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.
He’s barely out the door before my cellphone buzzes on my desk. I glance down, and my face instantly goes bright red before I hurriedly snatch the phone off the desk.
It’s Logan calling, of course. But it’s not who the number is that has me flushed pink as a tomato and looking quickly at the door to make sure Carol isn’t hovering. It’s what the picture is that pops up accompanying that number.
Because what flashes in big, high-definition pixels across my phone screen is a picture of Logan Dempsey’s cock.
“How did you get into my phone?!” I hiss, hunching over at my desk and turning away from the door.
I can hear him chuckle on the other end. “Do you think I got my good side?”
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out “the good side” of Logan that’s just seared itself across my brain. “Jesus, Logan, I mean what if someone saw-”
“You’re always calling me a dick, so I thought I’d deliver!” He snorts a laugh, and I’m grinding my teeth as I shake my head.
“When- I mean how did you get into my-”
“Listen, did you get the packages?” He says suddenly, cutting me off in a way that says there’s no way he’s going to tell me how he managed to get into my contacts list without me knowing about it. With a guy with his sort of resources though, I’m not sure I want to know.
“Yeah,” I mutter. “I got them.”
“Well, go ahead and open them, Doc!”
I furrow my brow. “What, now?”
“No better time than the present. Carpe diem, darlin.”
There’s something strangely chipper in his voice. A giddiness that’s more suspicious than anything else when you think about the man they’re coming from.
“OK, what is this, Logan.”
He sighs over the phone. “A present. From me to you.”
Ok, yeah, now I’m suspicious. “What kind of present,” I say evenly, wondering if I should expect some sort of live animal to jump out of any of the six packages sitting on the desk in front of me.
“You should open the smaller one first.”
I’m reaching for the box, ignoring every single voice in my head that’s telling me to just hang up and throw all these packages away. “Is something going to bite me, Logan?”
He laughs heartily as I apprehensively pull off the packing tape sealing the box and tear it open.
It’s totally full of batteries. Like, batteries of all different shapes and sizes; double-A’s, triple A’s, C’s, D’s; even a few USB charger cables.
“Ok, what the hell is-”
“Quinn, Quinn, Quinn,” He sighs. “Look, I felt bad the other day about the whole, you know, the whole thing with stealing your, uh, toy like that.”
My face goes hot instantly as I close my eyes, leaning over my desk and rubbing the bridge of my nose between my fingers. “Logan, what-”
“Hey, actually I’ve gotta run for this meeting, so you just go ahead and open the rest-”
“Oh, the meeting with Peyton?” I say icily. I want to hear him deny, or falter, or lie. Anything really.
But he doesn’t do any of that. He just laughs.
“Ok, you know what, fuck off, Lo-”
“Jesus, Quinn!” He hoots, laughing his ass off;. “That jealous streak is crazy! You know, you should really deal with that sometime.”
“I am not jealous!” I hiss, feeling totally, completely, and utterly so.
“Well, let me know how that’s going for you later,” he says, and I can practically hear him grinning that smug smirk through the phone. “Enjoy your presents, darlin.”
I slam the phone face-down on the desk, muttering under my breath as I stare at the five remaining boxes sitting on top of the work I’ve ignored all day. I want so badly to just shove them all into my waste basket and call it a day, but I also know that the curiosity is killing me.