Break her computer

The morning flew by—meetings, check-ins, endless forms to update from her months away. Emily had just started on the last of the quarterly report corrections when her screen froze.

Not just a hiccup.

A full crash.

Mouse unresponsive. Keyboard blinking. Spreadsheet locked mid-edit. Her fingers hovered, helpless.

“Shit,” she whispered, glancing at the time. Almost noon.

She called the help desk.

Five minutes later, a knock at her open door announced him.

The IT guy—broad-shouldered, compact build, close-cut beard. Not the usual kid they sent. This one looked mid-thirties, maybe a few pounds past lean, but solid. Practical cargo pants, polo shirt stretched just a bit tight across his chest. Name tag read Dale.

“System crash?” he asked, voice deep but calm.

“Yeah—froze completely. Didn’t save the last hour either, I think.”

He stepped in without hesitation, already pulling latex-tipped gloves from his pocket. “Mind if I take a look?”

Emily stood and moved aside, brushing past him in the tight space behind her chair. His arm didn’t move—he let her body press lightly against him as she passed. Not aggressively. Just… didn’t flinch.

“Outlook and the main drive locked together,” he muttered. “Happens when the auto-sync fights the permissions update. Happens more on return-from-leave logins. Gotta do a hard flush.”

She blinked. “A what now?”

He smirked without looking up. “Just means I have to shut it all the way down. Unplug, cache-clear, new login. Could take twenty minutes, maybe longer.”

Emily sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “Great.”

“Go to lunch,” he said simply, already crouched under her desk. “I’ll have it ready by the time you’re back. You leave anything open I shouldn’t see?”

She hesitated.

“No. It’s all work stuff.”

He nodded.

But when she turned, she felt it again—his gaze, just a moment too long, resting on the back of her legs as she walked to the door.

“Enjoy your break,” he said behind her.

She didn’t reply.

But her skin flushed all the same.