Page 22 of Lift Me Up

I smile.

Oh, I am counting on it.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

GEORGIE

Life is... weird. One minute, you’re sitting on your couch in your underwear eating cup noodles and wondering how you even got here to begin with, wondering what comes next and then Boom. Freight train of life hits you. Suddenly, you’ve got a traumatic incident under your belt you survived, you’ve got a new job, and you’ve got a new co-worker who happens to have aided you in the previously mentioned traumatic incident. Just me?

“And he was just magically there?” Franny shouts into her phone’s speaker as if I can’t hear her or see her face on the screen.

I wince, “Fran, take it down like six levels.”

She rolls her eyes at me, “Details, Georgie, details!’

“Well, I woke up and I⁠—”

“Georgie,” She whines, drawing out the ‘e’ sound to further annoy me.

I finally relent, “Yes. He was magically there, and he met me in the yarn section, and he told me I was naughty, and all tied up.”

Franny’s screen freezes. Or she’s so still the frame looks like a photo. “You’re kidding.”

“I am absolutely not.”

“Oh my god!” She shrieks, screen-shaking, and I can’t tell exactly what she’s doing, but it appears like she’s jumping on her bed.

“And Abi hired me.”

“Oh, that’s such a perfect job for you. And Abi knows all about your HS, so she’ll totally understand when you need days off—” Franny chatters on and I just listen, and it’s only once I realize she’s asked me a question that I notice I haven’t actually been listening.

“What?”

“You just seem… distracted,” Eyebrows wiggle at me and I roll my eyes.

“It was… a really good day.” I tell her and she smiles.

“Hurray for good days. Now tell me what he’s like,”

I wake, heart racing, hands shaking, hair stuck every which way, and holy shit. I am so wet it’s practically a swimming pool down there. I have a second heartbeat, pulsing between my legs and making me ravenous. What the hell was I dreaming about? Noah. It was Noah. It’s so nice to have a full name to put to his perfect face. His smile flashes in my mind, and it gives my heart another steady leap.

The last time this happened, I couldn’t do anything about this because it wasn’t my house. This time? I am going to finish the job. My fingers trace down until they are right where I want them. It doesn’t take much, I was already pretty much there when I woke up, and so all it takes is a few calculated swirls of my fingers before I am shaking and shivering, and my head falls back, the orgasm racing through me and Noah’s name on my lips.

The thing is, no one ever tells you how to face the person you had a wet dream about, got off to the idea of their face being where your hands were. No one tells you how your cheeks light up scarlet, how every smile he sends your way makes you want to grab him and take him right there on the crafting table. But I have to be good, I have to keep myself in line.

It’s only the third day on the job, and if I intend to show Abi that I have what it takes to stay, I need to be on my best behaviour. I need to not think about him. I need to not think about⁠—

“Coming?”

“Excuse me?” I choke, eyes flashing up to where Noah is standing in front of me, the blue apron wrapped around his waist. He’s beaming, like he knows he’s caught me thinking about not thinking, and what I wouldn’t give to wipe that smug grin off his face.

“I asked if you were coming to lunch? Abi’s buying today to celebrate our new employee status, remember?”

“Oh. Yes. Um, let me just finish this,” I hold up the ball of yarn I was stocking.

“See you soon,” He sing-songs as he walks away.

I press my face into the yarn, stifling a scream. It’s very effective. I place the yarn on its respective shelf before making my way to the back room. The staff room is the entire back storage area, and Abi has it designed like a mini apartment. Everything is meticulously stored in crates and buckets on their floor-to-ceiling shelves, and it makes the room appear much larger than it is. There’s a soft black leather chaise I could totally take a nap on. There’s a tall wooden table to sit at for eating, with stools that match the wooden bar stool chairs at the kitchen island. Because, yes, the kitchen has a freaking island.