Chapter 2 #2
"I do, actually. I've been doing public appearances for years. The first few are nerve-racking, but eventually, they become routine." I tilted my head, studying her.
"I just don't enjoy being the center of attention." It wasn't the whole truth.
I could see the evasion in the way she avoided my gaze, but I didn't press. "And my boss kissed me in front of the whole town," she blurted out before covering her face with both hands.
The one thing I tried not to bring up at all and she blurted it out so effortlessly.
It should have been a non-thing.
We were both mature adults with the ability to recognize acting and the difference between reality and stage performance.
But she was right about one thing—everyone at that festival and probably on the local news this evening had seen or would see it.
And now she'd said it aloud, and I couldn't ignore it anymore.
"I apologize," I said carefully. "That was unprofessional. I should have restrained myself and kept it brief, but the crowd was watching, and I let myself get carried away."
I was apologizing again, and this time for something I didn't want to say I was sorry for.
That kiss was electric and the look in her eyes afterward showed me she felt it too.
"I didn't hate it," she said from behind her hands.
I blinked. "What?"
She lowered her hands slowly, her face flushed. "The kiss. I didn't hate it."
Her words hit me square in the chest.
I opened my mouth, then closed it, unsure how to respond.
The room suddenly felt too warm, the space between us charged with an energy I hadn't felt in years.
She was biting her lip, gawking at me uncertainly, and I became acutely aware of how young she was, how inappropriate this entire conversation had become.
"I see," I managed to choke out nervously. This conversation had gone from zero to sixty in a blink of an eye.
Ember shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her cheeks still pink. "I should water your plants."
"My plants?"
"You have plants. On the windowsill. They look dry." She was already moving toward the window, using it as a distraction from the giant can of worms she just opened. "I'll just get some water from the break room."
She fled before I could form a response, leaving me standing alone in my office with my heart racing.
I ran a hand through my hair and let out a slow breath to try to calm myself.
I found myself smiling slightly at the idea that a woman that young "didn't hate" the fact that I'd kissed her.
It'd been ages since I kissed a woman—really kissed one—and I was definitely out of practice, and that definitely wasn't my best effort.
It was a spur of the moment thing I hadn't even prepared for.
But the kiss had been good.
Better than good, if I were being honest.
Her mouth had been soft and warm, and for a moment—a brief, reckless moment—I'd forgotten we were standing on a stage in front of hundreds of people.
I'd forgotten the cameras and the crowd.
In the moment, I wanted more, to lean into that physical contact and to pull her closer, take my time exploring that mouth, learning what made her breath catch.
But I'd forced myself to pull back, to remember where we were and who was watching.
And she didn't hate it.
I walked to my desk chair and sat down to think.
This was dangerous territory.
She was my employee, twenty-four years old to my forty-eight.
The power dynamic alone made any attraction I felt deeply inappropriate, but add the age dynamic and I was no better than a predator, a cradle robber.
My father would have a field day with this if he knew—another example of his son's emotional immaturity, his inability to maintain proper boundaries.
I rubbed my face with both hands trying to get myself to snap out of it, but I couldn't stop myself.
The door opened, and Ember returned carrying a glass of water.
She'd composed herself somewhat, though she didn't make eye contact.
Her expression remained neutral as she crossed to the window and began tending to the small potted ferns I kept on the sill.
I watched her water each one while the swell of hormones in my body kept me on edge and ready to make a bold move that would certainly land me in a heap of trouble.
"Ember," I said quietly.
There I was using an informal address, which was far from my worst mistake, but added to the growing pile of bad choices… I was on a downward slope into something I knew I'd never be able to control.
She didn't turn around. "Yes?"
"Did you mean what you said? That you didn't hate the kiss?"
She stood stock still for a second, empty glass hovering over the last fern, and then she straightened.
She cupped the glass with both hands and slowly turned toward me with a rose-colored tint on her cheeks, but it was her dark lips that drew my attention.
She was turned on too, and the blood rushing to her face betrayed her.
"If you weren't my boss," she said slowly, "I'd have gotten your number."
As soon as the words left her mouth, she turned and marched out of my office, and it was a good thing because her simple reply had made me rock hard.
I would've gotten right up and asked if she'd like to give it another shot, and that would have been career suicide.
My father's voice hammered in the back of my mind with sharp disapproval.
You're too old to be chasing after girls half your age. Grow up, Nathan. Act your age.
But I pushed the thought away.
For once, I didn't want to hear his judgment.
I wanted to sit in this moment and feel the warmth spreading through my chest, the dangerous, intoxicating possibility that maybe—just maybe—I wasn't as alone as I'd convinced myself I was.