Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 84071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
“I know.” I pull out my chair. “I’m getting really nervous I’m going to make a mistake and choose the wrong things.”
“I’ve seen all of your choices, and it’s going to be amazing.” She winks at me. “If they complain, blame me.”
I laugh as I turn on the computer and see Sofia has sent me a checklist of things to go through titled: Countdown to the Gala. I print out the paper, getting up and walking over to the machine before walking back. I spot Caine walking in, his eyes roaming the room as he sees me. We both head toward my desk and his office. With every single step I make, it matches the thud of my heart. It also feels like we’re both walking in slow motion. He’s wearing a black suit with a white button-down shirt. I know his sleeves will be rolled up to his elbows in the next ten minutes. His jacket discarded until he leaves. “Morning,” I greet, “I just went to get a paper out of the photocopier.” I point over my shoulder, trying not to sound as awkward as I feel, also hoping he doesn’t throw in my face that I quit yesterday.
He nods at me and then his eyes find the flowers. “What are those?” He points toward the flowers.
“From the flower shop yesterday,” I say. “You can’t see it, but these are the flowers we chose for the centerpieces.” He nods his head.
“Looks good,” he compliments. “Want to step into my office?” He motions with his head, and I swallow down the boulder forming in my throat. I watch him walk into his office, putting the piece of paper on my desk before following him in there. He’s behind his desk, looking down at something on it.
“Door open or closed?” I ask, and I want to kick myself with that question. He’s going to think I want to jump his boner again.
“Closed would be good,” he decides, his voice as soft as it was yesterday. I walk back to the door and close it, the sound of the click echoing loudly in the quiet.
Taking a second to turn around, I see he’s still standing at his desk. “We should—” he says something.
But my mouth is faster than my brain when I blurt out, “Before you start, I know I quit yesterday, but I was angry because, well, because you are you.” I shrug, hoping he doesn’t ask me what that even means. “Anyway, are you married?” I hate myself for being put in this situation. What if he is married, and he kissed me? I can’t even fathom what I would do.
His head shakes from side to side. “No, of course not.” He walks around his desk and stops at the corner of it. “Do you think I would have kissed you if I was?” He runs his hands through his hair, and all I can do is stare at his lips, knowing how they felt on mine. Knowing that his kiss made me dizzy. Knowing in my whole life I’ve never been kissed the way he kissed me. “What kind of man do you think I am?” he asks but doesn’t give me a chance to answer it. “I would never, ever do that. To you or to me. She’s my ex-wife. That was Meadow’s mother.” My mouth opens, and I’m not sure what to say. “She came here to—”
I hold up my hand. “It doesn’t matter,” I say. Something passes in his eyes, but I don’t know him well enough to know what it is. It looks like it’s disappointment, but it could also be relief. “I’m sorry for”—I wring my hands—“kissing you. It was wrong, and it won’t happen again.” He just watches me, his blue eyes putting a spell on me. “We have a big week ahead of us. The gala is this weekend, and for the next couple of days, I’ll be going crazy, so I’d like to ask that we have a truce.” His eyebrows rise. “We can get back to hating each other next week, but for this week, can we just pretend?” He puts his hand in his pocket, very much like Kevin did in the kitchen, but unlike Kevin, my whole body wants to shiver. “Please.”
He nods at me. “Fine,” he agrees, and I turn to walk out of the room before I turn and ask him if we can put kissing back on the table. My hand turns the handle. “Monday it is.” I look over my shoulder, which is a huge mistake because his eyes hold mine captive. “Make sure my schedule is clear after the Monday morning staff meeting.”
sixteen
Caine
“Why can’t I come with you?” Meadow asks from the middle of my bed, lying back on my pillows with her iPad in her hand on her propped knees. “I have a dress.” She looks up at me, a frown on her face.