The sound trigger would have made me resist his lure, and I would have never allowed myself to dream this ridiculous dream that smashed to pieces before me.

I only had parts of the story, but from what I gathered, Davis had taken over as CEO, and my job at Buescher-Jones Publishing was officially terminated since the Misty Springs branch was shutting down.

“Okay, I like it, but what would the noise be?” Cassie asked. “Ohh, maybe I could record Trevor’s snoring,” she added deviously.

“Hey, I have a deviated septum,” Trevor responded, placing his hand on his heart.

“So, how would you train the non-sexual response? Would they have to come into some sort of therapy session?” Lana asked.

“Maybe you could make an at-home version, like a do-it-yourself kit,” Devyn chimed. “I bet Amazon would sell it.”

“You know what I love about you all the most?” I asked with a lazy smile as I lifted my glass toward the center of the table. “This, right here. Your unwavering support. For all my terrible ideas and decisions. ”

We clinked our glasses and sipped on our hot pink cosmopolitans while Legally Blonde played in the background.

Cassie informed us that the idea for this theme was born when Julio said he wanted to make something simple, like hot dogs, for once.

She said she gave him his best Jennifer Coolidge impression, saying she wanted a hot dog real bad—a reference that flew over his head—but he took it as a green light to do so.

A week later, a shipment of hot dogs arrived, and thus, Legally Blonde movie theme night was born.

Of course, Julio didn’t know how to do simple things, so these hot dogs were anything but plain. Mine had a pickled jalapeno relish adorned atop a smoked cream cheese. It was heavenly.

The dessert was a Boston cream pie because Harvard was in Massachusetts. It was a bit of a stretch, but there are no rules when it comes to Elijah’s movie-themed nights.

“We love you too, Soph,” Brent said, sipping his water.

He had volunteered to drive us home tonight. “And take it easy on the drinks,” he added, his big brother tone slipping through.

“C’mon, the doctor said she could have one,” Devyn argued.

“The doctor said she could have none, actually,” Brent corrected.

“One is basically none if you drink it slowly enough and have some water in between,” she countered.

I laughed at Devyn’s logic.

“I feel fine guys. I just need to figure out how to start over… again.” I took another sip of my pink drink.

“You’re welcome back here anytime, you know. Elijah literally cried when I told him you quit.” Cassie squeezed my hand over the table.

“Yeah, come back to Boomer's, too,” Devyn chimed in, sticking her lip out in an exaggerated pout. “Theresa will let you come back even though you yell-quit. She still owes you that much.”

I forced a smile, though a pang of sadness lingered beneath it. My dream job had imploded, and my latest attempt at romance had seemingly turned into yet another spectacular disaster.

But despite it all, I couldn’t call this a failure. I wasn’t the same person I was a few months ago. I may have taken three steps forward and two steps back, but I was still new and improved .

“Actually,” I said, the words forming like a sudden epiphany as I watched Elle Woods strut around the hallways of Harvard, “I think I might go back to school—finally finish that degree. I might have to spend the rest of my life paying off my loans, but at least I’ll have doors open for me that have been sealed shut previously. ”

Lana placed her hand on mine. “That’s a great plan, Soph.”

“Then what?” Sam asked, sipping on his pink drink with a distinguished pinkie raised in the air.

“I don’t know exactly, something in publishing.” I felt a spark of excitement. “Turns out, I have a knack for it. Maybe with a degree and a solid month of experience, someone besides Andi will give me a chance next time.”

Devyn raised her glass. “To Sophia, the next literary queen!”

We clinked our glasses together and celebrated the occasion of just being together, of being there for each other through all life’s highs and lows.

In that moment, I realized Corbin was right—I was rich. And this crew was worth more than all the glitzy gold in the world.

“Another round?” Lana asked, already signaling to the bartender.

Before anyone could respond, a familiar voice came from behind me, deep and achingly resonant. “This one's on me.”

My breath caught, my lungs seemingly forgetting how to inflate. Heat flamed across my skin, tightening every muscle as it coursed through my body.

Every face at the table snapped toward the voice above my head.

“And just where have you been?” Trevor spoke first, his tone mock-accusatory. “Waltzing in here like the prodigal son—”

Devyn slapped his arm, forcing him to stop.

“Ow!” he cried.

I pushed my chair back, nearly colliding with Corbin. His scent—that familiar citrus and pine—enveloped me, and I felt dizzy for reasons that had nothing to do with the vodka.

