Page 25 of Tempting Miles
After mulling over it longer than I care to admit, I decided to be the bigger person and bring him coffee thismorning.
He usually carries one of those insulated cups around, but it’s the thought that counts… right?
At least I hope so.
I got the coffee back in Charlotte before getting on the highway. The moment I grab the cup, I realize it’s ice cold.
Shit. So much for a nice gesture.
Well, it is what it is. The thought will have to count.
I sling my bag over my shoulder, tighten my scarf around my neck, and grab both coffees—his and mine.
Then I square my shoulders, give my hair a quick shake down my back, and head inside.
“I’m ready to make this Monday my bitch,” I murmur to myself as I start walking from my car to Miles’s office.
I knock on the door gently, trying not to slosh the coffee around. When there’s no answer, I push it open and step inside, planning to leave the cup on his desk.
To my surprise, Miles is there, typing furiously on his computer. He looks so wound up, I’m half-convinced he’s going to break the keyboard.
“Good morning,” I say, a genuine smile on my lips.
He stops typing, looks up at me, exhales through his nose, then goes right back to typing.
What the hell?
“Hey, Miles. I’m not sure what animal crawled up your ass, but I don’t think I deserve this kind of treatment. All I’ve been trying to do is keep things amicable at work, and you seemdetermined to be a complete ass to me. So here. It’s cold, but whatever. Have a good day.”
I drop the coffee on his desk with more force than I mean to, and can only watch as the lid pops off and coffee goes everywhere.
“Fuck,” he says at the same time I say, “Mierda.”
I can’t help laughing at the mess I made of his desk. The blueprints he had spread out are now drenched in a pool of caramel-colored coffee.
“I’m sorry, Miles,” I say as I glance around his office, trying to find a place to set my stuff down to help clean up.
As I lower my bag to the floor, I hear him laugh.
“I’m sorry, too. I know I’ve been acting like a child who’s butthurt because you didn’t text me back.”
My spine stiffens. “You texted me? When?” I ask, almost in shock. I’m sure if I had seen a text from Miles, I would have been swooning like a Hallmark heroine.
“That Monday, you didn’t show up for work. I wanted to check on you, since I’m also committed to having an amicable work relationship,” he says, tossing my words back at me.
“I swear, I didn’t get any text from you.”
He rolls his eyes, and I have to press my lips together to keep from laughing.
He grabs his phone, taps the screen a few times, then hands it over to me.
Miles: I’m sorry to hear you’re not feeling well. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help. Rest up, boss lady.
A smile forms before I can stop it. “That was sweet, Miles. Thank you,” I tell him honestly as I hand his phone back.
“But I didn’t get it.” I rummage through my bag, digging for my phone. When I find it, I wiggle my eyebrows in victory.
A low laugh rumbles out of him, and little by little, the tension between us eases.
