“Right,” she stuttered slightly, her eyes meeting mine for a quick second before darting away. “She helped me figure out how to charge it to the right account. And the rest is history! It took some time to get here because I had them assemble it rather than have me try. I’m horrible at that stuff. I once tried to put together an IKEA desk in college. It ended up being a botched bookshelf.” She laughed.

I just stared. “So, you decided I needed a chair—without asking me. Then, you bought something and charged it to the company—again, without asking. And you expect me to be happy?”

“Well”—her fingers nervously wrung together—“not yet. You haven’t even sat in it.”

I looked down at the chair with a heavy amount of doubt. I didn’t know how one black leather chair could possibly be any different from another, but I found myself agreeing to take it for a test drive.

She jumped with excitement, moving my chair out of the way before putting the new one into position. I would have offered to help, but I was still a bit miffed.

And if I were being completely honest?

I enjoyed watching her sexy little ass as she bent over, checking the height and removing the random sales stickers that still clung to the leather.

Yeah, I knew it; I was going to hell.

“Okay! It’s ready!” she announced, holding her hands out, as if she were one of those models on The Price Is Right.

I took a hesitant couple of steps forward before turning and lowering into the chair. An involuntary groan escaped my lips as my body melted into the plush leather back.

“See? It’s good, right?”

“Fuck, how much was this thing?” I said as my eyes closed in bliss.

My back had been in knots for weeks—a combination of stress and lack of physical movement. My body was used to moving, either from regular workouts or just the hustle and bustle of life. This solitary existence was taking its toll, and I didn’t think I’d experienced any real kind of relief until I’d slid into that chair.

“Not much, I promise. Not everything amazing has to cost a fortune,” she replied. “It’s like being hugged by the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man, huh?”

I lifted one eyelid. “How do you even know who that is? Aren’t you, like, twenty?” I asked.

“Twenty-two,” she answered, her arms wrapped tightly around her waist. “And I watch movies.”

“I used to love that movie. All the ghosts and the green goo everywhere. Totally disgusting,” I said, my head resting against the back of the chair. “I don’t know why I just told you that.”

She smiled. “It’s because you’re finally relaxing. Maybe now you can get some work done,” she said, patting my shoulder.