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thoughts.
    It happened so fast!
    I didn’t even have the time to take it in or pay attention to the nuance of having his hands on my face! Gods, if I had known, I would have closed my eyes to memorize the feeling. Or wait, no—I’d keep them open and take in everything. Is his sweater more navy than indigo? Are his hands well manicured? Does his skin smell like anything specific? I’d vote for lemongrass or pine if I got to choose, but I’d be totally fine with any scent if I only knew what it was and could commit it to memory. But now that’s not going to happen, because I wasn’t prepared and I didn’t pay enough attention. This is the worst! Worse than that time I finished all the books that had been published so far in a series a full year before the final book came out. Worse than that time someone suggested that The Bronze Horseman was the next Outlander . This is even worse than the time I met one of my favorite authors at a signing and she was super rude and I went into an emotional shank spiral for weeks!
    Liam breaks into my swirling thoughts with a question. I don’t hear what he says, but I know I should answer him in some way. I want to ask him to put his hands on my face again, but that doesn’t seem appropriate. Quick, Miko, say something!
    “Have you ever had a Crunchwrap Supreme?” I don’t know why it comes out as some kind of angry demand.
    He takes a step back after my nonsensical reaction.
    “Uh—no, I can’t say I have.”
    “Well”—I point at nothing in particular—“you should. You’re really missing out.”
    On that genius pronouncement, I give up and head towards the front door of the building. Because really, bringing up the Taco Bell menu is a new low in my repertoire, and even I know when to run for cover and regroup.
    “So I’ll look for your email this week?” he calls after me.
    “Yep!”
    I make it all the way to my car before I admit it to myself: OK, not my best work.
    Seriously, how many times am I going to trip out and say something insane in front of him? I really need to come up with some kind of plan so I don’t keep finding myself in these situations!
    I shake my head in annoyance and turn the key in the ignition. Honestly, not one of my favorite book heroines would ever bring up a flattened fried burrito as the follow-up to the hero touching her lips. I mean, jeez, even Cinder acted more natural than that, and she was half cyborg!

Chapter THREE
    “Hey, Casidee,” I call to the open doorway.
    “Yes ma’am,” she answers before she’s even all the way inside my office. Taylor’s little sister is almost as tall as he is and certainly way too close to my age to be calling me ma’am . But she’s also southern and apparently can’t lose the manners no matter how many times I’ve asked her to. Landon, unsurprisingly, thinks she’s the greatest thing ever.
    When Tosh offered to let Landon and me have some office space in Mos Eisley’s massive HQ, I jumped at the chance. Max might feel weird about getting help from her family, but my brother’s company offices are state of the art and utterly gorgeous. There is a full-sized basketball court surrounded by vintage sports memorabilia and a kitchen that Fast Company described as “tech geek meets luxury chic” in an article last year. That same kitchen also always has at least ten kinds of cereal in the huge glass jars that line one wall. And each one of the six executive offices has a totally different feel, completely designed around the person who sits within it, but all of them feature the same color scheme—no easy feat. Plus, since I refused to let him pay me when I designed every single detail of the space, getting to use a couple of small offices now for a significant friends-and-family discount feels like a fair trade.
    I gesture to the chair in front of my desk.
    “Can you close the door? I need your help with a project.” Outside the glass wall of my office, a programmer rides by on a