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Mr. Huntington opens the room door and lets me in first. It's so much warmer in here.
We come to a halt on the small patch of tiles at the entry. The rest of the room is carpeted, and I don't want to get it wet, which means…I'm standing in very close proximity to Mr. Huntington.
So close, I can make out the outline of his meaty pecs through his rain-drenched business shirt.
So close, I can inhale his expensive cologne as it wafts in the air.
So close, that if I wanted to, I could reach out, curl my fingers around his neck, and pull him in for a nice, long, decadent kis—
"Kyler."
My eyes snap open. Shit. When did they close?
Concern fills Mr. Huntington's almond-shaped eyes. "Are you okay?"
Sure. I'm fine. A-okay. Nothing to see here, folks.Just a mild panic attack during the start of a hurricane followed by being forced to share a room with my boss who requires I use up every ounce of willpower I possess not to fall at his feet.
I smile. "I'm great."
A thick eyebrow arches. "In that case, I assume that door is to the bathroom. You go shower first."
"Are you sure?"
"I am." He looks down, and I follow his gaze.
I'm shivering and hadn't even realized.
"Um, okay. I'll be quick."
"Take your time."So damn considerate.He's just as wet and cold as I am and yet he's putting me first.
I run on my tiptoes toward the bathroom, trying not to drip all over the floor. I peel out of my wet clothes and crank on the hot water. It sluices over my shoulders, and that's when it really sinks in.
The trauma of the childhood accident blends with the nine months I've spent calibrating my emotions, keeping my relationship with Mr. Huntington purely professional.
Heck, I've never once called the man by his first name.
He has no idea what I feel for him.
But now… I've cracked.
I slide down the tiled wall and start sobbing.
2
Miles
I notice it as I'm standing saturated in the entryway after Kyler dashes into the bathroom.
It's muffled at first by the water running, then almost drowned out by the rain beating down outside.
But I hear it. I definitely hear it.
My protective instincts spike, the hairs on my arms standing on edge. I press my ear to the bathroom door, my breath catching in my throat.
Kyler is crying.
I back away, not because I want to leave him, but because I want to give him the privacy he deserves. It's the same reason I kept my eyes glued to my phone in the car. The last thing a person needs when going through a panic attack is someone gawking at them.
