Lit Up by My Second Chance (Lit Creek #3)

Chapter 1

Aurora

I already know it’s going to be one of those terrible days. Horrible. Not good at all. Just plain bad. And I can’t do a darn thing about it.

Except mint chocolate fudge. I definitely grabbed some of that on my way to work. And yes, thank you for supporting me in my guilty pleasures, I did grab a mint chocolate mocha as well. That sounds like a decent counterattack to the start of this terrible day.

Juggling my goodies into one hand, I tug my toque down over my ears. Yes, it’s the middle of summer in Lit Creek. In the foothills of the Canadian Rocky Mountains. Where the sun is shining brightly. Yes, I’m wearing a toque, but I just really don’t have the heart to explain that right now. Give me some time. It’s only been less than twenty hours since the…accident.

I shudder. It’s hard to think about what happened last night with my body freezing up and my mind replaying the terror. They apologized profusely about the mix up. The changeover in the middle of the shift caused the confusion and subsequent accident. But all the apologies in the world can’t change it. For now.

I’m really hoping Tucker doesn’t comment on the toque. I’m finally taking him up on his offer to dress casually, which I never do. Have never done in my life. And in all my years as his executive assistant, I have never once dressed in less than my professional best.

I’m a teensiest bit of a perfectionist. I can say it. Some might say I’m a whole lot of a perfectionist, but they’re definitely going overboard. And by that, I mean, I’m tossing them out. Because they’re wrong. Besides, some amount of perfectionism is required for my job. But I’m not really thinking of my job right now. Because, well…the toque.

Alas—deep sigh, I can do this—I am here dressed in…a loose t-shirt and leggings. I can’t believe I just said that I’m wearing a t-shirt and leggings to work, but I couldn’t very well wear a toque with dress pants or a skirt, could I? And I have to wear the toque. It’s my lifeline to order. And it’s literally saving my sanity right now.

I shuffle into our office on the main street of Lit Creek. It’s usually just us two, and sometimes he doesn’t even come in. I mean, I still don’t get it. He’s in a different league, but more days than not, Tucker Anderson—billionaire, business mogul, built like a Greek god—likes to remind himself of his roots and work from his quaint little hometown. I wasn’t sure how long I was going to last with him because when I started he was a bit of an asshole. The hours he expected. The requests he made. But when I pushed back and set up some boundaries it was like he respected me more. That’s the thing with Tucker, you have to show no fear. Be confident. Even if you don’t feel it.

Not gonna lie. I love it. I’m surrounded by my besties, my favorite food, and all the quietness of living between the mountains and the country, yet I have all the luxuries afforded to working for a billionaire. One day I’d love to travel. Maybe help Tucker with one of his international endeavors, but for now I’m happy working for him wherever he is. Uh…and let’s not delve too deeply into the last part about wherever he is. I’m not saying I’d follow him to the ends of the earth or anything. I’m not saying I wouldn’t…but…so not the point I’m trying to make.

Travel sounds feasible and quite nice because did I mention he’s a billionaire? A freaking billionaire living in Lit Creek. But apparently there’s something in the town air that has attracted a few billionaires. And I’m the lucky friend of his sister, Georgie, so I got the job of working with Tucker a few years ago.

Ya, I mean, it took more than that connection. I have experience. Not that I want to relive the past. But I will say that the past was a stepping stone. For now, let’s just say that I learned the hard way not to date my boss. No matter what.

No matter how good looking he is. So yes, I have to remind myself of that hard line in the sand several times a week. And if he’s wearing something extra special, like a tight shirt—whew!—I have to remind myself a few times a day. Usually on those days I take an extra long lunch. Just saying.

Also just saying, lunch can’t come fast enough today. But before lunch, I actually have to get started.

I’ve got my hands full and my head down hoping to make my way to my desk and just start work when—

BAM!

Shit. There goes my mint mocha. No! Not the fudge, too.

“Ahhh!” That was the unmistakable growl-scream of Tucker.

And without the passing of a second, like the well-oiled machine we are, we immediately start working on the problem in front of us, also known as the hot liquid that soaked the front of his entire body.

He’s peeling off his shirt and I’m unbuckling his belt and whipping down his pants. I don’t want him to get burned. And even in crisis he has the wherewithal to lift one leg at a time so I can strip him of his shoes and socks—for God only knows what reason do I remove those last two items.

And it’s when I take the second sock off that I realize if I look up I’ll see him in his naked glory, standing right in front of me. So of course I keep my head down.

I hear him wad up his shirt and toss it to the floor. He’s grumbling something, but I can’t understand the words.

“What the hell just happened?” Yup. I heard those words.

Head down, I stammer—which I never do, “I just spilled my drink on you. Sorry. It’s been a day.”

“It’s not even nine yet.”

“I know.”

“Aurora?”

“Mhmmm?”

“Why are you wearing a toque?”

Okay really, of all the questions, that’s the one he’s going with right now? For Pete’s sake, he’s standing in his black briefs while I’m on my knees in front of him, but ya, let’s ask about the toque.

“Um…it’s nothing. It’s casual.”

“You don’t do casual.”

And then, oh my God, he does the one thing that every little girl hates when a little boy does to her on the playground, he tugs off my toque.

For the love of all the mint chocolate fudge in the world, why did he do that? But I don’t move. If I don’t move, maybe he won’t notice it.

Okay, that’s lunacy because well—

“It’s pink.”

And then I do the one thing that most people do when they’re exasperated beyond belief. I bang my head on the wall in front of me. Only it’s not a wall. And don’t think twice about it until I’ve banged my forehead against his dick three times. Yup. That’s where I’m at today. Three full times I’ve banged my forehead against his dick. There’s no other way to say it.

“I know they say to knock on wood to ward off bad luck, but I’m not sure that this is what they had in mind. I’d love to ask them though.”

Apparently there is another way to say it. It’s not any better. If anyone finds out about any of this, I’m definitely a candidate for the Johnny Board. I don’t need that level of embarrassment.

Yup. Exactly what I said, right? Best day ever.