Chapter Three
Emma
"Why in the world are you under your desk?" Camila asks, amusement lacing her tone as she tips sideways to peer at me like an owl.
"Shh!" I hiss, waving her away before she gets me busted. It took me ten minutes to squeeze my curvy ass under here. If Zayne finds me because she gave away my hiding spot, I'm quitting.
Okay, that's not true. I love my job and my boss. But I'll be forced to take some sort of drastic action to escape the crazy man. He won't leave me alone. Ever since Camila hired his private security firm, he's become my own personal number twenty-three. He's everywhere, all roads leading back to him.
He keeps telling me that I need to stop fighting and accept that we're going to happen.
Who says that?! Crazy people, that's who.
The first time he said it, I figured he was just being dramatic since I turned him down for a date the day we met. Except, it's been a month, and he still hasn't given up.
Every time I have to call over there for anything, he's the one who answers the phone. I swear, he does it on purpose just so he can argue with me about why I should go out with him!
When I tell him no, he gets cranky.
Have you ever tried to argue with a hot, cranky, relentless giant? Exactly! They have all the infinity stones. Which is precisely how I ended up admitting to him that I want him to keep asking me out. I didn't mean to do it!
He asked me if I wanted him to quit, and I meant to say yes. I should have said yes. He and I can't happen. But instead, my head and my heart went to war when he asked the question and common sense was not victorious. So I'm doing what any woman in my place would do. I'm avoiding him at all costs.
"What in the world is going on?" Camila asks, refusing to go away that easily. She plops down in my chair, lowering it as far as it'll go. "There. Now, I don't feel like I'm going to break my neck trying to see you under there." She blows a strand of hair out of her face. "Why are you hiding under your desk?"
"You didn't tell me Zayne was stopping by today," I hiss. Honestly, this is her fault. Had she warned a girl, I could have done what I've been doing for the last week and made an excuse to leave the office. Instead, he waltzed his fine butt through the door, and I skinned my knee while trying to avoid being seen.
A laugh burbles from Camila's lips. "You're hiding from Zayne?"
I poke my head out from under the desk to shoot a dirty glare up at her. "I'm not hiding."
I'm totally hiding. Zayne Carmichael is relentless and hot. I don't know what to do with either of those things! But, God, I wish I did. Every time I talk to him, he finds a way to be completely outrageous. No matter what's going on or how stressed I am, he makes me laugh. I love that so much.
"Really?" Camila makes her eyes big and looks pointedly at the small space I've managed to wedge myself into. "So whatcha doing under the desk then?"
"Looking for something I lost," I lie, patting around blindly.
"Like your mind?" She smirks at me. "Because you've definitely lost it if you think hiding under there is a better solution than talking to him, Emma."
"I can't talk to him."
"Why not?"
"Because he's hot."
"So are you."
I know I'm not ugly, but I'm not Zayne Carmichael, either. He's on Nashville's Most Eligible list, alongside every other bangable bachelor in the city. I'm a twenty-three-year-old virgin who can squeeze into a size twenty on a good day. We are not the same. I'm not even sure we're the same species, to be honest.
Zayne is intimidating. He knows exactly what he wants and goes for it. I still stutter my way through making my own appointments. He's a freaking former Marine. I barely managed to finish high school on time. His life is neat and orderly. Mine is chaos.
I spend my days chasing my eighty-year-old grandma and her twin sister. Trust me, it's harder than it sounds. They're like the geriatric version of Thelma and Louise, only I never know which of the two is responsible for talking the other into their bad ideas.
If they didn't have glaucoma, they'd watch the world burn. And if they didn't have arthritis, they'd probably dance before the flames.
As soon as the thrill of the chase wears off and Zayne realizes that our worlds are nothing alike, he'll get bored and move on to someone more his speed. That isn't me, even though a big part of me wishes it were.
The truth is I love how relentlessly he chases me and how over-the-top he is about it. For the first time in my life, I feel like someone worthy of being pursued. He makes me feel that way.
Sometimes, I even let myself dream of what it'd be like to let him catch me. But I always wake up alone in my bed again, facing the realization that some dreams just aren't meant to be. Gran and Bets are my family, my responsibility, and it'd break my heart to fall for Zayne only for him to decide he's not ready to spend the best years of his life chasing after two crazy eighty-year-olds. And I wouldn't blame him for that. He has a business to run and his own life to live. Just because I chose this life doesn't mean I get to choose it for anyone else.
Refusing to date him is easier than getting my heart involved in something I know it won't survive. It's better for everyone to leave my heart out of the equation altogether. It can't be trusted if it's anything like my mom's, anyway.
I can't tell Camila that, though. She's one of the bravest people I know, willing to take big risks to mold her life into exactly what she wants. I don't think she'd understand why I'd rather never leave the ground than touch the sky and then have to give it up.
"We just aren't compatible," I say.
"Says who?"
"The universe." I snort, causing a piece of my hair to fly upward. "He has a company to run. I have Gran and Bets to worry about."
"You're worried he'll bail once he realizes you guys are a package deal," she says gently, immediately grasping what I don't voice.
"I just don't think my life is relationship-compatible. That's all."
"Emma."
"It's fine, Camila." I paste a smile on my face. "Honestly. I love taking care of Gran and Bets. And Zayne is not my type anyway. He's way too bossy for me."
He is bossy. And capable. And outspoken. And a million things I've never been. The man says exactly what he's thinking, regardless of who might hear him. He doesn't make apologies for who he is or care what anyone thinks. He's exactly who he is, no more and no less.
"Uh-huh," Camila says, not buying that for a minute. "He's not your type so much that you're hiding under the desk."
"I'm not hiding."
"Oh, yeah?" She glances up and then looks back down at me, a mischievous smirk on her face. "Then you won't mind if I'm sitting here talking to you when he comes back in, right?"
