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“Your assistant?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said. “My personal assistant.”
“How big is your office?”
He studied her for a moment. “Like, square footage? Or personnel?”
She grinned at him, and he had no idea why. “Let’s go with both.”
“The office is half of a building. It’s got four or five offices in it. A couple of bathrooms. The front reception area. You’d work out there. Greet people when they come. Come get me and bring them back. Offer drinks.” He cut off. “This sounds like a terrible job. I’m sorry, Lauren. You’re not a waitress.”
“I wouldn’t have to waitress,” she said slowly.
He shook his head. “No, I don’t want you to do it. It’s way below your skill set.”
“I’m not sure there’s something with my skill set here.” Her eyes widened, and she clapped one hand over her mouth. “Oh, biscuits and gravy. I sounded so arrogant right there. I’m sorry.” She shook her head, her already somewhat olive skin turning a glorious shade of red. “I’m not all that. Really. I mean.” She exhaled. “I lost my job. The whole company shut down in a few hours, and I had no idea anything was wrong. Nothing.”
She hadn’t said much about what had happened at her job, just that she didn’t have one anymore. Blake watched her for a moment, and the carefully composed, classy, and educated Lauren reached up and wiped the corner of her eye.
He loved seeing her be real with him. He loved the softness she suddenly possessed. He wiped his hands and moved closer to her. He took her hand in his and said, “Hey, things happen. So many things that are out of our control.”
She looked up at him, and he nodded at her, his smile slow and stretching just right across his face. “You wanna go lay with me in the hammock?”
She nodded, wiped the one eye again, and sniffed. “Yeah. I’m exhausted.”
Blake led her outside, making sure the French doors he moved through weren’t locked—they didn’t need a repeat of the alarm that had been blaring when he’d arrived—and settled in the hammock first. She then deftly curled into his side, resting her arm across his torso as he put his around her shoulders and down her forearm.
She smelled like feminine sweat, soft cotton, and sunshine. She smelled like a new beginning for him, something that made his blood buzz and the possibilities for his future open all the way up.
“I like you,” he whispered. “I think working together might ruin things between us, as new as they are.”
“I don’t want to work for you,” she said back, her voice as equally as quiet. “But I am considering coming to your office to kiss you.”
He smiled up into the sky and said nothing. At least he wasn’t the only one thinking about kissing. His eyes drifted closed, and they drifted together in the hammock, and it was really, really peaceful. Quiet. Perfect.
He did need an assistant, but it wouldn’t be Lauren. No, she was going to be his girlfriend—just as soon as he could figure out how to kiss her without giving away how hard he’d already fallen for her.
* * *
“Tommy,”he called as he entered his house sometime later. “I’m here. Let’s go.” He hadn’t gone back to the office, and he’d ended up doing a conference call with some clients out of Raleigh from the patio table while Lauren scrolled on her phone nearby.
He’d stayed as long as he dared with Tommy here alone, and he found his boy lounging on the couch, his shoes having been clearly kicked off. They’d landed at odd angles several feet away, and Tommy clearly didn’t care. He also wouldn’t be able to find them later.
He’d just turned thirteen at the end of last year, and Blake swore his brain had fallen out of his head. He’d been klutzy for a couple of years now, as his limbs and feet had grown so fast. Too fast for him to know how to use them. He was getting better now, but he still lumbered sometimes, and he dragged his feet all the time, and Blake counted himself blessed that they hadn’t been to the ER yet this year.
“We’re goin’ to your mother’s,” he said, surveying the damage in the living room. An empty ice cream pint container, with melted pale green liquid in it. A bowl with a couple of swallows of milk Blake assumed would be room temperature. Two empty bottles of Diet Mountain Dew tossed casually onto the nearby cushions.
“Oh!” Tommy yelled and jumped to his feet, the video game controller still in his hand. “Did you see that?”
Blake had not seen it, but he said, “Yeah, that was a good shot.” He smiled at his son. “You’re going to Mama’s for the rest of the week, remember?”
“Yeah, I’m ready,” he said. He wasn’t, and Blake repressed a sigh as he bent to pick up the dishes and trash. Tommy finished his game while Blake debated telling him about Lauren. He normally didn’t alert Tommy to his dating adventures—and they had been adventures lately—until the relationship was pretty serious. He didn’t need to be introducing Tommy to every woman he went out with, as he wanted to protect his son.
He also felt a great duty to show his son how to date a woman properly. How to treat her with respect and kindness, as a human being who should be treasured and loved. He never spoke ill of Jacinda in front of Tommy, and they co-parented the best that they could.
“We’re gonna be in the island traffic now,” he told Tommy. They’d have to wait forever for a ferry to Carter’s Cove, and then Blake would likely stay there for a while until the traffic coming back to the mainland thinned too. He could grab a drink at the Heartwood Inn and sit on their outdoor patio or beach for a while.
He knew Gage Sanders and his wife—one of the Heartwood sisters—and they’d let him do whatever he wanted even though he didn’t have a room at the inn.
