Page 43 of The One Timer

“Sure. Call it whatever you want. I’m not saying anything serious, but definitely something worthwhile, something we’d both enjoy.”

I nod because I see where he’s going with this, and I can’t fault him for it. But his desire for an easy, no-strings fling doesn’t change anything. I don’t have an easy life, and a fling with him would be anything but easy since I work for his grandma.

Most importantly, I can’t derail my progress in getting a nursing degree for fun and games. I’ve never been a fun and games kind of girl. I’ve had a few boyfriends, but I ended the relationships before they got too serious because they weren’t right, and they were a distraction not worth interfering with my goal.

“I wouldn’t feel comfortable hiding a fling from your grandmother, and I definitely wouldn’t feel comfortable with her knowing we were sleeping together. I’ve never had a one-night stand before or a fling,” I confess. Saying the words out loud makes me feel like I’m straight from a nunnery. “I’ve had a few relationships,” I add hastily.

He nods. “I get it. You’re not the kind of girl who plays games or is comfortable with casual affairs. The night we had notwithstanding, I’m not surprised. I respect that. And I respect you.”

“Look, I don’t mean I want to live like a nun.” I blow out a breath because I’m not sure how to explain it without insulting him. “Your grandmother…”

“You don’t need to worry about Gran. She knows I’m not a monk, and she wouldn’t interfere in your personal business as an employee. Besides, I don’t honestly think she’d mind⁠—”

“I’d mind. Fooling around with my employer’s grandson just isn’t right. And I’m not looking for anything serious.”

“You knew I was your employer’s grandson that night, and you were fine with fooling around,” he says. “Sorry, I don’t mean to sound like a jackass, but there’s no other way to tell you that you’re contradicting yourself.” He stares at me, and I lift my chin, staring back.

After a few beats of silence, while we sit in the dark car lit by the bald bulb of a street light, I finally answer him. “Fair point, but that night we had was an aberration for me, my one-timer, because there was a rare alignment of the stars. My semester ended, it was my birthday, and the Fosters didn’t want your grandmother’s hockey tickets. I’m on a mission, and I need to stay on track.”

“I totally get it. You need to do what’s right for you.” He doesn’t look happy. In fact, a rare frown mars his face. Only the frown doesn’t take away from his charm or make him any less dreamy. He’s a regular Prince Charming through and through, right down to his privileged upbringing with his regal family. I only wish he were an insufferable snob as a result, instead of the fun, down-to-earth good guy he is, a sincere charmer if there is such a thing.

“I’m sorry, Chase.” The words of rejection cut through me, so I add, “Another time or place, maybe.” More like another universe, one where I’m your next-door neighbor in Beacon Hill instead of from the furthest possible place from that, metaphorically speaking.

He doesn’t say anything and stares at me with a pensive expression.

Maybe it’s guilt that has me filling the silence with more explanations. “The issue about your grandmother aside, I’m too committed to school to play games with you, even as tempting as it is. Because you’re right. We did have an amazing connection that night.” I still feel it, but there’s no point in telling him that. Serious apprehension that I could be doing the wrong thing twists my gut.

He nods. “I understand.” He pauses, and a slight curve shapes his mouth. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

My heart skips a beat. “What…do you mean?”

“I’m staying with Gran for a while over the holidays. I’ll commute up to Portsmouth for practice and games.”

We stare. A million things go through my head while my insides flutter and swoon. In the end, I’m thinking he’ll be so hard to resist because we both know that he’s not giving up, that he’s going to try to charm the pants off me—literally. And that scares me.

But at the same time, I can’t deny that the prospect of seeing him every day, the possibility of him succeeding in winning me over, excites the hell out of me.

“I want to kiss you, Em.” He’s asking permission. And despite all my misgivings and the truth of every objection I admitted to him a moment ago, I find myself nodding and leaning in. What’s the harm in a kiss? My bad angel—who looks a lot like Merry—pushes me, urging me to indulge in some pleasure. Daring me.

“What’s the harm in a kiss?” I murmur as his lips gravitate close to mine.

“I promise my kiss won’t hurt. It’ll only make you feel good, Em.”

I love how he calls me Em. Only my mom ever called me Em, and each time he calls me that, I feel a frisson of pleasure, like a pleasant memory lighting up.

His mouth touches mine, softly at first, like a test as if to be cautious of igniting too many sparks. But the immediate flare set off between us goes well beyond mere sparks, and my arms go around his neck. He presses me close, opening his mouth like the door to heaven.

His hands caress my face, then slide down over my body, holding me, wandering everywhere like he needs to memorize me. My heart pounds, and my chest rises and falls as my breathing gets out of control, as my body spins out of control with wanting this man.

Headlights flash behind us, and a horn beeps. We both let go and turn.

“Oh my God.”

“What’s the matter? Who is it?”

“It’s my Aunt Bea.”

He chuckles. “It’s not like you’re a teen caught red-handed, Em.”