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I can’t blame her for turning green.
I haven’t been myself all day.
With her, I’m a stranger.
Sure, I’ll admit there’s a part of me that feels responsible for this fuckery, for the way I’ve jerked around her life and career. It’s no wonder a faint subconscious part of me wants to make up for that in some way by making sure she enjoys what’s left of this trip.
Still, that same part sure as hell didn’t tell me to kiss her like a man heading off to war.
“Oh,” she whispers. “Oh, crap nuggets.”
“It’s okay. We just...” My tongue knots up. For once, I’m lost for words, and still trapping her between my body and the wall.
Fuck. Didn’t she mention her feet were hurting?
“Let me down,” she whispers.
We’re still in sync because she pushes at my shoulders.
“But your feet—”
“It’s fine. I can walk a little farther. They’re just a bit sore and don’t hurt that much.” She turns her face away and won’t meet my eyes. “We’ll have a car soon, right?”
It hits me then.
Callie’s not stuttering.
That stutter of hers comes out when she’s anxious and flustered. She’s tried so hard to master it, and she’s got it in total check right now.
Because she’s walled herself off, I realize.
She’s bracing for the catastrophic face collision we’ll have to talk about sooner or later.
Damn.
I guess I’m not the only one with a suit of armor.
Mine isn’t even saving me from this sudden pang in my chest.
I need to harden up, stat.
With a deep breath, I set her down, making sure she has her feet under her before I pull back and put some sorely needed space between us. I fumble in my pocket for my phone.
“Let me take care of the ride.”
The main sidewalk is just a few steps away. I lead the way, tapping at my phone, keeping one eye on her for safety’s sake but giving her—both of us, really—room to reorient.
Her face is pointedly blank, her eyes unfocused as she smooths her clothes. She sweeps her hair away, twisting a few long locks back into a no-nonsense tail.
When she joins me on the sidewalk to wait for our car a minute later, her stance is casual. She leans to one side, but there’s a conspicuous distance between us.
When the car pulls up, I hold the door open for her to slide in first.
Gone is the lighthearted wonder doing the same thing earlier tonight, sharing a trolley or a duck boat.
Now, it’s like we’re wary fighters in our corners, each of us leaning against the back seat doors on our sides.
How much does she hate me now?
How much more does she loathe my guts?
My eyes flick over.
She’s so calm, leaning on the window and resting her chin on her palm. Callie looks outside with the city lights throwing soft spangles over her face.
I don’t know what to say, what the fuck I can.
Hi, sorry for kissing you so hard you’ll taste me for the next month.
See? It’s as stupid as it sounds.
I’ve stumbled into uncharted territory.
No, it’s hardly the first time an employee attraction reared its head. I’m well acquainted with shutting crushes down cold. Before, I always moved forward, remaining professional and detached.
Everything I didn’t do here.
This is also the first time I care about not hurting the other person, instead of just wanting to reinforce boundaries in the harshest way.
“You can stop looking at me like that,” she mutters without looking back at me. A strange smile pulls at her lips. “It’s okay, Roland.”
“Is it?”
“It’s been a weird day. We let our guard down. A little adrenaline rush, too much impulse... Yeah, it’s a cocktail for bad decisions.” That smile of hers bothers me, but I can’t pin down why. “We don’t have to make it worse by turning it into something it’s not. It’s okay to just say whoops and forget it. I know it didn’t mean anything.”
So this is what a surprise gunshot to the chest feels like.
It’s such an easy answer.
I should be thankful, latch on, and take the entirely sensible escape she’s offering. Too bad all it does is make me realize what I’ve been refusing to admit.
It does mean something.
It means too fucking much—and I can’t let it.
Nor do I want to make Callie uncomfortable. She’s made it clear how she wants to handle this. I should be glad that she gave me an easy out.
Even if I get so defensive with my own boundaries, I’m not about to breach hers again when she’s being straight with me.
“Smart advice,” I say coldly. “Yes, we’ll put it behind us like it never happened. I owe you an apology, though, Miss Landry.”
Her eyes pop when I slither back to formality like the rattlesnake I am.
“For what?”
“Forgetting my place. Forgetting yours. Crossing lines.” I try to look at her gently. “Usually when I’m the bastard breaking the rules, it stops at irritating competitors and anyone with a noodle of a work ethic.”
