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A heavy sigh. “So many things.” Her eyes rise to mine. “I probably seem like such a mess.”
I lean back in the chair and kick my shoes off. “To who?”
“You, dummy.” She laughs softly, then abruptly clams up. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to call you ‘dummy.’ Ugh, I think I’m nervous.”
Man, I want to kiss her.
Raya’s warning rushes back, blaring like a siren.
“I just wish—” she pushes both of her hands through her hair, then scrubs them down her face, obviously bothered.
I don’t know what to say to help. I really want to—but I can’t figure out the right words.
I look at her lips and try to remember a single reason why kissing her right now would be a bad idea.
One, she’s my employee. Such a bad look. Two, it’s complicated. Every relationship is.
Three . . . me. I’m aware enough to realize that I’m an anvil that would keep her from soaring.
She deserves the best of everything, and I am not that. Not by a longshot.
“Forget it. It’s dumb.” She stands.
“Sit back down,” I say, a little bossier than I mean to.
“Oh. Okay.” She sits, hands folded on her lap.
I take a breath. “Can I try saying that again? I think I can do better.”
She gets a quizzical smile on her face. “Sure.”
I clear my throat. “You were in the middle of a thought,” I stare at her. “So, finish it. Please.”
She presses her lips together, a slightly shell-shocked expression on her face. “A ‘please.’ That’s progress, Mr. Hawke.”
Good. She’s kidding around again.
“I’m a slow learner.”
She looks down, gathers herself, then says, “I just wish you didn’t hear any of that stuff with Jay. My ex. His name is Jay.”
“So, it’s not Mr. Turtleneck?”
A laugh escapes like a tiny sliver of sunshine through a crack in a cave wall.
“No,” she says.
“You told me his name,” I say.
She frowns. “I did?”
“On New Year’s Eve.”
She goes still, and if she’s wondered how well I paid attention that night, I guess she has her answer.
Her eyes meet mine. “I hate that he made me feel . . . small.”
I nod and my pulse kicks up. “I hate that he did that too.”
