Page 70 of The One Who Saw Her: Boone

"Is it working?" he asked, and she could tell he was fighting amusement.

"I feel taller."

A small smirk tugged at his mouth. "That's the heel talking."

"I think it's the owner."

Something flickered behind his eyes. "What does that mean?"

"You don't take crap from anyone. You'd never let someone walk all over you or steal credit for your work." She kept pacing. "I'm a professional people-pleaser. I once broke up with a guy I loved because I knew my best friend loved him."

He looked at her like she couldn't possibly be serious.

"I know. I did it because it made them happy." She shrugged like it was nothing, though her voice wavered slightly. "I got it from my mom. I watched her shift into someone else entirely to please my dad. His hobbies became hers. His favorite food became hers. He liked golf, she subscribed to the Golf Channel. Then when they divorced, she didn't even know how she liked her eggs." She paused. "I was the same thing with Lewis. That's why I came here. To figure out who I am without someone else's hands on the steering wheel. I almost walked away from my job and a life I love because Lewis made a singular decision without consulting me."

"Lewis sounds like a prick." The words came out flat and certain, with an almost protective edge that she’d never heard before with regards to her.

She didn't usually like possessive men, but Boone wore it differently. Like it wasn't about ownership, it was about offense on her behalf.

"I understand what it feels like to have someone make decisions that affect your life without taking your feelings into account,” he said. “Five months after my parents died my ex relocated to Atlanta. Said I wasn't moving on fast enough."

"That's awful. Who does that to someone they claim to love? She sounds selfish."

The second selfish left her mouth, Vivi felt it ricochet straight back into her own chest.

She'd spent her entire adult life folding herself into origami shapes to avoid ever being accused of that word. Let bosses walk over her, friends dictate her choices, boyfriends steer her life like she was a passenger in her own damn car.

Selfish. She'd never even tried the word on for size.

But looking at Boone, a steady, quietly hurting man who'd been abandoned right when he needed someone most, something sharp and protective rose up in her. Something that wanted to bare teeth on his behalf. It was startling her because that kind of reaction wasn't her.

Or maybe it was and she'd just never let herself feel it before.

The worst part? The part she absolutely would not examine right now, while standing in his giant boots with his stupidly sweet cow socks staring up at her?

Defending him felt like the kind of good that came with consequences.

"Seems the boots are working," he said, a quiet smirk returning. "You want to do something bold?"

"Bold?" the word was more like a squeak.

"Yeah." His eyes were all challenge. "Something dangerously bold."

"Like what?"

"Call your boss back and tell him where he can shove it.”

Standing tall in his boots, Vivi took one decisive step toward him, the soles clomping against the floor with purpose. "I'd rather do this."

He looked at her the way he had in the doorway that first morning—half shock, half you wouldn't dare.

Then she dared and grabbed the front of his shirt, hauled herself up on her toes, and kissed him—quick, hot and reckless—with a confidence she absolutely had not possessed ten minutes ago.

Boone went still for one stunned heartbeat. Then a rough sound escaped him and his hands locked around her hips and pulled her in—unhurried like a man who'd been waiting for exactly this all day.

When she finally pulled back, she whispered, "Better than yelling at my boss."

"Next time, warn a man."