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“Think you can help?”
“Of course, that’s why I’m here,” she says with a smile.
Only I know that this isn’t Avery’s true smile. It’s the one I see on Sundays when she’s speaking to a number of parishioners. Not the one I’ve come to pray to witness.
The following week, Avery and I found ourselves in a familiar place. We were finally beginning to get into a steady rhythm. Avery showed up three days last week and stayed after church on Sunday. An unspoken agreement took place between us after her confession.
Now on this Tuesday afternoon, I find myself once again seated across from Avery, working on the usual list from Patricia. The list has grown longer in the short time that Avery has been helping me. I didn’t initially really need her help with this gala. However, after some of the decisions she landed on, I was grateful I’d used this as a way to be around her. Even if I can’t take Avery like I want to.
Avery really has a great eye for picking out everything we need, and it is all coming together. The team has even started going right to her when she’s in my office to approve plans and give additional options.
They never thought to give me any options when this first started; I was basically just given a singular choice and a place to sign. Clearly, I didn’t know what I was doing with event planning.
Being in Avery’s presence is as hard as I imagined it would be.
Watching Avery across my desk as she stares at the food menu we’re trying to finalize now, I notice she pulls her eyebrows together and bites down gently on one end of the pen she’s holding when she gets deep in thought.
Avery glances up from the menu options and catches me in the act. She blushes before returning her gaze to the menu once more.
I smirk from being caught. I can’t help it, really. I try not to steal glances at her, but when an angel sits before you, you take notice.
Avery starts bobbing her head as if she’s finally reached her decision.
“What are you thinking?” I ask.
“I think I’ve finally got it,” she says while continuing to bob her head in excitement.
She removes the pen from her mouth, and how I wish I were that pen. It’s fucking pathetic, I am well aware.
“This should be it,” she continues as she circles dozens of options on the three pages.
Finally done with her decisions, she places the paperwork on my desk and spins it around to face me before getting up to stand beside me.
Leaning over next to me, she bends down to show me her menu planning. Like I fucking care when I am inches away from the set of tits I wish I could suffocate in.
“Okay, so for the appetizers, the budget should allow us to have the mushrooms, the bruschetta, the escargot, a caviar bar, the oyster station, and a giant charcuterie table—what do you think so far?”
The end of her pen is back in her mouth as she stares at the paperwork, waiting for my answer. Her tits squeeze together as she leans forward slightly.
Avery looks down, and suddenly, awareness strikes. The pen comes out of her mouth slowly before she places her other hand down on my desk.
Our proximity is far too close and way too comfortable. She’s inches from my face at this angle. I can’t help but take a glance down at her tits again as they press inward together. Avery’s dresses give me the perfect opening to test my commitment to the Lord. I fail every time.
She watches on. When I look back up at her beautiful blue eyes, I see yearning replace the determination that was just there.
“Lachlan?”
Her voice comes out as a hint of a whisper.
I swallow thickly, causing Avery to look down at my neck. Clearing my throat, I break us both from this intoxicating trance.
Avery straightens and takes a few steps back.
“They’re great, Avery, thank you. Once again, no changes. I’m sure the rest of the menu is the same,” I say as I gather the papers to give them back.
She takes them with a smile and nods before returning to the other side of the desk.
My office desk has been acting as a literal and figurative barrier for the past week between us. One that we both rarely cross and never linger on the other’s side.
