Page 48 of I Saw You First

“I need to pay,” she says.

“I took care of it,” I say, my voice a rumble. I gesture toward the door. “You can pay me back.”

“Wil!” she cries. “Separate checks, remember?”

“You can pay me back,” I repeat, “or get it next time.”

“Next time?” she murmurs.

“Next time.”

I push open the heavy front door and hold it open as she steps out. I follow her into the cold, dark autumn night. At some point, a shower passed through. The cool air smells metallic and dirty, and the puddles shimmer with rainbows of oil.

“You okay to drive?” I ask once we’re at our vehicles, both parked under a streetlamp in the back row of the Hometown parking lot.

“Totally fine,” she says.

“Are you sure?”

She places a hand on my arm, warm and electric even through my coat. Then she steps closer. I clench my jaw.

“I promise, I’m fine,” she murmurs.

I look at her for a long moment. “Good,” I say quietly. “Thanks again for the—the hard work you put in for the eval.”

I should leave. I should get in my car and drive away.

But I don’t move. In fact, I must have taken a step, too, because now we’re only a whisper apart. Time freezes. My eyes travel across Abbey’s beautiful face, from the rich brown wisps that have come loose from her ponytail and frame her flushed cheeks to her thick, full, rosy lips. God, those lips. I wonder what it would be like to kiss her, to taste her, to catch her bottom lip in a gentle nip. She takes another step closer, close enough that I can feel heat radiating off her.

“What are you doing?” I ask, and it comes out as a deep growl, and before I give it a second thought, I place one hand on her hip.

Mine, I think.

What am I doing?

She slides her arms around my neck and stretches toward me, leaning up on her tiptoes, and then I squeeze her hip, a light press, and⁠—

The clatter of carts slamming together startles us, and she stumbles backward, out of my arms. I glance up. Eric’s retrieving carts from the corrals in the parking lot.

“Christ,” I mutter and take two steps backward, away from Abbey, toward my car. “Shit.”

“Wil, I—” she stammers but I hold up a hand.

I need to be smart about this. She’s my employee. I need to remember what’s at stake. The AGM rotation and getting my own store. Proving to my father that I can be successful at this. That I can make a positive difference for the company.

I can’t afford an… entanglement… like this. Even though it’s my own damn fault for inviting her out for a drink tonight.

“Good night,” I say quietly. “Drive carefully.” I get into my car and wait for her to do the same, to back out of her parking spot and drive away.

I think about that almost-kiss the whole drive home, the heat of her, the feel of her hip under my fingers.

Tonight, I’ll let myself think about Abbey Rhodes and what might have been. Tomorrow, I’ll remember who I am to her, and how what might have been can never be.

FOURTEEN

“STUPID GIRL” BY GARBAGE, 1995

ABBEY