AllFreeNovel
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You’re leaving in January to film your new show anyway, so no reason to get all flustered over a silly nickname.
Easier said than done.
Julian gets a call as soon as he parks outside the art store, so I take it as a sign of divine intervention. Spending time around him is one thing, but welcoming him into my sanctuary?
Absolutely not happening.
I reach for the handle, only to be stopped as he grabs my left hand. It’s not meant to be an intimate gesture, yet my heart picks up speed anyway.
Wait, he mouths before releasing me from his grip.
He pulls a Centurion card from his wallet and holds it out for me. I blink at it a couple times and rub my eyes to be sure the name on the front of the card is correct.
How is he the same guy who lived off gift cards during his youth?
Why?I mouth.
Company expense, he replies.
I must not reach for the card fast enough for Julian’s liking because his eyes roll as he tucks his Amex into the front left pocket of my jeans.
The heat from his fingers remains long after I rush out of the truck and head into the store.
With the art supply store closing in less than thirty minutes, I make quick work of my shopping list. Although it doesn’t have everything I prefer to use while designing and planning, it has what I’ll need to get me through the Founder’s house project.
I throw a few extra things in my cart since this trip is being sponsored by Julian’s bank account, including a few picture frames for my office, an artificial Christmas tree because ’tis the season to be spending, and enough yarn to crochet a scarf for every single person in town. I don’t even crochet, but I had an insane urge to try after touching a hundred different balls of yarn.
With a swipe of Julian’s company credit card and a quick signature for a fan across the back of a discarded receipt, I head back to the truck with the wheels of my cart squeaking from the sheer weight of my haul.
Julian leans against the truck with his phone still glued to his ear. My cart rattles, and he looks up.
“Gotta go, Rafa.” Julian hangs up the phone with an arched brow. “A Christmas tree?”
“I thought we could liven up your office a bit.” With all the time I’m spending there, I’d love something to stare at besidesmy own reflection in all the shiny glass and chrome fixtures.
“We haven’t made it past Thanksgiving yet.”
I tsk. “It’s never too early to celebrate the birth of our Lord.”
He plucks some bags from the cart. “Research suggests Jesus was actually born in the spring.”
I rise on the tips of my toes and clamp a hand over his mouth. “Don’t repeat that in front of my mother.Ever.” She’s the type to put our family nativity scene out early, minus baby Jesus, because he doesn’t make his official debut until midnight on Christmas Eve.
His eyes narrow.
I press harder. “You got it?”
He has the audacity to nip at the palm of my hand. I remove it with a gasp, only for him to clutch it within his punishing grip.
“My card?”
“I lost it.”
The man scowls.
“Kidding!” I expect him to release me, but instead, Julian keeps me pinned against his chest as he searches my pockets for the card. The graze of his fingers is quick and clinical until they slide into my back pocket, gliding over my ass cheek as he takes his sweet time getting the slim credit card.
I battle between two feelings, neither of which is discomfort.
