Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 102781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Read Online Books/Novels: | We Shouldn't |
|---|---|
Author/Writer of Book/Novel: | Vi Keeland |
| Language: | English |
| Book Information: | |
Bennett Fox walked into my life on one hell of a crappy Monday morning. I was late for the first day at my new job—a job I’d now have to compete for even though I’d already worked eight years to earn it, because of an unexpected merger. While I lugged my belongings up to my new office, a meter maid wrote me a parking summons. She’d ticketed a long line of cars—except for the Audi parked in front of me, which happened to be the same make and model as mine. Annoyed, I decided to regift my ticket to the car that had evaded a fine. Chances were, the owner would pay it and be none the wiser. Except, I accidentally broke the windshield wiper while slipping the ticket onto the car’s window. Seriously, my day couldn’t get any worse. Things started to perk up when I ran into a gorgeous man in the elevator. We had one of those brief moments that only happened in movies. You know the deal…your body lights up, fireworks go off, and the air around you crackles with electricity. His heated stare left me flush when I stepped off the elevator. Maybe things here wouldn’t be so bad after all. Or so I thought. Until I walked into my new boss’s office and met my competition. The gorgeous man from the elevator was now my nemesis. His heated stare wasn’t because of any mutual attraction. It was because he’d seen me vandalize his car. And now he couldn’t wait to annihilate his rival. There’s a fine line between love and hate—and we shouldn’t cross it. We shouldn’t—but straddling that line could be so much fun. | |
| Books by Author: | Vi Keeland Books |
Chapter 1
* * *
Bennett
“What the hell is she doing?”
When the light turned green, I kept jogging in place rather than crossing. The scene unfolding across the street was just too entertaining to interrupt. My car was parked in front of the office, and a curly-haired blonde with killer legs was leaning over the windshield—her hair apparently somehow stuck in my wiper blade.
Why? I had no fucking idea. But she seemed pretty pissed off, and the sight was comical to watch, so I kept my distance, curious to see how this would play out.
It was a typical breezy day in the Bay Area, and a gust of wind kicked up, causing her long hair to fly all over the place as she struggled with my car. That seemed to upset her even more. Frustrated, she yanked on her hair, but the clump wrapped around the wiper was too big, and it didn’t come loose. Rather than trying to unwind it gently, she yanked harder, this time standing up as she tugged at her hair with both hands.
That did the trick. Her hair came loose. Unfortunately, my wiper blade was still attached to it, dangling. She grumbled what I suspected was a string of curses and then made a last, futile attempt to remove the tangled mess. The people who had crossed the street when I should’ve now began to approach where she stood, and blondie suddenly seemed to realize someone might take notice of her.
Instead of being angry that this crazy woman had damaged my one-week-old Audi, I couldn’t help but laugh when she glanced around, then opened her raincoat and tucked the dangling wiper inside. She smoothed down her hair, cinched her belt, and turned to walk away as if nothing had happened.
I thought that was the end of the show, but apparently she thought better of what she’d done. Or so it seemed. Turning back, she returned to my car. She then proceeded to dig into her pocket for something and stick it under the remaining windshield wiper before scurrying off.
When the light turned green again, I crossed and jogged to my car, curious as to what her note would say. She must’ve been stuck there for a while and written it before I saw her, because she hadn’t taken out a pen while I watched.
Lifting the remaining wiper, I slipped out the note and turned it over, only to find what she’d left behind wasn’t an apology note at all. The blonde had left me a damn parking ticket.
***
What a morning. My car vandalized, no hot water at the gym next to the office, and now one of the elevators was out of service again. The morning rush crammed into the only functioning elevator car like sardines in a can. I looked down at my watch. Shit. My meeting with Jonas was supposed to start five minutes ago.
And we were stopping at every damn floor.
The doors slid open on the seventh floor, one floor below mine.
“Excuse me,” a woman behind me said.
I stepped to the side to let people out, and the woman caught my attention as she passed. She smelled good, like suntan lotion and the beach. I watched her step off. Just as the elevator doors began to close, she turned back, and our gazes locked for a brief second.
Gorgeous blue eyes smiled at me.
I started to smile back…then stopped, blinking and taking in her whole face—and her hair—just as the doors slid shut.
Holy shit. The woman from this morning.
I tried to get the person standing in front of the elevator panel on the other side of the car to press the open button, but we’d started moving before she even figured out I was talking to her.
Perfect. Just perfect. Goes with the rest of the damn day.
I arrived in Jonas’s office almost ten minutes behind schedule.
“Sorry I’m late. Crappy morning.”
“No problem. Things are a little hectic here today with the move.”
I sat down in one of the visitor’s chairs across from the boss and let out a deep breath.
“How’s your team doing with everything going on today?” he asked.
“As well as can be expected. Would go over much better if I could tell everyone their jobs were safe.”
“No one is losing any job at the moment.”
“If you could stop that sentence after the word job, that would be great.”
Jonas sat back in his chair and sighed. “I know it’s not easy. But this merger will be good for the company in the end. Wren may be the smaller player, but they have a nice portfolio of clients.”
Two weeks ago, the company I’d been working for since straight out of college had merged with another large ad agency. Everyone had been on edge ever since, nervous about what the acquisition of Wren Media meant for their position at Foster Burnett. For the last two weeks, I’d spent half my mornings reassuring my team, even though I had no fucking idea what the future of two major ad houses consolidating might look like.