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I cough and push my too-long hair back from my face. “Not like that, man.”
“Bullshit. Have you seen you? It’s exactly like that.” He holds up a hand. “Not the bush part. Or if it is, I don’t wanna know.”
He goes back to texting, ignoring the glare I’m giving him.
I turn it up a notch, adding a low growl, but he just shakes his head.
“Settle, Cro-Magnon. You’re only proving my point.”
I’m getting pissed. “What point is that?”
“You’re hot for nanny.”
Grady sits there, cool as a cucumber, while a restless energy starts to build within me, making my skin feel too tight. My muscles twitchy. “It’s not—”
“It is.” And then, after an unhurried glance, he adds, “You used to be the most even guy on the team. Now look at you. Your fists are clenched so hard the veins on your arms look like they’re about to burst.”
I immediately shake out the fists in question, grunting an apology he again waves off.
“Axe, man, you talk to her for hours almost every day. And don’t try to feed me that line about wanting Otto to hear your voice because down in Tampa, I heard her put him to bed, and instead of getting off the phone to come hang out with the guys, you asked what she wanted to watch.”
“We’re friends.”
“I know. Friends who want tobang.” He shrugs. “She’s beautiful. Funny. And gives you relentless shit. Plus, she digs your kid. Totally bangable.”
“She’s off-limits. She works for me, and Otto needs her. No way am I going to risk his relationship with the person giving him the most stability in his life because I find her attractive. There’s a line, and we’re not crossing it.”
Correction. We’re not crossing itagain.
No matter how bad I might want to.
* * *
Nora
Friends.
That’s what we are. And having that affirmation playing on repeat in my head should be enough to keep me out of crushy trouble. But it’s not.
The problem is, wearefriends. Maybe too good of friends.
We get along too well. Laugh too easily together. Have too many private jokes and shared secrets. We get too excited about the same things— like this little face Otto has been making for the last week and we’ve both been desperately trying to catch with our phones. When we finally got it this morning, we were so excited I somehow ended up in his arms, the hold all too reminiscent of our first kiss.
No, Nora. Ouronlykiss.
No more kissing.
No more thinking about kissing.
No more circling back and back again to the way Axel’s blue eyes drifted to my mouth, his fingers tightening at my waist. How I felt it deep in my center.
I swallow.
Yeah, that last bit is what finally broke me down and had me calling Caroline to confess.
As expected, she ranted and hissed. Asked me if I’d bumped my head. If I had amnesia. If sharing a bed with two of my younger siblings and working around the clock from the time I arrived on Christmas Eve day until the time I left three days later wasn’t reminder enough of why I needed to focus on building my own life.
It was.
