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“Care to elaborate?” I ask, arching a brow.
“I know you don’t want to hear this, but you’re just another number, Skylar. At any point in time, your company could be forced to make budget cuts and your job could be on the chopping block. If you were to quit today, they would have your position posted by tomorrow and would probably have it filled within the next week or two. Do you get what I’m trying to say? Everyone is replaceable. No job is worth giving up your life for.”
Damn, he’s right.He’s absolutely right.
“I understand that, but it’s not like I hate my job,” I add, still feeling the need to defend myself. “I actually love what I do.”
I hope he can see that I’m not bluffing. I genuinely love my career. When I shut my laptop at the end of the day, I know that I made a positive impact on someone’s life. There’s nothing like seeing a new hire walk into the office on their first day and knowing you helped them take the next step in their career. It truly is a rewarding job.
“You can love what you do and still set boundaries. But you have to give yourself a break, Skylar. I can almost guarantee that your manager isn't asking you to work overtime for free. Actually, I’m pretty sure that would be illegal.”
“As an HR professional, I can confirm that is highly illegal,” I chuckle.
“Exactly, so stop putting so much pressure on yourself. Log on at eight and log off at five. Work hard and do what you can during business hours, but enjoy your free time when you’re off. Life is too short, Sky.”
Like a siren going off, alarm flashes in Everett’s eyes when he realizes that he called me by my nickname. Almost all of my close friends and family call me Sky, but it’s certainly more personal… more intimate. Judging by his reaction, he definitely didn't plan to say it.
I smile softly, letting him know that it’s not a big deal. It’s just a nickname.
“Thank you, Everett. I really needed to hear that. You seem like a great leader. Noah and Liam are lucky to work for you.”
I really do appreciate what he said. In my opinion, every manager should have a similar conversation with their employees. Setting work boundaries is something that both Elliot and I need to be conscious of. We don’t make enough time for each other, and even when we do, work always seems to interrupt.
Everett clears his throat, gesturing his hand toward our half-eaten food. “We should hurry up and eat so we can get back on the road. Temperatures are dropping quickly.”
I can tell by his body language that he wasn’t expecting my compliment. He’s acting all weird and uncomfortable, like he can’t just say thank you. Every time our conversation gets too personal, he seems to shut down.
I can’t be upset about it, though. Honestly, how can I blame him? The more I think about it, the more I realize how good of a man Everett is. The fact that he even agreed to drive me all this way shows what type of person he is. If the roles were reversed, I’m not sure I could have said yes. With our history, I can almost guarantee I would have said no.
EIGHT
Everett
Close to two hours after we stopped for lunch, we’re finally crossing over the Texas border into New Mexico, which has two types of landscapes: rugged mountains and the flattest plains imaginable. I’m currently staring out the window at absolutely nothing. There’s not even a single house or livestock for as far as the eye can see. Dead grass, sprawling fields, gray skies, and small flurries of snow are the only scenery we have to enjoy for the time being.
Well, Skylar isn't looking at anything right now because she’s dead asleep. She hasn't so much as flinched in the past hour. Hell, I don’t even think the horn of an eighteen-wheeler could wake her up.
The deeper she falls into sleep, the more her body unconsciously leans toward mine. Her upper half is draped over the center console, her head resting on top of her forearm. Her hand lazily dangles by my torso, her fingers lightly brushing my rib cage each time we hit a road bump.
I’ve never hated road bumps more in my entire fucking life for two reasons. First off, each hole and divot in the asphalt causes us to break our no-touching rule. There’s no point in having the heater on when the faint brush of Skylar’s fingers is already doing the job. Even though her touch is faint through the cotton of my sweatshirt, it still feels as if she’s burning a hole through my skin.
And secondly, I internally curse the bumps in the road for threatening to wake up the sleeping beauty next to me.God, she looks so beautiful.I hate that she’s so beautiful.
Her chestnut hair falls in soft waves down the edge of the console, the dark ends resting in my lap. I’ve always held on to the memory of her silky locks glimmering in the sun, making her hair appear a shade lighter. But now that I’ve seen what it looks like on gloomy days like today, I’m mesmerized by how the wavy strands darken to deep mahogany. I can’t decide which one I like more. I wish her sunny and gloomy days belonged solely to me, that way I would never have to decide.
Her dark eyelashes flutter like she’s dreaming as her chest rises and falls with soft, steady breaths. The cropped t-shirt she’s wearing has ridden up, revealing the smooth skin of her hips and stomach. I try to not look, but I can’t fucking help myself.
If she were mine, I would reach over and trace her exposed skin with the pads of my fingers. I might even slip my hand past the button of her jeans until my fingers connect with the sexy lace panties I know she likes to wear. I would skim my hand back and forth, slowly, so slowly across the thin material until she’s begging me to touch her. Heat simmers low in my belly when I imagine how wet she’d be for me. If she were mine, I would drive her fucking wild.
But she’s not, and I’m only digging myself into a hole I can’t crawl out of by thinking this way. Tucking my hard dick under the waistband of my jeans, I begrudgingly tear my eyes away from her body, forcing myself to focus my gaze on the road ahead.
“Shit!” I curse, louder than intended. My foot pounds on the brake, bringing the truck to a screeching halt. I was so wrapped up in Skylar, that I didn’t see the stand-still traffic straight ahead of us.
“What the hell, Everett?” Skylar croaks, her fingers digging into the leather seat. Thankfully she’s buckled up, or she would have been thrown against the dashboard. The seat belt is pressed tightly against her bare hip, which I’m sure will leave a burn on her soft skin.
Fuck, how could have I been so careless?I wasn't paying attention.
“I’m sorry, Sky,” I rush out, carefully assessing her as she wriggles back into a sitting position. “The traffic came out of nowhere and I… I had to brake. Are you okay?”
