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“You’re not going to back out, are you, Wyn?”
Playfully, I tease the woman, hoping to make her smile—never have I wanted anything so desperately as to see Wyn’s grin again as well as to be the one who put it there.
In the three hundred plus days that she’s worked for my company, I’ve only seen that smile once, when Wyn was talking about her son.
It was intoxicating, that tiny glimpse of her happiness, and every day since, I’ve tried to recreate that moment to no avail.
All I usually get are half-smirks or fake, saccharin-sweet flashes of her white teeth meant to convey her condescension.
But, of course, Wyn doesn’t smile at my good-natured taunt. In fact, her lips do the opposite, curling downward at my words, and I scramble to get a different reaction from her.
Anything but her disappointment.
“Hmm, maybe I was mistaken. Guess I thought you’d love for the chance to prove me wrong.”
I push off the conference table, leaning into Wyn’s personal space, relishing when she stiffens at my proximity.
Then, as though realizing that she’s retreating, Wyn crinkles her adorable nose and squares her shoulders.
“Of course I’m not backing down! I’m going to win this bet and rub it in your face for the rest of your days.”
There’s my girl.
A flicker of hesitation darkens her eyes, and for a moment, sadness wafts off her, filling my senses.
Internally, I wince at the familiar tang of her distress, like a dish with too much lemon. Wyn always appears so calm and collected, but inside, there’s a bleakness she can’t always hide.
It makes me want to protect her—to take care of her and to have all that worry disappear, if only for a moment.
This is why I’m always trying to cheer her up, but Wyn never takes it as I intend. She’s got these walls up around her that I can’t figure out how to get past.
All I want is to know the real her behind them—to relish her happiness because the fleeting nibble I’ve seen isn’t nearly enough.
I blow out a breath, raking a hand through my ephemeral hair, Wyn’s gaze follows my movements.
Her eyes narrow, and she gathers up her notebook to leave when I reach out, gently grasping her elbow.
At my touch, sparks prickle across my fingers and up my arm, straight to my chest. Our gazes meet, and for a split second, longing arcs through between us.
Electric.
Potent.
Equal.
Yet, just as quickly as it came, it disappears. Wyn furrows her eyebrows, pulling her arm from my light hold.
“Is there something else you needed, Mr. Ettin?”
I rock back on my heels, curiosity swirling through me even as my body smolders from our brief contact.
As a Boggart, I know that Wyn’s attracted to me—but physical attraction isn’t all I’m looking for.
Does Wyn feel the spark in her heart when we touch?
“No, I don’t need anything else, unless you have more you wish to talk to me about.”
