Page 20 of Sugar
“Good, thank you.” I was relieved I managed the automatic response since my brain was stuck on how good he looked when he did that. I was equally relieved that I was able to tear my gaze away before my giant cup overflowed, and I made a mess of myself. I screwed the lid back on, giving the task more focus than it called for as I tried to figure out what was happening.
“Your friends, too?”
He must not have heard from Doug yet.
The pieces clicked together, and I realized he was networking. Or fishing for information again. Either way.
I had nothing to tell him that would help, so I went with a simple, “Good all around.”
His mouth tipped up a trace amount. Or maybe he had a twitch. I wasn’t sure, and his expression gave away nothing. “I?—”
His words were cut off by a loudly bellowed, “Any day now, Mads!”
Despite the scene he’d just made to get my attention, when I glared down the hall at my editor-in-chief, his focus wasn’t on me. His wide eyes were aimed at the man by my side. Even from a distance, I could see the red blush travel across Joel’s face as he leaned out of the open doorway. His already flustered expression turned to outright panic when he did a double take at the clustered group. Like something from a cartoon, his feet seemed to move at warp speed as he scrambled out into the hallway, making a beeline to them. “Dean Anderson.”
“Do people call you Mads?” Easton asked.
“Only my friends,” I bit out with a scowl, watching as Joel kissed ass.
“Noted,Madeline.”
Realizing how my tone and words came across, my gaze shot up.
He really is tall. At least an entire foot taller than me.
And good looking.
And…
What was I saying?
He didn’t look offended, but I still rushed to explain. “I hate when Joel calls me Mads since we arenotfriends. He’s a tyrant and a dictator. But you can call me Mads.”
His lips tipped, and it was definitely a kind of, sort of, maybe smile. “Even if everyone who works for me thinks I’m a tyrant and a dictator?”
I pretended to mull it over before offering an apologetic smile. “Maybe we should stick to Maddie then.”
“Does that mean we’re not friends?” His expression was blank, but there was a surprising hint of playfulness in his question.
I didn’t get the chance to respond before Joel suddenly approached—which was good since I had no clue what to say. He offered a hand that Easton accepted in a firm shake. “Joel McHenry, editor-in-chief of The Coastal Chronicle.”
I barely knew Easton myself, but for whatever reason, I felt pressed to make the introduction. “This is Easton Wells.”
“I know,” Joel said. I waited for him to either grill Easton or kiss his ass, but neither happened. Like his greeting to the dean, he kept it brief. “I’m a big fan of your bench.” He looked at me. “We have a meeting to get to, Mads.”
I’m gonna hit him with my water bottle.
Wait, what bench? Like a bench ad?
Somehow, I didn’t see Easton as the kind of lawyer who would need to take out ad space like that.
I forced a tight smile up at him. “Enjoy the rest of your tour. Don’t forget to get a cookie.”
I started to follow Joel when a hand wrapped around my wrist. Choking down a gasp, I looked back.
Easton didn’t drop his hold. He also didn’t speak.
“Uhh…” It was all I could muster with his long fingersstillwrapped around my wrist.
