Page 198 of Fake it ’Til Fall

“It does.”

“And if I have actual authority.”

“You do.”

“And a budget I approve of.”

“Yes.”

“And if I tell you an idea is bad, you have to listen.”

He scoffs. “I always listen.”

“You do. It’s unnerving.” I look down at the laptop, then back at him. “Then yes. I want the job.”

He reaches for me slowly, like even now he is giving me time to change my mind. His hand settles at my jaw, thumb brushing once near my cheekbone.

“Because of me?” he asks.

“No.” My voice changes because the answer matters. “You are a factor. A very broad-shouldered, emotionally disruptive factor. But no. I want the job because I want the work. I want the kids. I want Open Ice. I want to be paid to care without disappearing inside it.”

His eyes close for half a second.

When they open, the look in them does something reckless to my entire body.

“Good,” he says.

“That’s it?”

“You said yes.”

“I did.”

“I’m trying not to make it weird.”

“By saying ‘good’ like a man receiving military orders?”

“It’s my process.”

“You’re terrible at this.”

“At hiring?”

“At everything.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I’m good at some things.”

I should not smile, but I do.

“Is that part of the official benefits package?”

His gaze drops to my mouth. “Separate negotiation.”

I shift closer on the couch. “I am an excellent negotiator.”