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And yet, I know in my gut that I’m falling in love with Gwen.
Falling. Veering, swerving, speeding straight into that zone.
I also know it’s happening fast.
How does she feel about it? I’ll ask her that this evening—when we’re not at work. Even if it scares me, I’ll make myself do it.
And until then, I’ll enjoy the fact that this Wednesday will not be like every other Wednesday for the past six years in this exact same office building.
It is going to be more memorable.
Sweeter.
Because of Gwen.
Chapter 15
Gwen
“How was work today, honey?” my mother asks as she reaches into the back of my little Honda.
Her arms wrap around one of the big planters I’ve been carting around for a few days now, ever since the sale at the garden center where she works.
She hands it to me.
I crouch to set it down on the lawn, then brush stray flecks of soil off my hands. “Er… fine. Thanks for coming by to help me unload these. You didn’t have to.”
“Oh, I know I didn’t have to. You are so strong, sweetie. I just want to see how they look by the front door. You know how I get excited about these things.” She grabs another planter out of the back seat and once again passes it to me. “You sure work was okay?”
“Yep! Fine.” I carry a planter past her and set it down near the first one.
I can’t tell my mom that my work day started with a stolen kiss in the break room and then got more naughty from there.
I’m pretty sure Brock and I shouldn’t have closed the door to his office to kiss again at our mid-morning meeting.
The flirty texts we sent back and forth all day were not professional.
The same goes for our phone calls, which were often not at all necessary.
Which was fun… I will admit. To myself. Not to my mom.
“Honey?” My mom quirks her eyebrow and hands me a third planter.
“Hm?”
“You seem distracted. And you’re quiet in that way you get when you’re overwhelmed. Anything I can do?”
I place the heavy ceramic pot down on the patchy grass near the others. “No, no, thanks. I’m fine. Work’s fine…”
She’s not buying it. “Clay says you took on some extra responsibilities. He says your boss is very high maintenance. The demanding type, calling you at all hours, asking too much of you.”
“Clay said that?”
She nods. “Your brother is very perceptive, honey, you know that. He seems to think you’re struggling at work, and I promised him I’d try to get a feel for what’s going on.”
We unload a few more pots until the back of my car is empty.
My mom brushes her hands against her hips, wiping flecks of potting soil away. “I am so glad you picked these up, by the way. Wasn’t that a great sale? Fifty percent off… we won’t see deals like that again until after Christmas. I was thinking I’ll fill them and put them around the front door, all along there.”
