Page 21 of Pucking Sweet

“Yeah, maybe add a pop of color or something.”

“Sure, a pop of color should do the trick.” She turns to her desktop computer, clicking the keys with her manicured nails. In seconds, the screen lights up. A few more clicks of her mouse, and she’s muttering something that sounds like, “At this point, I’d settle for some internet service.”

I scoot the chair forward on squeaky wheels. “Wait—you don’t even have internet in here?”

“It’s fine,” she says again. “They’re working on it. Steve down in IT assures me of that every day.”

I glance at the office phone perched on the corner of her desk. No lights glow from the screen. “And the phones?”

“I’m sorry. Areyoufrom IT?” she snaps. “You wanna fix my flickering lights and connect my internet and hook my phone up to an actual jack? Be my guest, Lukas. I won’t stop you.”

I lean away, eyes wide.

She takes in the look on my face and deflates. “Oh goodness, I’m so sorry.” Her hand flutters over her chest. “That was uncalledfor. I’m just…” She takes a deep breath. “You know, I’m justreallytired of running my department from a cell phone.”

I nod, settling back in the uncomfortable chair. “You should talk to Talbot.”

She pulls out a manila folder, setting it on the desk between us. “I’m not going to bother the team owner about a few flickering light bulbs. Maintenance is on it. And IT is dealing with the phones. It’s all just growing pains. It’ll be dealt with in a timely manner.”

Is she trying to convince me or herself?

“No, I mean you should talk to him about moving you out of this coffin,” I say.

She straightens in her chair, her blue eyes wide as she looks at me. “What coffin?”

“Poppy, you’re the director of public relations for a major international sports team. You can’t be sitting in the dark with no internet and no phones with this janky-ass furniture. I mean,lookat me. I’m, like, two hundred and twenty pounds, and I think I’m about to break this shitty chair.”

“Well then stand up,” she cries. “God, I only have the one in here, Lukas. I can’t have you snapping its little matchstick legs the first time you sit down.”

I roll my eyes. Of course she’s choosing to miss my point. “I’m not gonna stand for this meeting.”

She huffs, crossing her arms. “Well, then just sit very carefully.”

I jerk the chair forward with another squeak. “You know, this is starting to feel a bit like a hostile work environment.”

Her eyes go wide again. “Lukas, what—”

“Yeah, since I came in here, I’ve felt nothing but devalued and demeaned by you. I’m too unqualified to fix your internet, too heavy to sit in your chair.”

She knows I’m joking now, and her shoulders relax. “Youareunqualified to fix my internet.”

“And we both know the only reason I’m here is because you’re taking preemptive disciplinary action against me.”

“That is not what this is about!” Oh, she’s rising to my baiting beautifully. The pink is glowing in her cheeks. I like her like this, angry and indignant.

“Maybe if I knew there was justonething you actually liked about me,” I say with a dramatic wave of my hand. “One thing that made me a human worth knowing in your eyes. I think that would be enough.”

She searches my face. “Is that really how you feel?”

“Hard not to,” I reply, crossing my arms over my barrel chest. It’s a good look for me. I’ve got great arms—and a great chest. I know this angle makes my biceps pop. And girls always swoon for my colorful ink. It stretches up both arms from my wrists, under my T-shirt, and over my shoulders.

“Fine. You want to know one thing I like about you?”

“One thing is certainly a good start,” I say with a solemn nod.

She purses those pretty pink lips, her eyes searching my face.

As her silence stretches, I huff, leaning back in the squeaky chair. “Seriously? It’s really taking youthislong to name one single thing you like about me? Should I just tunnel my way through this wall over to an office with a window and leap out?”