"No shit."
My stomach drops.
Oh God.
No wonder he looked ready to murder me when I started spouting off about compassion and loyalty and cutting people slack. No wonder that flash of anger lit up his eyes.
I stood before him—in his office—and lectured him about understanding and empathy while he'd already done everything I was demanding he do. And more.
He'd already taken care of Ollie. Quietly. Without announcement or fanfare or expecting gratitude.
And I assumed the worst of him. Assumed he was cold. Heartless.The kind of man who'd fire someone for having a sick mother without a second thought.
Heat floods my face. Pure, unadulterated shame.
"I need to apologize." I wish I could sink through the floor, I’m so embarrassed. "I need to apologize to him right now."
Ollie winces. “I don’t envy you.”
“Me neither.” I hunch my shoulders. I need to march back in there and tell him I’m sorry for my harsh words. I need to do it before I lose my courage.
The thought makes me almost faint with fear.
“Sorry, Harper.” Ollie squeezes my arm. “And thanks for going to bat for me.” He turns and walks off.
I draw in a few breaths: one, two, three. Rolling my shoulders and shaking out my arms. I need to own up when I make a mistake.
I turn toward the office and reach for the door, when it opens.
James fills the doorway. My momentum carries me forward, and I slam into his massive chest before I can stop myself.
Oh.
It feels like I hit a brick wall. A living, breathing, brick wall. Heat spools off his body and slams into me. I gasp and sway on my feet, knocked off-kilter by the collision.
I instinctively push my hands into his chest to brace myself. He grips my upper arms to steady me.
The seconds stretch.
My nose is buried in his chest. Through the starch of his chef jacket, I get a whiff of that sea salt, leather, and notes of cedar, the scent of his skin. Through the sensitive skin of my palm, I feel his heart thunder in his chest.
Feel his breath hitch.
Heat floods my face. My stomach does something acrobatic and deeply unhelpful.
Get a grip.
I cannot stand here salivating over my boss like he's the world's most indecent dessert. Not when I just lectured him about compassion for something he'd already handled with more grace than I'll ever possess.
Not when I owe him an apology and don't know how to start. Being this close to him feels dangerously good. For a second, I forget to move.
James goes very still. Then he inhales. Slow. Controlled. Like he’s steadying himself.
Or maybe, I'm imagining that.
Except when I glance up, his nostrils flare slightly. His jaw tightens. Something unreadable flickers across his face before it vanishes behind that usual mask of control.
My pulse skips.
