“A mistake.” She says sharply, abruptly ending my thoughts as I snap my eyes to hers. She raises her head and looks me right in the eye; “Obviously, a big mistake.”
I frown, but when she pushes my arm away, I don’t stop her, and when she storms down the hall to the stairway, I don’t follow her either.
12
Quinn
It’s already after two o’clock in the afternoon by the time I realize I haven’t actually left my office since stepping into it. My stomach is the one that not-so-subtly reminds me that lunch was about two hours ago, and that I’ve been fueling myself purely with coffee since breakfast.
It’s also not like I’ve been hard at work either; quite the contrary actually. I’m distracted, and I’ve pretty much been spending my time all morning alternating between staring at the wall and staring out the window, with a few rounds of mahjong on my phone thrown in to mix things up. And what is it that has me so totally out of sync with the work I’d normally be throwing myself into?
Yeah, take one guess.
I’m still pissed about the previous night, not to mention every instance before that in which Logan feels such a need to be such a smug, cocky, dick. OK scratch that; I’m pissed that he keeps alternating between being a smug cocky dick half the time and a hot, unfairly irresistible dick the other half.
Part of me was insanely proud of myself for actually leaving his place the night before, especially in the manner I did; leaving him standing there and speechless. Logan Dempsey isn’t usually a guy without words, so getting that reaction was at least a bit of a win. But, it’s an empty one really. By the time I got back down to my place after storming off like that, I was already feeling sullen and more annoyed rather than triumphant by the whole encounter.
And of course, annoyingly turned on, after being in such close proximity to a shirtless, sweaty, tattooed and volatile Logan.
When I’d sat in my bed later after a shower, there was a dark sort of allure to thinking about what might have happened upstairs if I’d only let my guard down. One move; that’s all it would’ve taken for me to probably still be up there right now, reliving that night we had before with Logan’s perfect cock and incredible tongue pushing me higher and higher, until-
I’d bitten my lip as I’d looked at the vibrator - now washed of salad-crisper, thank you very much - sitting on my nightstand. I’d even almost reached for it until I’d groaned and rolled my eyes; as if giving in to the dirty thoughts running through my head right then would be like giving in to Logan.
…Even if part of me would love the idea of giving in to him.
So I walked in to work ticked off, pent up, and on edge. But it wasn’t until I’d gotten to my office - more specifically my assistant’s desk - that I’d gone from ticked-off to just plain pissed.
“Oh, Dr. Archer?” Carol, my assistant, had looked up from her desk with her usual heavy dose of eye-shadow and her amazing Staten Island accent; “Mr. Dempsey wanted me to let you know that he needs to reschedule the team meeting today. He’ll be in Washington D.C. for the evening.”
My first emotional response is actually one of relief; relief that I might actually get a whole day without that arrogant prick trying to insert himself into my life, or my thoughts. But then of course, I’m annoyed, since the meeting is actually an important one.
“That’s-”
What, ‘presumptuous of him’? Annoying? Typical Logan?
“Ok, thanks Carol,” I say, blowing air out of my cheeks; “We can just have Peyton sit in and relay the meeting notes back to-”
“Oh, actually Ms. Wheeler accompanied Mr. Dempsey to D.C.”
Yeah, that’s about when I see red. Of course he brought Ms. Teeny-bopper Mickey Mouse Club on an overnight “business trip”. Of course he did, the night after I manage to reject him and walk away feeling like I got the upper hand. It’s like his own personal little retort to my storming away from him the previous night; his own little “fuck you” right back.
And if that “fuck you” involves a “fucking Peyton”, I’m swear I’m quitting tomorrow and moving the day after.
“Dr. Archer?”
I shake my thoughts and look up from my desk to see Carol poking her head into my office; “Yes?”
“Sorry to interrupt, but there’s a courier package here for you?”
I frown; “OK, uh, thanks. You can just sign for it and I’ll get to it-”
“It’s a direct courier, signature only, from Mr. Dempsey.”
Oh now what.
I nod, furrowing my brow as Carol ducks back out of the room before returning with a sweaty looking hipster with a bike helmet and a bag full of brown-box packages; “Dr. Archer? Dr. Quinn A-” The kid starts to snicker before I level my coldest, bitchiest face at him and he just mumbles something about signing on the dotted line as he passes me his clipboard.