Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 28599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 143(@200wpm)___ 114(@250wpm)___ 95(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 143(@200wpm)___ 114(@250wpm)___ 95(@300wpm)
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
1
Elle
I sigh as I click aimlessly around on my computer screen, bored. All afternoon I’ve been watching the clock, but time is passing so slowly I’m starting to wonder if the clock is broken. I want it to be five o’clock so I can go home. To him.
My job is pretty dull on the best of days, but today is unbearable because I’ve had next to nothing to do all afternoon. Yet I’m required to sit here at my desk, just as “face time.” It’s ridiculous. I’d be better off at home, relaxing while watching TV, but corporate America doesn’t work like that. The powers that be want you to put in the time, even if it consists of doing absolutely nothing.
Sighing, I look around. My head throbs, and to give my eyes a rest from the screen, I sneakily switch my monitor off. If someone comes in, I can always quickly switch it back on again, but for now, I can’t stand the electronic glare a moment longer. Besides, it’s not like I was actually doing anything, other than discreetly playing Solitaire.
The now-black surface gives me instant relief. I hadn’t realized my head was throbbing until this moment, and the pounding abates somewhat. My reflection stares back at me from the darkened monitor and I grimace a little because I’m not exactly what people would refer to as “pretty.” Instead, my face is round, framed by long, curly brown hair, with a button nose and a too-big forehead. The cheap dress shirt I’m wearing is pale pink and I’ve done the buttons up all the way to the top to make sure my huge cleavage is kept in check. But my boobs aren’t the only thing about my body that’s “unprofessional.” I’m curvy everywhere, and my wide ass and thick thighs are much happier in a loose dress or a pair sweat pants, instead of being squeezed into a tight pencil skirt.
My phone vibrates in my purse where it sits below the desk. My hand burns with the intense urge to immediately grab it and see if it’s a text - a text from him. But I restrain myself. My manager, Angela, is in her office, which is right across from mine. I can’t see her at the moment, but I can hear her rummaging through her files while huffing through her nose. Angela could burst in at any moment and see me with my cell in my hand, which would be death because she has a strict “no-phone” policy here at Herald Enterprises. It’s something she made up because obviously, this is a big company and people use their phones at work. But that’s Angela: always making up her own rules with which to terrorize us. Even worse, I really need this job, so I can’t take the chance. If Angela catches me, she’ll fire me on the spot, I’m certain. As a result, here I am, trying to play by my manager’s ridiculous, made-up rules.
But another buzz from inside the fake leather walls of my purse makes my hand twitch. I know it’s a text from him and I need to know what it says. I lean forward across my desk a little so I can peer across the hall into Angela’s office. But I still can’t see her. Good. Maybe I can just risk a quick peek?
Before I can make a move, a delivery man with several large boxes on a trolley arrives, blocking my view into Angela’s office. Then, my manager appears in her doorway and starts checking the delivery. She’s not paying attention to me – yes, this is my chance!
I reach down and plunge my hand into my purse, scooping up my cell. As soon as the screen lights up in my palm, butterflies erupt in my belly when I see his name: Hunter. There are two texts from him, and I immediately open them.
“I was sad I didn’t get to see you before I left this morning,” the first one reads. It’s followed by: “Which sexy dress shirt are you wearing today?”
My cheeks turn hot as I feel a blush spreading across my face. It’s just as well that Clara, my coworker, is on maternity leave with her new baby for the time being. I’ve been missing her, especially on dull days like today, but at least I have our office to myself now. After all, these texts are so wrong, and from my blushing and giggling Clara was starting to suspect that I have a secret boyfriend. But actually, I don’t, because the truth is much worse. Hunter isn’t my boyfriend; he’s my stepdad.
Still, I love texting with him and giggle as I type.
“You know I hate these dress shirts!”
“Yep,” comes his reply immediately. “But I don’t.”
“And why’s that?” I teasingly text back.