Love, Utley (Love Letters #1)

Perfect. The exact man I was hoping to avoid today.

“You alright?” The large man takes a step around the side of the desk.

I stop rubbing my elbow to hold up my hand, palm out.

He takes one more step before halting. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“You didn’t.” I don’t know why I deny it. It’s obvious he did. I’m on the floor, after all.

“Of course not.” He presses his lips into a line, and I think the jerk is trying not to smile. “I forgot how accident prone you can be.”

My mouth pops open, but before I can snap something at him, he bends down, hooks his hands under my arms, and lifts me to my feet.

A small sound croaks out of my throat as my heart stutters in my chest.

He shifts his hands so he’s gripping my upper arms, steadying me.

His scent surrounds me as we stand chest to chest.

It’s different than it used to be. Still soap and cologne, but more… grown up.

It’s too much.

Being this close… having him reference our history… it’s just all too much.

How dare he?

My nose starts to tingle.

I can’t let him have this control over me again.

My cheeks start to burn.

“Hannah.” His tone is gentle. And it’s worse than the teasing.

I straighten my shoulders. “I don’t know what you’re referring to, Mr. Lovelace.”

He narrows his eyes the tiniest bit as he takes a step back. But instead of just dropping his hands, he trails his fingers down the backs of my arms, ghosting them over my hurt elbow. “Sure you don’t.”

Goose bumps dance across my skin, but I ignore them. “Was there something you needed?”

Maddox crosses his arms over his massive chest, the fabric of his sleeves stretched tight over his biceps.

I don’t want to notice how good he looks. But again, he’s in a plain shirt and dark slacks, and he looks dangerously handsome.

I take a small step back.

He seems taller than he was in college, but maybe it’s just that he stands with even more confidence.

Mad Dog Maddox was impressive in his twenties, but in his thirties, he’s a force.

I cross my own arms, wanting to match his power pose.

My maroon and white striped shirt is buttoned all the way up, unlike Maddox’s, and at my collar are two long strips of fabric I’ve tied into a bow. It’s cute, but it’s also a shirt I wear often, so no one will think I’m trying too hard to dress up on a casual Friday. Because I’m not wearing this for Maddox. I’m not trying to impress him at all. And if I have the loose-fitted shirt tucked into my snug but stretchy ankle jeans, that’s because it’s comfortable and has nothing to do with me thinking my butt looks good in these pants.

Unwanted, a memory flashes in my mind of seeing Maddox on TV at some charity event with a stunning super-model-looking woman on his arm.

I cross my arms tighter across my body.