Chapter 5
The girls are waiting for me when I walk into Chloe's closed coffee shop.
All of them. It has been months since we’ve all been together and I’m excited to see them sitting around the biggest table in the back corner with expressions that range from curious to downright gleeful.
"Finally," Madison says, gesturing to the empty chair beside her. "Sit. Spill. Everything."
I slide into the seat, accepting the latte Chloe pushes across the table. "There's nothing to spill."
"Liar," Holly says cheerfully. "You spent last night at his house."
"In a guest room."
"Still counts," Amber chimes in.
Maya leans forward, elbows on the table. "Start from the beginning. What's he like?"
Where do I even start?
"He's... thoughtful. Attentive. He listens when I talk, like he's actually interested in what I'm saying."
"That's bare minimum behavior," Emily points out gently.
"I know. But it doesn't feel bare minimum when it's happening. It feels..." I search for the right word. "Special."
Madison exchanges a look with Holly that I can't quite decipher.
"What?" I ask.
"Nothing," Madison says innocently. "Continue."
"He cooked me dinner. We talked for hours. Then he insisted I stay because it was late and I'd had wine."
"Gentleman," Chloe says approvingly.
"Or strategist," Amber counters. "Get you comfortable in his space. Smart move."
"It wasn't like that." Although even as I say it, I'm not entirely sure. "He gave me space. Didn't push."
"But you wanted him to," Holly says. It's not a question.
Heat crawls up my neck. "Maybe."
The table erupts in reactions. Madison claps her hands together. Maya grins. Emily looks concerned but intrigued.
"Okay, timeout." Chloe makes a T with her hands. "Before we get ahead of ourselves, let's address the elephant in the room. You're working for him, Lily. That's a power dynamic."
"I know."
"Do you?" Emily's voice is kind but serious. "Because mixing business with pleasure can get messy really fast."
"We haven't mixed anything," I protest weakly.
"Yet," Amber says.
"He's sixteen years older than you," Maya adds, though she doesn't sound judgmental. Just factual.
"I'm aware."
"Are you, though?" Madison tilts her head. "Because age gap relationships come with their own challenges. Trust me. Ty and I—"
"Are literally perfect together," I interrupt. "You two are disgustingly happy."
Madison's smile softens. "We are. But it took work to get here. Communication. Boundaries. Being honest about what we needed."
"Speaking of needs." Holly's grin turns wicked. "I’m assuming since one of your Daddy books fell into his groceries, he knows about what you like?"
I bury my face in my hands. "I knew that would come back to haunt me."
"Did he say anything about it?" Chloe asks.
"He asked if I enjoyed it last night."
The table goes silent.
"He what now?" Madison's eyes are huge.
"He asked if I enjoyed the book, not the dynamic. And I said yes. And then we talked about what I found compelling about both."
"Lily," Holly's voice is filled with awe. "You talked about Daddy Dom dynamics with your ridiculously hot employer?"
"When you say it like that, it sounds bad."
"Or incredibly brave," Emily offers.
"Or incredibly stupid," I mutter.
Maya reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. "It's not stupid if you both know what you're doing. But do you? Know what you're doing?"
That's the question, isn't it? But then again, do any of us ever know what we are doing? I think about Ethan's hand on mine at dinner. The way he looked at me when I admitted I wanted to know him too. The quiet authority in his voice when he told me to go see my friends, to take care of myself.
"I don't know," I admit. "But I want to find out. I just met him, but both of you fell instantly for your Daddies," I look at Madi and Holly. "I know it’s possible to meet someone and just know. I don’t know if he is meant to be my Daddy, but I know I am attracted to him and he’s checked off all of my boxes. "
"Then find out," Madison says firmly. "But be smart about it. Keep communicating clearly, make sure to set boundaries and if you have sex, give us all the details." The last part of her sentence makes me choke on my latte.
I roll my eyes. We always say we will share the details of our sex lives, but we never do. The most we ever tell is if it’s good or not. Some things are better left between the couples.
"Don't let the money or the mansion or those stupid sexy forearms distract you from what you want," Chloe says. "Keep your priorities straight."
"His forearms are really nice though," I say weakly.
The table dissolves into laughter.
We spend the next hour talking about everything else. Chloe's new coffee blend. Amber's upcoming gaming tournament. Maya's latest impossible client who wants a luxury vacation on a budget airline price.
But my mind keeps drifting back to Ethan.
