Delilah sat in the large conference room, surrounded by the stone-faced executives who ran Craig Realty like a well-oiled machine.
The air was thick with the scent of coffee and a hint of expensive cologne, and the sound of clicking pens and shuffling papers filled the silence as the meeting proceeded.
The head of the table, Mr. Thompson, a man in his late fifties with graying hair and sharp blue eyes, was discussing the monthly revenue figures, his voice a low, authoritative rumble.
Delilah's mind was only half engaged. She nodded at appropriate moments, occasionally jotting down a note, but her thoughts kept drifting back to Hunter- the way his laughter had followed her as she ran off after saying she would miss him.
All morning, her mind had been replaying their conversations, his laughter, and the way he looked at her with a knowing smile, as if he could always read her mind.
