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“Yes.” Levi’s mouth twitches as he rounds the desk. “Who can say? Maybe there will be coffee.”
“…Coffee in the park.”
“It’s complex, I know.” Strong hands take my shoulders, steering me back toward the door. I let him, but I do not—I repeat, donot—go all gooey about his hands on me. Even if there are a million butterflies crashing around my stomach right now. “But you’ll get there, Georgina. I have faith in you.”
“Ass,” I say, without heat.
“There she is.” Levi’s deep voice comes so close to my ear. “My rudest employee. Be honest: do you secretly hate me, Georgina? Just a little?”
“Who doesn’t?” I grind out, but the words taste bad. They’re not true for me anymore, and I don’t even want to pretend. It feels all wrong.
Levi chuckles, still marching me to the doorway, and I swallow hard.
Uma Thurman would think I’m so weak.
I’m falling for my nemesis.
Six
Levi
There are dozens of urgent tasks waiting for me back at the office, but out here in the sunshine, I’m struggling to care. It’s the height of summer, and the city park is full of laughing kids and sunbathing students spread out on picnic blankets. The trill of bicycle bells cuts through the hum of the crowd, and businessmen with loosened ties and rolled sleeves chat together on wooden benches.
Nearby, a cluster of food trucks scent the air with garlic and spice. Sitting with Georgina on the stone lip of a fountain, I think this might be paradise.
“Oh my god.” Her eyes flutter closed with each huge bite of falafel. There’s a glob of hummus on her chin. “Holy shit.I want to die like this, Levi. I’m serious. Bury me in a falafel wrap.”
It’s the first time she’s called me by my first name. I shift against the curved stone wall, trying to convince myself that it’s not a big deal.
Cool mist from the fountain tickles the back of my neck. The sun beats down, hot and harsh, but the breeze flaps our clothes like sails. Long, golden tendrils of hair have escaped from Georgina’s braid, and every passing minute is a battle not to pinch one; to run the length of it between my finger and thumb.
Better not. “You have some hummus—let me—”
She smacks my hand away before I can get it. I blink down at my assistant, but she’s smirking. Playful. There’s none of the antsy rage from before.
“Mine,” she warns, swiping the glob away with her thumb, and heat coils in my gut. Would she be that possessive with a lover? Would she ever bare her teeth overme? “You’ve got your own, boss.”
“Yours looks better.” Maybe it’s the way she’s holding it. Maybe it’s her.
My assistant scoffs. “We got exactly the same thing.”
She crosses her legs then uncrosses them, her blue skirt riding an inch up her thighs. Is she uncomfortable? Should I fetch her a tampon or a painkiller or something? On the walk over here, Georgina quietly admitted that my guess about her period had been right, and now I keep trying to think of ways to make her feel better.
I’m a cutting edge engineer and the leader of my own company, and I’ve never felt more useless.
But I never had sisters growing up to learn this stuff. Barely had time for friends either, especially since I went to college young, always out of step with my peers. And I’ve been so single-minded for so long, hellbent on clean energy tech, that I never learned some of the basics.
Like: how to help with period pain.
Like: how to hide your attraction to your assistant.
Like: don’t guess that a woman might be menstruating when she storms into your office filled with rage. Noted.
“My dad used to work in clean energy.” Georgina’s statement comes out of nowhere, and it takes me a few seconds to catch up. When I do, she’s frowning at her lap, her carefree smile drained away.
“Oh?” Well, this is good, right? If I ever meet her father, we’ll have lots to talk about. Besides how heart-stopping his daughter is, I mean.
Listen, I know I’m Georgina’s boss. Iknowit’s wrong to imagine dating her. But obstacles can be overcome, can’t they?
