Love, Utley (Love Letters #1)

Shit.

My jaw tightens.

I didn’t think that threat through.

Me: Please come sit with me. I don’t know these other people.

“Thanks for lunch.” One of the sales guys grins as he approaches the counter where all the food is spread out.

I slip my phone into my pocket, and as soon as I let go, it vibrates with a response.

Fucking hell.

“My pleasure.” It’s not a lie. But I didn’t do it for this guy. I did it for my Hannah.

The guy makes a humming sound as he moves past me to look at the options.

I eye the stack of sandwiches I specifically chose for Hannah. It’s dwindling. And I’m about to slap the next person that takes one.

I start to slide my fingers into my pocket to take my phone out when the door to the break room swings open again.

Disappointment hits me when Brandon walks in.

But then I see her.

My sweet Hannah girl.

Today, she’s in fitted black pants, a white shirt, matching white sneakers, and a checkered blazer.

God, she’s fucking adorable. Constantly wrecking me with these librarian fantasies.

I start to rock forward, ready to walk toward her, but I stop myself at the last moment.

If she was alone, I could maybe play it off, but that fucker Brandon has stuck himself at her side, and he’s already seen me leaving her office after the party. Not that he has any proof of wrongdoing, but he seems like the type of man-baby that would throw a fit over it. If for no other reason than he so desperately wants Hannah for himself.

Too bad she hates him.

I can tell.

“Damn, these cookies look good,” the guy still making his selection says to no one in particular.

With Hannah under surveillance, I turn and follow the sales guy, selecting the items I want for lunch. A little container of pasta salad, a sandwich, a bag of jalapeño kettle chips, one of the individually wrapped oatmeal raisin cookies, and a bottle of lemonade.

There are several long tables, and only about half have people at them so far.

I choose one at random and take a seat near the end.

I need Hannah to come sit near me. So I need to leave options open.

Two project managers, who I think arrived at the work party with Hannah, enter the room.

They come over to my table and leave their water bottles in front of two spots at my side.

“Hey, Mr. Maddox.” One of them greets me with a big grin.

“Afternoon.” I nod. “And just Maddox is good.”

She beams, and then the two of them get into the growing line for food.