The way he values my work and my ideas. How comfortable I am with him already, how he showed up and participated in the planning stages instead of just throwing money at it. And, the way he comes across as dominant but gentle at the same time.
When I finally leave the coffee shop, my phone buzzes.
Ethan: Did you survive the interrogation?
I smile despite myself.
Lily: Barely. They had a lot of questions.
Ethan: I'm sure they did. What did you tell them?
Lily: That you're bossy and you cook too well and your house is unreasonably nice.
Ethan: Bossy?
Lily: You literally told me I had to go see them.
Ethan: Because you needed to. There's a difference between being bossy and caring about your wellbeing.
Something warm unfurls in my chest. His answers to my questions are always exactly right.
Lily: Is there?
Ethan: Yes. And you know it.
I do know it. That's what scares me.
Ethan: Come back tomorrow. Same time?
I notice he doesn’t ask about me coming back, only about the time.
Lily: You're very demanding.
Ethan: Only when it comes to things that matter.
Lily: I matter?
Ethan: More than you realize.
I stare at the screen, my heart doing acrobatics.
I remember that he’s paying me an obscene amount of money for the week.
But how long can it possibly take to hire a few vendors and find a couple gifts?
I can sit in the office and work on some of my designs or classwork if I’m done with everything else.
Lily: I'll be there at 9.
Ethan: Good girl.
The words hit me like a physical touch. My breath catches. Heat pools low in my belly. I’m instantly turned on. Who knew two little words could work that way?
Good girl.
He knows exactly what he's doing.
And God help me, I like it.
The next morning, I show up at Ethan's house with my laptop, my phone, and a determination to keep things professional. Purely professional. I won’t lust after my… what is he, exactly? My employer? I’m determined. Professional Lily the personal shopper.
That lasts approximately fifteen minutes.
"I need your opinion on something," I say, pulling up the florist's proposals on my laptop.
Ethan comes to stand behind my chair, leaning over to see the screen. He's close enough that I can smell his cologne and feel the warmth radiating from his body.
"What am I looking at?" he asks.
"Centerpieces. Option one is white roses with eucalyptus. Classic, elegant. Option two is white roses with gold accents. More modern. Option three is a mix of white roses, peonies, and greenery. Softer, more romantic." Of course, all three have white roses included, for his mother. I’d asked his sister’s favorite flower, and he’d told me she liked them all.
It wasn’t a helpful statement. But, I understood. I also don’t have a favorite flower.
His hand comes to rest on the back of my chair. Not touching me, but close enough that I'm hyper-aware of his presence.
"Which one do you like?" he asks.
"I asked you first."
"Lily." His voice drops. "I trust your judgment. Pick the one that feels right."
"Option three," I say immediately.
"Then that's what we'll do."
"You didn't even look at them closely."
"I don't need to. You know what you're doing."
I twist in my chair to look up at him. Big mistake. From this angle, I can see the flecks of gold in his gray-blue eyes. The faint lines at the corners that deepen when he smiles.
"You have a lot of faith in me," I say quietly.
"You've earned it."
"I've known you for three days."
"Sometimes three days is enough." His gaze drops to my mouth, then back to my eyes. "Sometimes, you just know."
The air between us crackles with tension.
I should look away. Create distance. Remember that this is a professional relationship.
Instead, I hear myself ask, "Know what?"
"That someone matters. That they're worth the risk."
My pulse is thundering in my ears. "Am I a risk?"
"If you are, then you are the best kind."
We're staring at each other, and I'm drowning in those eyes, in the possibility of what could happen if I just leaned forward, if I closed the distance between us. I’m contemplating making that first move, seeing what it feels like to kiss him and trying to get up enough courage to do it, when Ethan's phone rings, shattering the moment.
He steps back, running a hand through his hair as he answers. "Dr. Cross."
I try to focus on the florist proposals, but my hands are shaking.
What was that?
What is this?
Ethan finishes his call and turns back to me. "Sorry. Work emergency."
"Everything okay?"
"One of my patients is having complications and needs to go back into surgery. I need to go to the hospital."
"Of course. Go."
He hesitates. "Will you be okay here? Don’t feel like you have to leave, I’m totally fine with you being here alone. You can stay, work, and make yourself at home."
"Ethan, go. Your patient needs you."
Something flashes across his face. Pride, maybe. Or appreciation.
"Thank you." He grabs his keys. "I'll text you when I know more."