“Hey! What about me?” Joey yells.

I turn my head. “You need to stay here and man the shop. What did you think I was going to close down for this?”

“God damn it! This is why we need another employee, Dylan. I fucking miss everything.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll give you all the details after I cut off his testicles.” Juls and I walk out of the shop together and towards her car as I give myself a mental pep talk. Yell first then remove balls or remove balls then yell. Hell, did it matter?

I’m slowly beginning to lose my edge as we walk into the crisp sleek foyer of the Walker & Associates building. Juls’ heels are clicking on the marble and I inwardly curse myself for not changing my outfit before I so bravely decided that this was a good idea. I’m wearing a pale blue button up shirt, skinny jeans that are dusted in flour, and my favorite ballet flats. This would have been so bad ass if I was wearing something sexy and revealing, showing Reese what he would never touch again. Damn it, Dylan. Think next time. At least my hair and makeup are on point. We step off the elevators onto the twelfth floor and I follow closely behind her, unsure where to go.

“Nervous?” she asks as she walks up to a small reception area.

“Nope, but he better be.” She throws her head back and laughs as I wiggle my brows.

“Julianna Wicks for Ian Thomas please,” she says to the pretty receptionist who smiles and picks up the phone, talking softly into it. She ends the call quickly.

“Go right in, Ms. Wicks.”

She shrugs her shoulders playfully. “I fucking love this shit. My man is so important that I need to check in with someone before I barge in.” I giggle at her and follow her through a closed door after she knocks quietly.

“There’s my girl. I’ve been waiting for you.” Ian stands up and walks around his desk, pulling Juls into his arms and smothering her with quick kisses. Christ, they were annoyingly adorable. “I’m starving and not just for food,” he whispers before his eyes flick to me. “Dylan. Are you joining us for lunch today?” he sweetly asks as he plays with the ends of Juls’ hair. He sounds sincere but I have a feeling that he’d much rather spend his lunch alone with my best friend.

I clear my throat. You can do this, Dylan. “Actually, I was wondering if Reese was here. I needed to speak with him.” Juls is too busy frantically working at loosening Ian’s tie to even remember that I am in the room. I’m sure she would have snuck in a bitchy remark had she been paying attention.

“Oh, of course.” He smiles wide. “Just continue down the hallway until you see the redhead at the reception desk. She’ll point you in his direction.” I nod and turn on my feet, giving Juls one last glance as I step out, closing the door behind me.

He’s married. He’s married. He’s married. Who cares how fucking insanely hot he is. He’s married. My thoughts are so loud in my head, I’m sure the redhead that I am now standing in front of can hear them. I smile weakly at her.

“May I help you?” she asks in a rather snippy tone.

“Um, yes. I would like to see Reese, please.”

She cocks her head and narrows her eyes. Jesus. Retract the claws. Picking up her phone, her eyes run slowly down my body. “You mean Mr. Carroll? And who may I say is asking for him?”

Mr. Carroll. Oh how fucking formal. I glare down at her. “Dylan.”

“Just Dylan?” Her tone is borderline bitchy and I am beyond over it at this point. Sweetie, this is not the day to test my patience.

“Yes, just Dylan,” I snap back, hands fisting at my sides.

She rolls her eyes and speaks softly into the phone, slamming it down with more force than is probably necessary. “Go on in, just Dylan.” She motions with a quick swipe of her hand towards a door that stands at the end of the hallway. What the hell is her problem?

“Thank you. Have a nice day,” I reply extra cheerfully to pluck her last nerve. She scowls. Mission Accomplished.

Not bothering to knock, I open the office door and step inside, stumbling a bit at the sight of the man behind the massive desk. Yup, that’s what he looks like. Completely perfect. His eyes slowly come up to mine from his computer screen and soften.

“Dylan, this is a pleasant surprise. I assume you received my package?”

I close the door behind me and cross my arms. “Yeah, cute pun. Do you have a minute?”

He smiles and I stumble a bit. “For you? I have several.”

Standing up, he gracefully moves his body around the desk and sits on the edge, crossing his long legs in front of him at the ankles and bracing himself on his hands. I shake my head at his cockiness. Damn it to hell. If he wasn’t so gloriously attractive, this would be so much easier. He stands before me in a light blue dress shirt, gray plaid tie and khakis, his hair a perfect mess and his green eyes freezing me where I stand. He raises an eyebrow, waiting for me to speak. I could speak. I had a lot to say. But right now, I wanted to either throw him down and fuck him right on his desk or slap him so hard across his face that he would feel it next week. Hmm, I could do both. Oh Chris, Dylan. No. Slapping him. That sounds satisfying. I move quickly, his eyes widening as I stop just in front of him and strike him across his face, a loud crack echoing throughout the room.

“Jesus Christ,” he almost yells, his hand coming up and rubbing his now reddened cheek. “What the fuck?”

“You fucking prick. Who the hell do you think you are?”

He stands up, towering over me in my flats. Fuck, he’s as big as a tree. “Okay, I probably deserved that.” His tone is sharp but he doesn’t sound angry. He seems more concerned than anything. “Look---” he pauses, rubbing his cheek, “---I’m sorry I kind of shut down after the bathroom. I’m not used to sex getting to me like that and I handled it like an asshole.”

I see red. “Are you serious right now? That’s why you’re sorry? Because you freaked out afterwards?”

“Yes, well that and the fact that those men saw you in there with me. I’m sure they knew exactly what we’d been doing.” He steps closer to me. “Why the fuck else would I be sorry? I’m not sorry it happened. Are you?”

I push against his chest but he doesn’t move. Damn it, I need to start lifting weights. “Yes, I’m sorry it happened. I do not fuck married men, Reese!” I’m shouting now and my throat begins to ache but not enough to make me stop. However, his current look of confusion is taking away some of my fire. He’s a smart guy. Why isn’t he grasping this?

“Okay, that’s good to know,” he says with a furrowed brow.

“Great. Now you know. So stay the fuck away from me.” I go to leave but am stopped by his grip on my arm, turning me around to face him.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

I step out of his grasp and look down at his left hand, narrowing in on his bare finger. “You asshole. Why don’t you wear your ring? Hoping to get your dick sucked behind that massive desk of yours by some girl that doesn’t know you’re married?”

His look stuns me. I had expected him to get angry with me for slapping him, maybe a bit disappointed in me for not wanting to pursue this any further, but the amused look on his face was not what I was expecting. He runs his hands down his face and laughs, stopping only when he sees my hardened expression.