Page 53 of Three Strikes and You're Mine

“I mean, it’s small potatoes compared to other people’s problems. I won’t pretend otherwise.”

“Hey,” Chloe says, trying to get me to look at her.

It takes me a second, but I manage to work up the courage.

Her brows are knit together in frustration, her eyes earnest and searing. She’s dead serious. “What you just told me would turn anyone’s world upside down. You lost your friend and Harper’s mom in one fell swoop. You’re worried about your parents. You have so few people you can turn to, and I think you’re doing a really damn good job of raising Harper on your own.”

I don’t have the capacity to do anything beyond a small nod.

She motions for me to pass her back the beer. She takes a sip then hands it back to me. We share it like that, back and forth, until it’s gone.

Eventually she speaks up. “Can I ask why you shared all that with me? Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate knowing more about your situation, especially with Harper. I just can’t help but feel like there’s more to it. Like you’ve left off the second half of the story.”

I swallow hard and narrow my eyes out on the pond in the distance. At night, from here, I like to watch the moon’s reflection on the water.

The truth tumbles out of me while I’m looking away. It’s easier to do it if I pretend she’s not beside me listening.

“I want you to know why, even though it’s completely obvious that I’ve got a big ol’ embarrassing crush on you, I haven’t acted on it.”

The silence becomes heavier than ever. I peer over, and Chloe’s frozen. Her innocent eyes are round with shock. Is she surprised to hear I’ve got a crush on her or surprised I had the guts to lay it all out there like that?

Then she makes a little noise, an intrigued huh.

“So the feeling’s mutual.” She shakes her head like she can’t believe it. “That makes me feel better, I guess.”

Oh fuck. Under normal circumstances, her confession would help. Now, though, it is absolutely not easier to hear she’s equally into me. I would have almost preferred it if she’d laughed in my face. Unrequited interest is one thing, but mutual longing? That’s destined to be trouble.

I wish I had another beer. I take the bottle from her hands and tip it back, ensuring I’ve cleared every last drop.

“So to recap…” Chloe starts. “You’ve got a hell of a lot on your plate, and you’re focused on Harper. Meanwhile, I just got out of a relationship with my last boss, and you’re my new boss, and I’m living here, so things could get really complicated really fast.” She shoots me a teasing glare. “Did I leave anything out?”

I pick at the label on the beer bottle. “Nope. That just about covers it.”

She leans over and lowers her voice just a little. “Can I ask, though…if I were any other woman, in any other situation—”

“We wouldn’t be sitting here merely talking right now.”

I know that for damn certain.

“Oh wow.”

I think I’ve managed to fluster her even more. “You’re blushing.”

“Uh, yeah.” She fans her face, trying to cool off her cheeks. “It’s just a lot. You’re really direct.”

“Cocky’s another way of putting it.”

“Sure, yeah, there’s some of that too. I can’t believe it. You think I’m hot hot?”

I grip the edge of the pool and shake my head. “Chloe, don’t make me spell it out. It’s hard enough as it is.”

“Okay, but what if you just told me one time and then—” She slices her hand through the air, cleaving off the end of her sentence. “Never again. I’ll pretend I have amnesia, I swear.”

I give her the same reproachful glare I give Harper when she’s pushing her luck.

Chloe doesn’t give in. Her gaze turns pleading, and that bottom lip juts out as she tacks on a “Please.”

Fine. I look up and meet her eyes, wanting to be sure she hears me the first time so I won’t have to repeat it.

“I am insanely, annoyingly, couldn’t-stop-if-I-tried attracted to you. I have thought about kissing you a hundred times in a hundred ways.”

I watch Chloe swallow hard. My words are more than she bargained for, I guess.

“Oh shit. I think I’m about to have a heart attack.”

She reaches over and takes my hand so she can press it to her chest as proof. Her heart is racing. Yeah, I’m aware of it, but I’m also acutely aware of the intimacy of the moment. Pressing my hand over her heart makes it feel like I’m branding her as mine somehow. Her smooth warm skin under my palm momentarily hijacks my thoughts.

Touching isn’t a good idea. Staving this off is only possible if we’re keeping our hands to ourselves, but now I can’t seem to pull away.

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