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He wished . . . he wanted . . .
He shook himself. What he wished or wanted didn’t signify. Still, he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and cupping her cheek in the palm of his hand.
“Thank you. For tonight. For coming. It meant a lot.” They passed another light, and he could see the small smile on her lips. She lifted her hand to cover his, stroking her palm over the backs of his fingers.
“I’m happy I went.” He turned his hand until her fingers were caught in his grip and brought them to his mouth to kiss the backs of her knuckles.
“This week may have been a bit rough and slightly bizarre and ever so surreal. But I have no regrets,” he told her, and her fingers squeezed around his hand.
“I’m happy to hear that,” she said, and, in what appeared to be a completely impulsive move, gave him a quick peck on his cheek.
Daisy turned her head to look at them, her curiosity evident despite the car’s dim interior.
“Are you guys sure you’re just friends?” she asked softly. Her voice was speculative. Daff’s fingers tightened around his once more before she replied.
“Never been more certain of anything in my life,” she said sincerely, and Spencer swallowed past the lump of emotion in his throat and smiled.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Why are you being so secretive? Why can’t you just tell me what your plans are for this place?” Daff asked, crunching into a crisp green apple while she spoke and peering at Spencer closely. He’d been making vague references to potential changes and expansions to SCSS for weeks now, and it was driving her crazy.
He was peeling an orange and gave her one of those inscrutable looks that always drove her a little crazy over the top of his glasses. He just looked so freaking hot and stern. He couldn’t seem to maintain the stern expression this time and grinned, looking almost boyish in his excitement.
“I think I can talk about it without jinxing it now. Since the plans were approved this morning,” he said, his smile widening. “I’m adding a gym and juice bar up here. Top-of-the-line equipment, world-class instructors, and we’ll be offering everything from personal fitness training to Pilates to yoga to kickboxing. I want SCSS to be a one-stop shop for all your fitness needs. Buy the gear downstairs; use it upstairs.”
“Oh my God, Spencer, that’s freaking amazing!” Daff enthused, and his chest expanded at her praise. He looked prouder than a new father.
“Better still, I’m opening a second branch in George early next year. Claude will run it for me.”
Daff squealed, genuinely excited for him. She knew how much the store meant to him. After weeks of shared lunches, she still learned something new about him every day, but his pride in this store was something that had always been evident.
She leaned back in the rickety desk chair that she had claimed as her own and stared at the ceiling.
“You know that once you start renovating up here, you’re going to lose Nelly, right?” she asked, referring to the elephant-shaped stain above his desk. She had named it Nelly the very first time she’d brought him lunch here.
“Nah, I’ll ask them to save that ceiling board for me and frame it or something. I need something to look at when I’m concentrating.”
They talked about the expansion plans a bit more, while at the same time spitballing ideas for Daff’s future career.
“Maybe you could be a yoga instructor,” Spencer speculated. “You’re constantly wearing yoga pants in your free time anyway.”
He’d noticed that, had he? Since they’d put an end to their no-sex sex thing, he’d been really good about not flirting or treating her in any overtly sexual way, but she’d caught him staring at her ass a few times. Mostly when she wore yoga pants, come to think of it. It made her feel better about the hankering she felt for him every time she got within five feet of the man.
“I’m sure it would be a great career opportunity for me if I didn’t suck at yoga,” she dismissed, and his eyes widened.
“For someone who’s not very good at it, you own a shitload of yoga pants.”
“Yeah? I also own a ton of jumpsuits, but that doesn’t mean I want to be a fighter pilot.” He choked at her words and then laughed.
“I’m picturing a fighter pilot in some of those jumpsuits women wear these days,” he elaborated, and she giggled. “In all seriousness, when Claude leaves this branch, I’ll be looking for a new manager,” he said pointedly.
“Keep looking, mister,” she said, taking another bite from her apple. “Because I’m leaving the whole managing gig behind permanently.”
She just wished she knew what to do instead. The two months had practically flown by and she had just a week of work left. She was already training a new woman to take her place, but Daff still had no clue what she wanted to do.
