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He glances over at me across the rust-colored, vinyl bench seat. “She’s got you down there in the city. Has for years, and if I know one thing about my oldest daughter, it’s that once she sets her mind to something, there’s nothing you can say or do to change it.”
He’s got that right, and because I can’t set him straight on the facts of Lauryn and my relationship, no matter how much I’d like to, I agree with what I can. “Your daughter is one of the most headstrong people I’ve ever met. She’s candid and hellbent when she gets a notion in her head. But that’s a big part of what I respect most about her. Lauryn never hesitates to speak her truth. She is always one-hundred percent herself.”
What I respect but also what I love.
It’s the first time I’ve ever uttered aloud even a fraction of what I feel in my bones about the woman I’ve spent every working day with for the past two years. The first time I’ve ever put into words how I feel about her. It’s a relief to share this secret with another soul, but it’s also torture in the purest sense of the word.
Lauryn needed a boyfriend for the weekend, and I jumped at the chance. She wasn’t looking for forever, at least not with me.
“I wouldn’t be so sure about your daughter never moving home, sir,” I say, turning the empty water bottle around and around in my hand. “She loves it here. You can hear it in her voice. You can see it in her smile and in her eyes. Trust me when I tell you she loves the orchard much more than she loves me.”
Lauryn’s dad glances over at me before he steps on the brake and shifts into first. “You’re a lawyer, no?”
“I am.”
“You might be a smart fella, but you’re as blind as they come.”
“What?”
He shakes his head as we rumble off down the road. “If you can’t see what’s plain as day right in front of you, maybe you don’t deserve it after all.”
Lauryn |Saturday night
Theflickeringflamesfromthe bonfire dance in the dim October evening. The festival was a success, and I’m bone tired after a long day and a warm, filling dinner. The crackling embers are mesmerizing as I think of how much I love times like these here, at the orchard, but I snap out of the trance as my father sinks down next to me on the bench. He hands me a hard cider, his weathered face illuminated by the blaze, and clinks bottles with me before he takes a long swig and nods. “He’ll do, Bug.”
I don’t need to ask, and he doesn’t need to explain. The high praise coming from my dad, who’s always been the man I’ve measured every guy against, lands in my stomach with a thud. My fingers tighten around the bottle, and I search out Miles in the crowd. I don’t spot him until I look closer. He’s joined the circle of men, my brothers-in-law and soon-to-be one, standing around the woodpile with legs propped up on it, as if he’s known them for years rather than hours, with a rare, relaxed smile on his face. My heart pounds like a bass drum.
He’s done it. Convinced my family we’re a happy couple. Mission accomplished. But it’s a double-edged sword because even if, for a few days, we can play the parts, Miles is still my boss. And my true feelings for him are still my own little secret. Come Monday morning, things will be back to normal. I’ve got one more night here, and if there was ever a chance to feel those lips on mine again, to feel his body pressed against mine, this is it.
I turn and kiss my dad’s cheek with a soft, “Thank you,” then rise, making my way toward Miles. He turns when I approach and tucks me against his side with an arm around my shoulder as if it’s the most natural position in the world.
I fit perfectly against him and slip my free hand into his back pocket. His ass under my fingertips, an ass I’ve admired more times than I can count around the office, is tighter than I ever imagined. But the reminder of the office gives me pause.
I can’t help but wonder if this is the beginning of the end of my time at the firm. It doesn’t seem as if now that this wall between us has crumbled, even if only for a few days, I can ever go back to being Miles’ personal assistant. I’ve fallen too hard to ever recover. Maybe, it’s time I think about moving on with my job. And my life.
“Everything okay,” Miles murmurs against my hair, his eyes finding mine and searching, as if he can tell the path my thoughts have taken.
“Yeah,” I assure him with a squeeze, pushing away the plan along with the heartache I imagine will come with it. “Just a long day.”
“Ready to turn in?”
There’s not a hint of innuendo in his voice, and the wrinkles crisscrossing his forehead are genuine concern for my fatigue. But that kiss against the car yesterday, when his lips left me breathless and squirming for more, still lingers in my mind.
I could barely sleep last night, my body so attuned to his every move and turn on the floor only feet away. If there’s ever a chance to feel his touch, it’s now. I risk making a move, laying it all on the line, because the worst he can do is deny me. I make my intentions clear in four little words. “Only if you are.”
His eyes narrow, and I expect more hesitation, more uncertainty, but it’s barely a second before he presses a soft kiss to my lips and murmurs against them, “Oh, I am.”
It’s a good thing my second youngest sister and her husband, who are staying in the guest room below us, are still out at the bonfire because the second the door clicks closed behind Miles and he turns the lock, there’s no holding either of us back.
This getaway, out of our normal patterns and ways of seeing each other, has stripped us of our usual roles and inhibitions in a way I didn’t expect. The charade has worked like a charm, and we’ve got everyone fooled, but until we reach the city limits tomorrow, there seems to be an unspoken agreement between us that tonight we keep up the façade, pretending we’re a real couple, even when we’re alone.
We’ll give in to the blazing connection between us now, and come Monday morning, it’ll be back to work. Back to normal. I expect nothing more. But I’ll take what I can get.
Wordlessly, we come together in the middle of the room. Miles’ fingers grip my hips as his lips crash down on mine. They’re hungry and eager, as if there’s a dam that’s been breached and now that the water has been released, he can’t control the flow.
His hands slide up my back, clutching tightly as he pulls me closer. I’m just as desperate to feel him and wind my arms up around his neck as my fingers tangle in his hair. The electricity between us is palpable, and I’m writhing as his hands roam over my body, exploring every inch as if committing each curve to memory.
Sparks shoot through my nerve endings, and I’m on fire, lost to the sensations. Any last reservations I might have had are erased by his touch, by the way he murmurs my name as if I’m the answer to his prayers.