Without thinking, I wrapped my hand around Corbin’s arm—the one that wasn’t still in a sling—and pulled him away from the table.

As we left, I heard Trevor whining about wanting to know what was going on and Cassie scolding him .

My mind was spinning, and my legs were unsteady as I led Corbin into the quiet privacy of the breakroom. The sign on the door read “Employees Only,” but I decided that former employees counted as well.

The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly, casting a sterile glow over the mismatched furniture and the trusty Mr. Coffee machine.

Corbin looked so out of place here, his tailored suit pristine, his tie slightly loosened. The sling around his arm was the only sign he’d just come from battle—literal and metaphorical.

He looked at me, and I met his gaze with a steely glare. I let my silence do the heavy lifting, willing him to come up with what had better be a hell of an excuse for dodging me these past few days.

“I’m sorry,” he said, smoothing out an invisible wrinkle on his jacket. “I should’ve texted you. The past forty-eight hours have been... overwhelming.”

I swallowed, my throat tight. “What happened, Corbin?”

“A lot… too much.” His eyes softened, and I took a small step toward him, still keeping my distance.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

A faint smile played on his lips, tinged with exhaustion. “I’m okay. A little broken, a little bruised, and a lot pissed at Davis. But things are finally going down the right path.”

I crossed my arms, frustration mingling with worry.

“What path is that? Because from where I’m standing, everything feels like it’s fallen off a cliff.

Your company was stolen from you. I got fired.

The Misty Springs branch is shut down. Everything is destroyed. The path isn’t even visible anymore.”

“Not the way I see it,” he said softly, stepping closer.

The air around us thickened, humming with tension. His gaze, fierce and unrelenting, rooted me to the spot. The warmth radiating from his body teased my senses, making it hard to hold on to my anger.

“The way I see it,” he continued, “is that my grandfather’s company needed to cut some dead weight.”

He moved closer, his fingers brushing my cheek, still slightly bruised from the accident.

“And it’s not his company anymore.” His breath was warm against my ear as he dipped closer. “It’s mine. ”

My heart raced, hammering against my ribs as I struggled to make sense of the sudden shift. “So… you’re in charge now?”

“Fully,” he confirmed, a flicker of pride in his tone. “Of both branches, New York and Misty Springs.”

“New York and Misty Springs? So, the branch here will stay open?” My heart lifted. I thought my opportunity to work in publishing meant leaving the town and the people I loved.

“The woman running the day-to-day in Misty Springs is tough but fair. And she needs an editor. Don’t question her style choices, though—she’ll tear you apart,” Corbin added.

“Andi is in charge of the Misty Springs branch?”

He nodded, dropping his hand to my waist.

The feel of his fingers made my insides tighten with anticipation.

I swallowed it down, still trying to process everything he said.

“So, will you be staying in New York? Or…” My skin tingled under the graze of his fingers as they slowly slid under my shirt.

He grinned with a lazy, confident curve of his lips. “I have a guy who will be helping me oversee the New York Branch. He’s now the ‘Vice President of Operations, Overcomplicated Legalese, and Bad Moods.’ Sullivan insisted on the title.”

A laugh escaped me before I could stop it. “Sullivan seems to be quite the character.”

“He’s definitely something else.” Corbin’s smile at the mention of Sullivan was youthful and genuine. “So I plan on having a lot more theme nights at Elijah’s—since I plan to spend every moment I can trying to woo a brilliant, sexy, well-read brunette.”

My breath caught, heat blooming in my chest at his acclaim. “You’re assuming this brunette wants to be wooed?”

“I’m an optimist,” he said with a devilish grin.

“What about the no-relationship policy?” I challenged, tilting my head.

He licked his lips as mischief flickered in his gaze. “I own the company now. And I say you can kiss me—or do whatever you want with me—whenever you want.”

I didn’t wait.

I closed the gap between us, my lips finding his in a fierce and claiming kiss.

His hand slid into my hair, pulling me closer as the weight of uncertainty melted away .

Someone doesn’t just fit into your life—they rewrite the definition of it.

And Corbin did.

Every kiss, every conversation, every moment of reckless hope—it all changed how I saw myself, my future, us .

This wasn’t the start of something—it was a redefinition. A slow remaking of the woman I’d hidden beneath fear and doubt.

And for the first time in a long time, she felt like someone I could believe in.