Page 74 of Things We Left Behind

“I’ll send her the canned response,” Agatha, Blaze’s wife and fellow board member, volunteered.

“When you do, tell her that her copy ofThe Witch’s Mountain Lovers: A Dubious Consent Paranormal Reverse Haremwas due back two days ago,” Kristin said smugly.

Agatha grinned and mimed dropping a microphone.

Back in the safety of my office, I cracked open my afternoon root beer and flopped down behind my desk.

It wasn’t shiny, sterile glass like Lucian’s. My office was furnished with what I liked to think of as generic administrator furniture: sturdy budget pieces that lacked personality. I made up for it by painting the walls a hunter green and cramming the shelves full of personal memorabilia. It was cluttered, colorful, and chaotic. Just like me.

A delightful hot mess such as myself did not belong with an emotionally stunted neat freak. Not even between the sheets.

No, if I was serious about finding my life partner, I needed to focus on that. Not the potential of really hot sex with a guy I didn’t actually like.

I remembered the dating app and perked up immediately. Perhaps my future husband was already in my inbox.

I pounced on my phone like my cat on her chicken-­and-­waffle-­flavored treats…and immediately deflated.

No notifications. How was that possible?

I checked my inbox and found it empty.

“This can’t be right,” I mumbled to myself. I scrolled through the history of male profiles I’d hearted. Seriously? How was a girl supposed to get laid, let alone fall in love, when none of the men I’d hearted had hearted me back?

Maybe the app was broken. I’d probably missed a button to publish my profile. I’d have to ask Stef or Lina and soon, seeing as how my “quivering sex” was so ready for action it was starting to consider Lucian Rollins as a potential candidate.

“When you’re finished scowling at your screen, I have something for you.”

I backhanded my tumbler off the desk and hurled my phone in a wide arc. I was halfway out of my chair before I came to my senses.

And my senses told me that Lucian Freaking Rollins was standing in the doorway of my office.

“What…why…er, how?” I croaked as I came to my feet.

He crouched down smoothly and picked up the water bottle I’d accidentally assaulted. “Funny, I remember you being more eloquent than this.”

“Don’t start with me, Lucifer,” I warned, snatching the tumbler out of his manly hand. “Why are you haunting my office instead of purchasing blood diamonds and selling stolen internal organs on the black market?”

He tossed a manga novel onto my desk. My manga novel. Well, technically the library’s.

“You left this in my office. I heard the librarian here is a stickler for late fees.”

“You know there’s this thing called the postal service,” I said, liberating my phone from the floor.

“Unfortunately for you, I was already going to be in town.” He tucked his hands into his pockets and prowled my office in a slow circuit, pausing to look more closely at my personal effects.

He was too big to be in here. He seemed to suck all the oxygen and color out of the room until the only thing I was aware of was his presence.

“What has you spoiling for a fight, Pixie? Did another squirrel get stuck in the book return?”

“You’re hilarious. So funny. I’m so glad we had this time together. Why don’t I open this second-­story window and assist you out of it?” I offered, rubbing the wrist that had connected with my water bottle.

“Interesting reading material,” he said, tilting his head at the book on my desk.

“It’s for a teenage boy with dyslexia. I figured he’d like all the fight scenes, but I wanted to read it first before I recommended it to him.” I didn’t know why I was explaining myself to him. It wasn’t like he actually cared what I read, and I certainly didn’t put any stock in his opinion of me or my reading habits.

“Nearly every memory I have of you involves books.”

It came out of him sounding like a confession. We stared at each other for a long, silent thirty seconds.