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One step at a time, Adam.
After a few more moments of freaking out and breathing hard, I feel calm enough to head outside and face Nova.
I turn the bend. “Nova, when did you give Alexa my… phone number?”
My words falter when I see my executive assistant curled up in the couch. Her hands are pressed together and flattened under her cheek. Her eyes are closed and she’s breathing deeply.
I move backward as quietly as I can. Hurrying to the closet, I pull out an extra blanket and return to the living room.
Nova adjusts her head as if she can sense me coming. Half of her curls are crushed against the sofa while the other half expands like a cloud. Her nostrils flare lightly with each breath.
My heartbeat slows down. Just watching her seems to untangle the knots that formed while on the call with Alexa.
I drape the blanket over her. It can get chilly out here at night and I don’t want her to tremble in her sleep. Nova snuggles into the blanket as if seeking out more of its warmth.
I crouch in front of her, my eyes tracing her dark forehead, the slope of her straight nose, and the shape of her luscious, brown mouth.
It’s strange. When Nova’s awake, she looks like an impenetrable wall of efficiency. Always on the go. Always tackling one problem or another.
In sleep, her shoulders don’t seem as strong. She looks smaller and more fragile, like a butterfly with delicate wings rather than a hawk with a sharp beak and talons.
“You must have been exhausted,” I whisper. Glancing up, I notice that the lasagna is untouched. She didn’t even eat before she fell asleep.
A surge of protectiveness washes over me. But it’s different than what I usually feel. This time, the surge is like an invisible fist that grips my heart until it’s almost painful.
“I want to make your life easier, but I don’t know how,” I admit.
Nova clutches the blanket and burrows deeper into it. She sighs so heavily that her eyelashes tremble.
Should I take her to my bed?
A picture fills my mind immediately, as if it had been waiting for a chance to debut. I see myself draping Nova over my bed. I see my fingers dragging over her collarbone, down to her belly button, moving lower, lower still.
Have mercy.
Stabbing that idea in the gut, I back away from the sofa.
I need to go to sleep before I do something stupid.
Like wake Nova with a kiss.
Like wrap my arms around her and move her to my bed.
Like drag that sensible skirt to her waist so I can see what’s underneath.
She’s not interested in me like that, and revealing how she makes me feel would be the biggest mistake of my life.
It’s one thing to lose her as an executive assistant.
But if I mess up and lose her altogether—
I wouldn’t be able to survive that.
* * *
The next morning,I wake up earlier than the sun. My bedroom is dark and my body is aching from the dream I had.
A wispy image from the dream carries on the wind.
