All of Him

Copyright © 2022 by Kat ConnellAll rights reserved. Visit my website at www.KatConnellAuthor.comCover Designer: Jess Slavik, Sore Eyes Design, www.soreeyesdesign.comEditor and Interior Designer: Jovana Shirley, Unforeseen Editing, www.unforeseenediting.com No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. For Mom—for reading everything I’ve ever handed you. Contents 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 Acknowledgments About the Author 1 Amanda I RUSHED INTO THE elevator as the doors closed, tripping over the threshold and not-so-gracefully shoulder-checking the wall. My boss held back a smirk, chuckling silently to himself and averting his eyes. He didn’t seem fazed; he was used to my general lack of coordination. I stood up straight and fixed the sandal strap that had come off of my heel, out of breath. “Did we have a scotch this morning, Amanda?” I unnecessarily tipped my head back and groaned. “It’s a wonderful day, Claude,” I answered, ignoring his remark. And it generally was. There was nothing to complain about, except that my coffee hadn’t hit me yet. I checked out his outfit as we rode up the elevator—jeans, black dress shoes, and the most magnificent plaid sport coat. Browns and oranges intertwined like an autumn orgy, contrasting the current summer heat. Claude was the best-dressed man I had ever met in my life, and I couldn’t have asked for a better boss. He was a godsend. “I, personally, had a great scotch this weekend.” Claude spoke through the tranquility of the elevator. He closed his eyes and breathed in through his nose, as if to remember the smoky aroma, his chest puffing out as his lungs filled with air. “I’m too young for scotch,” I mumbled, taking a sip of my coffee. “Bullshit,” he responded, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Listen to an old man and try it.” “Maybe,” I sighed as we got off the elevator. If I was being honest with myself, I wasn’t going to have scotch for another hundred years. We walked silently together down the hall toward our area of the office as a chunk of something that could only be identified as probable asbestos material fell from the ceiling. Neither of us even acknowledged it. Instead, Claude disappeared into his office with a wave, and I plopped dramatically down into my chair. Despite the sarcastic attitude I gave off, I wasn’t a miserable human being. I only wished that something interesting would happen around the office once in a while. Perhaps a water main break could shake up the day? It was like I entered the front doors every morning and those hours were sucked into a vacuum. It also didn’t help that Penny Pennington was in the cube next to me. “Good mooorning, Miss Amanda!” she practically sang from three feet away. It was a good thing that she couldn’t see my face as it twisted into an unattractive expression I’d never be able to re-create. It would’ve made a good selfie. “Did you see the new hottie down in HR?” I raised my eyebrows, intrigued. I had hoped for things to be shaken up. “Do we still say the word hottie?” I asked, pretending not to seem interested. She didn’t respond, so I tried again. “Anyway, how was your weekend?” As much as this girl got on my nerves, she was too sweet to be mean to, and she always had a good story. They usually didn’t make much sense, but I treated them as wake-up puzzles for my brain on Monday mornings. Penny tales, plus caffeine, were how I functioned. “Oh my gosh, Amanda,” she started with a gasp, the “hottie” seemingly gone from her mind. This was going to be a good one; I could feel it. “My sister got a hernia and tried to fix it with a cucumber! We were in the hospital for hours on Saturday!” See? There were so many questions. Like, What kind of hernia? Where did the cucumber come into play? Did it work? I took a big gulp of coffee to help me comprehend the story as my computer turned on. The trick with Penny was not to ask questions. I’d made that mistake once, and, by God, it was tempting, but not worth it. Her answers sent my brain into an endless series of mental cartwheels that couldn’t be stopped. I nearly fell out of my chair, trying to think. Sip slowly and try to understand the cucumber, I told myself. After waking up some and checking my email, I headed to Claude’s office to get my assignment for the week. When I walked into his office, it was obvious that he was already having a rough day. His face was almost touching the computer screen, and he grimaced as he read. “Amanda!” He beamed as I walked in, like he hadn’t just been in a completely different state. “Come in! Come in!” I pulled over one of his rickety office chairs that should’ve been thrown away in 1997 and sat in it, hoping it didn’t break. “I have your assignments for the week, and you can pass this packet to Penny too.” He handed me two manila folders—one with my name and one with Penny’s. He did this so that