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“Sure.” She sounds unsure, but not worried.
“Okay, I’ll text you an address. Meet at three?” I ask, noting that waiting until three gives me exactly two hours to prepare.
“That sounds good. See you then.” With that, we say our goodbyes and my heart leaps. I have plans to make.
Two hours later, I watch her walk into the park where I’d asked her to meet me. Her gaze meets mine and a smile brightens her face as she walks my direction. She reaches my side. I take her hand and lead her toward the little ice cream cart that I'd spied earlier. I know this particular vendor often hangs out near the park.
“Ice cream?” I ask.
“I love pistachio,” she says, and I signal for two cones as the vendor serves us up. The weather is warm and the sun peeks from behind intermittent clouds as we take our cones and go for a walk amongst the beautiful trees and plants.
“You like pistachio, too?” she asks.
“I’ve never had it and wanted to try,” I say honestly. The thought of a nut-flavored ice cream always steered me away but as I try the light green treat, I’m pleasantly surprised.
“And what do you think?” she asks, angling her body toward me as we walk.
“I think I have a new favorite ice cream flavor,” I respond.
She laughs. “Okay, now honestly.”
“Honestly,” I say, smiling at her. “This is my new favorite.”
A smile tugs the corners of her lips and she’s quiet for a moment. We continue walking, making our way toward a giant weeping willow tree. The branches hang all the way to the ground and offer peek-a-boo privacy as I lead her into the haven.
Sunlight trickles through, splashing the ground and the wind stirs the branches as we sit.
“We never did talk about the other night,” she says.
She's right. We didn't, mostly because I had no idea what to say. The last thing I wanted to do was ruin the moment between us or make her realize she regretted our time spent together. I lift both shoulders. “I wasn't sure I could handle this soul crushing sensation of you telling me you made a mistake and wanted to go back to being coworkers again.”
She gives me a sideways glance. “Funny, I was thinking the same thing.”
Her gaze lowers to my lips. And slowly, I lean in, kissing her sweet, slightly sticky lips. The kiss is slow and gentle, like neither of us are in a hurry and all we want to do is enjoy one another.
“Well, well, well.”
She and I both glance up at Sterling's voice. He's standing with his arms crossed, watching us both. “I guess I figured out why you want nothing to do with me anymore, Emma. Now you can just sleep your way to the top rather than work for it.”
Her body jerks as if he struck her and I stand up.
“Don't bother saying anything Playboy. I'm going to make sure everyone in your office knows what you're up to,” Sterling says with a dismissive grunt.
The thought of my father having to put up with this jackass while he's potentially dying in a hospital bed leaves me shaking with cold rage. “Don’t you dare approach my father,” I say.
Sterling crosses his arms with a laugh. “Why? Afraid dear old dad will fire you both?” He sounds so sure of himself, but he couldn't be more wrong.
Then he glances at Emma. “Did you get my messages?”
Something about the way he says the words makes my blood run cold. I glance back at her, watching her nod her head. Her slender throat flexes as she swallows hard.
“And?” he pushes.
“I don’t want to be with you, Sterling. And I'd like you to stop leaving notes and stalking me.”
As she says the words, his expression jerks into one of surprise and confusion. “I’m not stalking you; I'm trying to talk some sense into you before you do something you’ll regret.”
Which, of course, is exactly what a stalker would say.
