Sleet Sugar by S.J. Tilly
CHAPTER NINE
IZZY
If today I could be any animal for the day, it would be a Banana Slug. It’s a real thing. I looked it up. That’s what I did between meetings - I looked up lists of the world’s ugliest, slowest, worst animals, to try to define today. And it’s not even noon yet.
My first meeting of the day. Was a mother-trucking disaster. Of course it was. Why wouldn’t it be? I still landed him as a client, but it was by far the worst meeting I’ve ever hosted. Thankfully, this guy was right out of college and looked nervous enough that he probably only heard about half of what I said.
After that, I had some time to burn before a conference call. I obviously spent that time dwelling on this morning’s disaster and researching bizarre animals. I’m a little jealous of the Banana Slug, since it can live underground for years at a time. I wouldn’t mind that ability right about now. Banana Slugs can also have penises as long as their own bodies. Not a skill I require, but still interesting.
Exiting out of my animal search, I see the form that I’ve been waiting for is in my email. I commandeered this office for my call, and it’s turned out to be a great hiding space. But I suppose I should wrap this up and then go find Dad. So I print, scan, and email the form back.
With my paperwork taken care of, I shove my half-eaten bag of Starbursts into my bag while looking around to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything. This is a small office meant for communal use. There are no outside windows since it’s an interior room, and no windows into the hall, so it’s more like a closet, but it’s clean. Seeing I have all of my things, I flick off the light and open the door.
Before I can take one step forward, a figure fills the doorway, backlit by the hallway lights.
The form is large. And manly. And one I know intimately.
“Zach?” I whisper, hardly recognizing my own voice.
“Sugar - " he half-says, half-growls his pet name for me.
We step forward at the same moment. My body strikes his. But instead of halting his motion, he wraps me up in his arms and continues into the dark office as if I weigh nothing.
My hands are gripping the front of his shirt, pulling him closer, as if he’s trying to get away. And his large hands are splayed across my back, searing my skin through my dress.
In one motion, Zach kicks the door shut behind us and spins, pressing my back against the hard surface.
Without thought, I stretch up to meet his lips with my own. This kiss is nearly as frantic as our first, but there’s an intimacy that comes from having been here before.
He has a small scar marring his lower lip that I didn’t notice until halfway through our date. I trace it with my tongue.
Zach groans and presses his growing hardness against my belly. He nips at my lip, in the same place where the scar is on his, and I smile.
I have a vision of today’s blue wrap dress on the floor and my legs around his waist. The turtledove is wide awake in my chest and she’s thrashing around, trying to take flight. That’s when the reality of what we are doing hits me.
Releasing the material of his shirt, I flatten my palms and push him away.
To his credit, he doesn’t resist. Our heavy breathing fills the small office.
With the only illumination coming from the small strip of light leaking in from under the door, all I can see is his silhouette. I want him, so badly. But this is wrong on so many levels. He’s not just a hockey player, which I vowed to never date again... he’s a hockey player on my dad’s team. I need to think with my brain and not with my ovaries.
“We can’t,” I pant.
“I know. Not here.”
I shake my head, even though I’m not sure if he can see me. “No, Zach. We just can’t. I can’t.”
“Why not?” He steps towards me.
“You’re a hockey player.”
His responding huff of laughter pisses me off, so I pinch his chest. His big, muscular chest.
“Sugar, don’t tell me you don’t like hockey. That, I just won’t believe.”
I realize that after pinching him, I somehow started caressing his chest. I snatch my hand back.
“No. I mean, yes. I do.” I need to get away from this man. I can’t think with him this close to me. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”
I don’t give him a chance to reply. I yank the door open, grab my bag off the floor where I dropped it, and dart into the safety of the brightly lit hallway.
I’ve gone a few paces, when I hear the door click behind me. I imagine Zach had to take a moment to straightenthings out. Which reminds me to run a hand over my hair to ensure I don’t have any flyaways that would tell of our misdoings.
I’ve just lowered my hand back to my side when my dad appears, stepping into the hall just a few doors ahead of me.
“Ready for lunch?” he asks as soon as he spots me.
“Starved.” I paste on a smile.
“Perfect, let’s go.” Then Dad looks past me, down the hallway. “Zachary - you free for lunch? Want to join Isabelle and myself?”
Please say no. Please say no. Please say no.
“I’d love to.”
Forking hell.
