My apologies for missing the update yesterday! But that means two for today!

As always, thanks to Fran for her beta skills and Jill, Ariel, and Pearly for prereading.

xxx


-66-

"Hijo de tu puta madre, ¿cuál es tu maldito problema?" Angela Weber comes blazing through my doorway, slapping anything within reach—my arms, my chest, even my head.

"Hey, whoa, wait a damn second, what is your malfunction?" One arm is instantly guarding my head, the other coming out to hold back the onslaught Weber is raining down on me.

"Estúpido," she growls, shoving me back into my office and slamming the door behind me.

Briefly, I remember my little mess. I'm sure there are signs of it on my clothes, if not also on my desk. Luckily, she's too pissed off to look anywhere but my dumb face.

"Okay, that one I got. But what's the fucking problem?" I ask, leaning back against my desk.

"You, bro, you're the fucking problem!"

"I'm gonna need more than that, Ang," I shrug.

"I just watched through your little date! What the fuck were you thinking? Sex isn't off the table? IT CERTAINLY FUCKING IS OFF THE TABLE."

Angela takes a step towards me, and before she has a chance to bash my head again, I dart around to the other side of my desk, plopping my ass in the chair. I feel my shoe slide on a slick spot on the floor underneath my desk. Missed a spot. Gross.

But I don't have time to dwell on it since that's when I notice her attire.

Angela Weber is wearing pajamas.

"Ang, it's like, almost one in the morning. What are you doing here?" I ask, smirking.

"Saving you from yourself, asshole. What were you thinking? Explain. Now," she demands, stomping her foot that I now realize is clad in a fluffy, purple slipper.

"Think about it, Ang. I have to convince her I'm into her. If I said sex was off the table, would I have gotten a second date?" I keep my voice calm—level—hiding my inner self freaking the fuck out.

She narrows her eyes, leaning on the desk to bring her face level to mine. I have to remember my training and keep my face passive.

I'm doing a damn good job until a bang erupts from my computer, along with a loud string of "ow, ow, ow, shitfuckdamn!"

Bella stubbed her toe. Worse timing fucking ever, not that there's ever a good time for a toe stubbing.

"What was that?" Angela accuses, while I'm frantically trying to close the window.

"Just checking in on one of my subjects, no big deal," I mutter, the screen getting bigger when I hit the maximize button instead of the 'x.'

"Edward Anthony Cullen, that is not a subject, that's a Bella!"

"I mean, she's not not a subject," I grumble, my hands falling in my lap in defeat.

The room is silent for a beat too long, and when I look back to Weber, she has her arms crossed over her chest, her hip cocked, and her brow raised. I swear she's even tapping her foot.

"You're off the case, Cullen. And you better get that shit off your computer, too."


I love Angela. Js. ;)