"What? Why? Is he at the door?" I squeak, trying to peer through the holes along the bottom of the desk to see. I can't, darn it all. We need more spy-worthy desks. These suck.
"Yep. He'll be walking through the doors any minute now."
"Oh, my God. Go!" I push the chair away from the desk, my heart pounding. "Before he figures out that I'm under here."
"Told you that you were hiding," she says, her laughter floating down to me as she rises from the chair.
Well, crap. I guess I walked right into that one.
"There you are."
Oh, crap on a cracker.
I spin around, holding my thermos like a deadly weapon as that familiar deep Southern growl sounds behind me. Dread shoots through me as soon as my gaze lands on Zayne stomping across the breakroom in my direction. So does an overdose of desire.
If looks could kill, I'd be dust. And if his jawline were any sharper, it'd be dangerous.
Sweet Baby Jesus. Some people really get all the luck. And by some people, I mean Zayne Carmichael, specifically. If he's not God's favorite, he's definitely in the top three.
The man is gorgeous with his messy hair and steely gray eyes. Our breakroom looks like a freaking closet with him filling it. And it's not his size, which is impressive enough, but his presence. He commands attention without even saying a word.
"What are you doing in here?" I squeak. Yes, squeak like I've got something stuck in my throat. "You aren't supposed to be in here."
"Neither are you." One dark brow rises as he smirks at me. "But you've been avoiding me, so here I am."
"I have not," I lie.
"No? So you just so happened to be out of the office every time I've stopped by for the last week?"
"Camila needs lots of things." I inch along the counter, keeping space between us. "I'm her assistant. Assistants assist by running errands and getting things. It's in the job description, Zayne."
"Uh-huh. And skipping Adrian's last book signing because I was there? How do you explain that?" He keeps prowling toward me, his eyes locked on my face.
"I had things to take care of. Personal things," I clarify. "It had nothing to do with you." Which is actually true. Gran had her annual MRI.
"Right. And hiding under the desk when you saw me comin'? What's your excuse for that one, baby girl?"
"I wasn't hiding. I was looking for something. How was I supposed to know you were here?"
"What were you looking for?"
"Something."
"What?"
"A tampon." It's the first thing that comes to mind. I don't know why. Maybe because the universe does, in fact, hate me.
His steps falter for a minute, his lips turning up at the corners. "You were under the desk looking for a tampon?"
"Yes. I mean, no." I squeeze my eyes closed and wait for the floor to open up and swallow me, but it doesn't. In fact, my mouth just keeps going, shooting straight for trainwreck scenario. "I mean, it fell out."
Mary, Mother of God. Please make me stop talking now.
"It fell out?" His smile is so big now.
"Of my purse! It fell out of my purse."
"Do they fall out often?"
"Please stop talking now," I whisper, though I don't know if I'm talking to him or to myself. Either way, I really want this conversation to end immediately. I just told the hottest man I've ever met that I was looking under my desk for a tampon that fell out.
Maybe I'm the crazy one here.
"Did you find it? Get everything taken care of down there, baby girl?"
My eyes pop open. "I'm not discussing this with you, Zayne."
"Tampons or your cycle?"
"We're not talking about either."
"Periods are normal, lamb. I'd be more concerned if you didn't have them." A little smile tugs at his lips, mischief in his gray eyes. "Although, tampons falling out may be a cause for concern too. I'll have to research and see what causes that."
He's going to research tampons falling out?
"Stop talking." I'm definitely talking to him this time.
The rich sound of his laugh rolls over me. "I'll stop teasing you if you agree to have dinner with me tonight."
"We've been over this. I can't date you."
"So you keep saying," he growls, quickly closing the remaining distance between us. Before I can slip past him, he's in front of me, blocking me in with one arm on the cabinet over my head. "But you had your chance to get rid of me, and you didn't take it. We both know that's because you're dying to say yes."
"No, I'm not."
"I don't know why you're fighting so hard, lamb. You know it's only a matter of time until you admit you can't breathe without me," he murmurs, leaning down over me. He's so freaking close I smell the mint of his toothpaste and the spice of his cologne. I feel the heat radiating from his body. All my senses work together. Which is to say they work against me, putting me under whatever sexual voodoo he's working on me.
"B-back up," I whisper.
"Go to dinner with me."
"I told you, I can't."
"Why not?"
"I have stuff."
"What kind of stuff?" His hand curves around my jaw, tilting my head up until our eyes meet. "What are you so afraid of?"
"N-nothing," I lie.
"Liar."
Lord, it's hard to think with him this close.
"I'm not lying, Zayne," I huff, annoyed because he's hot and close and right, darn it. There is a reason. There are two of them. They're eighty, and just last week, they got kicked out of a casino in Tunica for trying and failing to count cards. "Maybe I'd rather spend the time with my grandma than date you."
His expression softens. "You take care of your grandma?"
"Yes. And her twin sister." I lift my chin. "They live with me. So see? I'm not scared of anything. I'm just busy."
"Maybe that's true," he murmurs, tipping his head down as if he's telling me a secret. "But we both know the real reason you keep tellin' me no is because you felt the same thing I did that first day at my office, and it scared the shit out of you, Emma. You're trying to push me away and pull me closer at the same time, terrified that you'll make the wrong move."
"I F-felt what?"
"Like you were meant to be mine." His lips brush mine, cutting me off before I can think up a suitable denial. I feel his kiss like a gong ringing in my soul. "One day real soon, you're going to stop telling me no. When you do, I'm putting my ring on your finger and my kid in your belly."
I stand there, dumbfounded, as he drops another kiss on my lips and then winks at me.
"Have fun with your grandma tonight, lamb. I'll see you soon."