Love, Utley (Love Letters #1)

I’m lingering.

I know I am, and it’s starting to feel obvious, but I want to see her. And I don’t want to do it by barging into her office first thing on a Monday morning.

There’s no reason I can’t change the company rules and lift the no-fraternizing policy, but I’m almost certain Hannah wouldn’t like that. And the last thing I want to do is make her uncomfortable at work.

I add another packet of sugar to my coffee mug and stir it with the same spoon I’ve been using for the last ten minutes.

As certain as I am that Hannah wouldn’t want to be that girl dating the boss, I’m also just as certain that she wants to date me too.

I almost snort.

Dating is such a lame word for what I want from Hannah.

I want more than the occasional dinner out and texts in the evening.

I want everything.

Lifting my mug, I lean against the counter in the break room and take a sip of my coffee while I pretend to read an email on my phone.

When I got home early yesterday morning, after spending a handful of hours sleeping in Hannah’s tiny-ass bed with my body wrapped around hers, it hit me.

I don’t want to wait.

I don’t want to wait to tell her how much she means to me. How much she’s always meant to me.

I don’t want to wait years before I ask her to move in with me.

I don’t want to wait at all.

We already lost so much time together. And if I think on it too much, I might just lose my mind. Or I might hire that guy Waller knows to go burn Essie’s house down.

I take another sip of my coffee.

I’m not going to dwell on the past anymore.

It happened. It’s over. And now—

The break room door opens, and my brown-eyed beauty walks in.

My lips curl up into a smile, but I stay exactly where I am.

Hannah is a whole new person now, just like I am. She’s lived a life’s worth of experiences, just like I have.

Our lives were so different.

Mine was on the road, playing ball professionally. The glamour, physical pain, money, fame. Never knowing who wants to be close to you for you or who is just inching closer to try and hitch a ride in your wagon.

Hers was here. So close to me, but completely out of reach. She lost people, gained a ward, then knit her family so closely around her she was never alone. The love in her home is palpable. And I want my house filled with that. I want to feel that warmth when I step through the front door.

“Morning.” Her cheeks are already turning pink, and I hope she’s thinking about my lips on hers.

“Good morning,” I greet her in return.

An older guy, who I think works in billing, is sitting at one of the long tables in the room, and he lifts his eyes from his phone just long enough to say hello to Hannah.

In the week we’ve been in this new office space, I swear I’ve seen that man come in early every day just to sit in here and eat a pair of donuts. He’s wearing a wedding ring, and I have to assume either his wife won’t let him eat donuts at home or he doesn’t like being at home.

Won’t be me.