“These last weeks always are the most transformative,” I agree. It’s coming along nicely, the exact vision Rowan and I had when he first brought me here to show me the location. Luxury, but more attainable than the large-scale resorts the company has throughout the world. The perfect way to spend the day at the Jersey shore in utter luxury.
“I checked the weather, and next weekend is now in the ten-day outlook—so far, so good. No rain in the forecast, knock onwood,” she says, grinning at me as she turns to the wall behind her and raps her knuckles against it. She turns back to me, that goofy look she gets when she gives in to one of her superstitions on her face. Something behind her catches my eye, distracting me, though. She takes the hesitation as confusion and smiles wider. “Oh, come on, I’m sure you’ve heard of knocking on wood, I—” she starts, but I’m barely listening, instead stepping to her and wrapping my hand around her wrist.
“June!” I pull her into my chest and out of the way of the falling umbrella that was leaning on the wall. It seems her knocking had the opposite effect of her lucky intentions, making it fall right where she was standing. The heavy umbrella lands on the floor with a loud clatter. My heart is pounding as I stare where it fell, then to her face, her own eyes wide. “It almost fell right on your head,” I explain unnecessarily. Her hands are resting on my chest, her own breath heavy as the arm I have around her waist slackens just a bit, the adrenaline easing my system now that she’s out of harm's way.
She looks at me, eyes still wide with shock. “Good thing you were here,” she whispers.
“Yeah. Good thing.” Her breath brushes my lips, and mine catches as I realize I’m still holding her and her hand is resting on my chest, our bodies pressed together. She’s wearing a thin sundress, and the warmth of her skin burns through the flimsy fabric, warming my palm where it rests on her hip. There’s a heat in her eyes that I know must be reflected in mine, especially when her eyes dip for just a moment to my lips, then back. She looks at me as if asking me to do it, to say fuck it and kiss her.
And I could.
I could kiss her.
It would be simple.
The last time was phenomenal, something I did because I wanted to, but sold it as if I was doing her a favor. Really, I washoping it would bring a moment of clarity, that it would sate my obsession with her. Just like with every other moment with June Taylor, I thought that a taste would be enough.
And just like every other time with her, I found that not even remotely the case.
Before I can make that reckless choice, her phone pings, bringing me back into reality. My body goes stiff with realization, and I step back, hesitating just long enough to make sure she’s okay before clearing my throat.
“Close call,” I say awkwardly. She stares at me for another moment before giving me a tight nod, then pulls out her phone to check the new message. In a moment, the disappointment I’m ignoring melts, her eyes go wide, and her head snaps to me with pure, unadulterated excitement written across her expressive face.
“Oh my god!” she shouts. After experiencing this a few times, I know not to panic, though my already heightened senses don’t make that easy.
“Yes?” I ask.
“I won!” I furrow my brows, confused, brain still muddled from having her so close. “You must be my lucky charm!” she shouts. “I won the tickets! Oh my god!” She starts jumping up and down, warmth flooding through me at the realization of what happened. “Graham, I won the tickets!”
‘That’s great, June,” I say, smiling as I watch that now familiar and addictive emotion move over her, making those late nights worth it a million times over.
“I can’t believe it! I won! Two VIP tickets!” She turns to me again, eyes wide and hopeful. “Youhaveto come!”
“I don’t?—”
“We had a deal.”
“It’s really not necessary.” Going would be incredibly irresponsible of me. So terribly stupid and irresponsible.
“I can’t go alone,” she insists.
“Bring Claire or Lainey or Sutton,” I suggest, but she shakes her head.
“No, I’m bringing you. Lainey and Claire will be working because it’s the Fourth of July weekend. Plus, we had a deal. Friends don’t go back on deals.” I open my mouth to protest. “And don’t you dare tell me we’re not friends, or I might cry.”
She stares at me, glaring in a way I think she wants to be fierce, but really is just adorable.
“I know we’re friends, June. Trust me.” It’s the truth, too. I’m painfully aware that June and I are friends, and that’s all I can allow. Daily, it seems, I have to remind myself I’m her boss, that it would be far too complicated, and she can definitely do much better than a crotchety asshole like me.
June Taylor deserves someone as bright and joy-filled as she is, and that will never be me.
“Oh. Okay. So, you’ll come with?” she asks, with a hesitant smile. I push my hand through my hair, unable to find a way out of this without disappointing her, before nodding.
“Yes, but only if you agree to let me pay for the hotel rooms.” While I was having my late-night of entering contests on her behalf, it was the condition I set for myself, both for her safety and my sanity.
“No,” she says with a shake of her head.
“Yes. The concert ends late, and traffic will be terrible on the way back. I’m not spending the entire day in the sun only to get into an accident with some drunk idiot who partied too hard for the weekend.” I start filtering through options for how I can pay for a hotel stay if she refuses. Thankfully, that isn’t necessary, because she sighs, then nods reluctantly.
