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Perfect Regret

Perfect Regret (Bad Rep #2)(16)
Author: A. Meredith Walters

“Hey, Riley,” he said in a tone that dared me to ignore him. I lifted my hand in a wave without facing him. I resolutely opened my folder and tried to focus on the words blurring on the page in front of me. I felt the back of my neck flush and my ears burned hot.

“Do you work here?” Gracie asked in a high-pitched voice that could cut glass. Clearly Garrett’s seductive charms were working on my friend.

Garrett walked around until he was stood directly in front of my desk, making ignoring him impossible. He was doing this on purpose. He looked down at me, with an amused smirk on his face. He was enjoying my discomfort. In fact, he seemed to be loving it.

“I sure do. I’m part of the crew working on the renovations,” he said, still looking at me, even though he was talking to Gracie. I met his eyes directly and even though my face was most likely bright red I met his bold gaze head on. I would not let him see me sweat.

“Oh, that’s great. We’ll get to see you all the time then,” Gracie said, trying to get his attention. Unfortunately for her, we were too busy playing the first one who looks away is a pu**y.

“Super,” Garrett responded dryly, looking as though he wanted to laugh. Oh f**k this. I got to my feet.

“Gracie, Damien, you want a coffee?” I asked. Sure I was giving him the satisfaction of seeing me run but at that moment I didn’t care. I just needed some breathing space. Because seeing him again, so soon after our night together, was like dunking me in a molten fire pit. I tingled from my scalp to my toes with an awareness of the way this man had touched and kissed me, even though my mind was still hazy with the details. Clearly my body remembered all too well.

And I did not appreciate the reminders here of all places. This was my internship. My world. And Garrett did not belong inside my happy little bubble. Seeing him threw me in ways I couldn’t explain.

“I’ll come with you,” Damien said quickly. I had to suppress my groan. Could this get any better? I looked at Garrett again, whose amusement had faded. Damien reached out to touch my arm but I moved away before his fingers could make contact. Something flashed in Garrett’s eyes and his face darkened dangerously. He flicked his eyes from me back to Damien and he almost seemed to be working through something in that head of his. Seeing him focus on anything was more of a shock than finding him working here.

But one thing was for sure, his nonchalant demeanor was noticeably absent as he stared down my oblivious ex-boyfriend.

“Garrett, when is your next gig? I hate that I missed the last one,” Gracie said excitedly and I used that as my cue to leave. With Damien on my heels, I hurried to the break room.

“Ri, wait up!” Damien called out and grudgingly waited for him to join me. “You okay?” he asked, peering at me closely. Despite how horrible our end was it didn’t change the fact that Damien Green knew me better than most. He knew when I was rattled. And I was most definitely feeling rattled.

I gave him a thin smile. “Fine. Just need some coffee. You know I’m like Dawn of the Dead until I get my caffeine,” I replied. Damien smiled back tentatively, looking a little antsy. His eyes darted around the room, maybe looking for any possible weapons. The boy already knew what I was capable of with a lamp at my disposal.

“I mean are you okay with us doing this together. I know it’ll be..”

“Awkward? Weird? Annoying as hell?” I interjected before he could finish.

Damien lifted his shoulders in a shrug and his smile was strangely more relaxed. As though my snarkiness was something he could deal with. As opposed to the giant pile of sad I had been before.

“Exactly,” he said softly, staring at me in that way of his that at one time made me weak in the knees. He stepped closer, his hand resting on my arm meaning to be comforting. Really it just made me feel icky. Like I wanted to scrub myself clean after he touched me. Who the hell did he think he was talking and touching me like this? I was torn between self-righteous anger and total dumbfoundeness.

“Ah, so this is where the coffee is,” I jerked back as though doused in ice water. Garrett moved purposefully into the room. I blinked in surprise as he walked between Damien and me. Damien stumbled backwards. Did Garrett really just shoulder check Damien?

Damien frowned at Garrett and I knew he was irritated by the interruption. “Let’s get back to our desks, Ri,” Damien said trying to meet my eyes again.

Garrett poured his coffee into a thermos and screwed on the lid. “Actually, can I talk to you for a sec, Ri,” Garrett sneered, turning around to look at me. His expression dared me to refuse. To ignore him and walk away.

“Yeah, sure,” I said defiantly. Damien’s frown deepened as he looked between Garrett and me as though trying to decipher the mysterious vibe that was most certainly humming between us.

Garrett glanced at Damien. “This isn’t a group conversation.” I had to cover my mouth so I wouldn’t chuckle out loud. Damien’s face flushed in indignation and I maliciously enjoyed my ex’s discomfort. Without another word, Damien left, though he looked anything but happy about it.

“Rude much?” I asked testily, swallowing the enjoyment I felt at Garrett’s posturing and intimidation of Damien. Crossing my arms over my chest, I leveled him with my best you are wasting my time look. Garrett took a drink of his coffee and shoved his other hand in his jean pocket. He had a smudge of dirt across his cheek and I had to stop myself from wiping it off. Not because I wanted to touch him or anything. It was just seriously messing with my OCD.

“If I thought you actually cared about me being rude to that douche bag, I might actually apologize,” Garrett said, his mouth twitching in an effort not to smile. Well I’m glad I amused him so freaking much. That’s me, Riley Walker, three ring circus.

I started to tap my foot to indicate my impatience. Garrett took another drink. “Now who’s being rude,” he commented lazily as though he had all the time in the world to taunt me.

“Don’t you have a job to do? Because I sure as hell do,” I bit out, feeling irrationally frustrated with the whole situation.

“You’re such a prickly little pear, aren’t you?” he mused, causing me to grit my teeth. I didn’t respond, knowing that’s exactly what he wanted. And I was feeling very oppositional. Garrett put his thermos down on the table, and mirrored my stance by folding his rather muscular arms (come on, they were practically on display in his too tight wife beater) over his chest.

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