Chapter 3

I stared at the glowing gold script until the words burned into my retinas.To return to your body, you must kiss Timothy Cullen.

“Kiss him?!” I roared, my voice vibrating in Tim’s broad chest like a broken foghorn.

“I’d rather swallow a box of rusted thumbtacks!” Was this a sick prank, or cosmic punishment for wishing he was a waste of skin?

I aggressively crumpled the parchment into a ball and shoved it deep into the pocket of Tim’s suit jacket. My brain couldn't process supernatural threats before caffeine anyway.

First, I had to survive my morning routine in Timothy Cullen’s huge ass body. Showering in my apartment was a catastrophe.

His six-foot-two frame barely fit under my showerhead, knocking over every single shampoo bottle. Washing my face meant maneuvering giant, heavy hands over a sharp jawline.

And shaving? I nearly sliced off his signature chin dimple trying to navigate a razor.

Then came the wardrobe crisis. With zero men's clothes in my closet, I was forced to wear a spare gym outfit from my car trunk—a ridiculously oversized grey hoodie and baggy black sweatpants.

I caught my reflection in the hallway mirror before leaving. I looked like a disgraced pro athlete hiding from the paparazzi.“It doesn't matter,” I grumbled, grabbing my work tote. “Work comes first. Work always comes first.”

Running on pure autopilot, I marched out the door, slammed a double espresso at the corner cafe, and boarded the subway.

I arrived at Reijin Travel Agency at exactly 7:45 AM, ready to destroy my morning reports. I swiped my keycard, stepped into the elevator, and rode it up to the fourth floor.

When the doors slid open, total darkness greeted me.The lobby lights were off. The reception desk was unmanned. The familiar hum of printers and computers was dead silent.

I stood frozen in the doorway, keycard hovering in midair. “What in the world...?” I whispered, my deep baritone echoing in the hollow space.

Then, like a bucket of ice water dumped over my head, reality crashed back in.

“The higher-ups decided to reward all of us with a weeklong holiday!" The Manager’s cheerful voice echoed in my memory. The vacation. The week off. The entire agency was officially closed for seven full days.

I slapped a giant palm against my forehead. I was so consumed by the panic of turning into a man that I had completely forgotten we were on mandatory leave.

“Great. Outstanding,” I muttered, turning back toward the elevator. “Now I’m stuck in a man’s body with nowhere to go.”

Clack. Clack. Clack.

A sharp, echoing sound stopped me in my tracks. It was the unmistakable heel-click of stiletto shoes walking down the main hallway toward the lobby.

I spun around. Out of the shadows stepped a figure wearing my favorite fuchsia dinner gown—now horribly wrinkled—and clutching my designer handbag like a blunt weapon.

My own face stared back at me. Dark circles bruised my eyes, my hair stuck out in wild directions, and my lips were pressed into a desperate line.

Timothy Cullen had also forgotten about the holiday.

“Kingston?” my voice squeaked out from my own mouth, trembling with raw exhaustion.

“Cullen,” I rumbled back, crossing my broad arms. “Don’t tell me you came here to work.”

“I didn’t know where else to go!” Tim wailed in my voice, taking two clumsy steps forward in my heels before wincing in pain.

“Your apartment key wasn't in your bag! I slept in my car outside the building! My spine feels like an accordion, and these heels are torture devices!”

He collapsed against the reception desk, looking utterly pathetic inside my pristine frame.

“Why didn't you just call me?” I asked.

“Because I was too busy losing my mind!” he snapped, pointing my manicured finger at me. “And then I woke up in my driver's seat with this ridiculous piece of paper on my chest!”

My heart slammed against Tim’s ribs. “A piece of paper?”Tim pulled an exact duplicate of the glowing golden note from my bag.

“It says I have to kiss you to get my body back,” Tim whispered, sheer horror lacing his tone. “Tell me you didn't get one too.”

I slowly reached into my hoodie pocket, pulled out my crumpled note, and held it up in the dim light.

Tim stared at it, his jaws—my jaws—dropping open in absolute shock.“

So... we both have to kiss each other?” Tim squeaked out, pointing between us. “Do we do it right now? On the floor of the empty lobby?!”

Before I could answer, a violent, thunderous roar erupted from my midsection. Tim’s hyper-efficient metabolism was demanding immediate fuel.

He blinked at my stomach, then looked up into my eyes as a sudden smirk formed on my face.

“Well,” Tim chuckled nervously in my voice. “Judging by that earthquake in your belly, you’re starving. How about we get breakfast first and figure out how we're going to survive seven days of this nightmare?”