Page 47 of Not Safe for Work

I offer him a glare and continue walking.

“It’s fine,” I say over my shoulder. “Just forget it.”

But Rafe doesn’t listen. He grabs my hand and tugs me back. Something warm and electric shoots up my arm, stealing my breath.

“Please tell me,” he says.

“You wouldn’t understand.”

His shoulders drop. “I’d like to try.”

“Why?”

He shrugs and seems to weigh his words before he replies. “Because.”

“I don’t want to talk about it, okay? I just need some space.”

“But the training program,” he says.

I pinch the bridge of my nose and lean against the wall. “I don’t care, Rafe. I’m not getting it, anyway. I’m not sure why I keep deluding myself into thinking it might happen.”

He watches me, running a hand through his hair as he lets out a long, slow breath. I can tell he has no idea how to respond.

“Just go back and finish the exercise,” I say. “One of us should win. It might as well be you.”

With that, I push off the wall and walk away.

Chapter Thirteen

I wander through the hotel in search of self-medication with my vices of choice: food and wine. I stumble upon a semi-deserted bar overlooking the lobby with windows running along one side.

Finding a table near the edge, I sit and watch a wedding party posing around the central fountain for photos. They’re full of smiles, the bride’s the biggest. Something twists in my chest as she kisses her groom with googly hearts sparkling in her eyes.

“Can I get you a drink?” a server asks, appearing at my side.

“Several.” His smile stretches with a knowing look. “I’ll have a glass of wine.” I point to something on the menu, and he walks away.

Rain lashes the windows, where I can see the blowing trees and the dark, churning ocean. My mouth turns dry as a massive crack of lightning flashes across the horizon.

“Is this seat taken?”

I turn to find Rafe with his hands braced on the back of the chair beside mine.

“Shouldn’t you be overachieving somewhere?”

Rafe ignores my question and sits down as the server returns with my wine. He orders something as I pick up my glass and drain half of it in one gulp.

“You may as well bring another one now,” I tell the server, and he nods.

“You hungry?” Rafe asks, picking up the narrow laminated cardboard menu from the table. I give him a wry look. “Right. Silly question. What do you want?”

I eye the storm and the clouds tumbling over one another. “Whatever. Something decadent.”

I don’t hear anything as he places an order with the server, who’s returned with his beer and my second glass. A ball of anxiety is forming in my stomach as I continue to watch outside.

“You okay?” Rafe asks, concern in his gaze. “I’m sorry about what that idiot said.”

My gaze snaps to him. “How do you know what he said?”