Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
A urora
“Grab a seat,” Dan says, pulling out a chair at one end of the table. “Mr. Brewer will be with us in just a second.”
Mr. Brewer? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
Tally takes a seat beside me in the middle of the long table. Two of our coworkers, Jackson and Derek, take their seats across from us, absorbed in a conversation about hockey stats. Even if I wanted to pay attention to their back-and-forth right now, I couldn’t.
There’s no way. Every brain cell I have is being used.
I force a swallow, ignoring Tally’s curious look. I can’t explain to her right now that Mr. Brewer is none other than Tate Brewer—the Tate that thinks I’m Kelly Kapowski. That of all the days for him to make his first appearance in the Raptors offices and introduce himself, he chose today.
How is this possible? How is this my life right now? I tried one time to have a good time and do what other women do, and this is what I get.
I get fucked every which way, no pun intended.
“Hey, are you okay?” Tally whispers.
My smile feels about as real as this situation does. I shake my head slowly from side to side.
Her face drops. “What’s wrong?”
She’s rightfully confused because just a little while ago, I was as light as a feather. My smile was genuine, and my outlook on life positive. I was floating on a cloud built of memories of mind-blowing orgasms.
Too bad I didn’t know that the giver of said orgasms would be sitting next to me, wondering why everyone is calling me Aurora. Knowing that would’ve dampened my spirits a bit.
“Aurora?” she whispers, prompting me to answer her question.
“Later,” I say softly.
My eyes are glued to the double doors leading to the hallway. Heat stings my cheeks, and I place my hands on my lap so no one can see them shaking.
I have no idea what Tate is thinking. I only know the look in his eye just a moment ago wasn’t precisely the bedroom eyes I saw this weekend. Moreover, I’m unsure how I feel about all of this. Why can’t I have a pause life button to give me a minute to get my thoughts together?
The doors swing open with a flourish, and I jump in my seat. Tally gives me a curious look before trailing my gaze to the man walking into the room like he owns the place.
Because, apparently, he does.
What the fuck?
“I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” Tate says, looking like a snack in dark pants and a green button-up shirt. It’s the same emerald color of his eyes just before he comes.
Now isn’t the time to be thinking about that, Aurora.
I shift in my seat, willing the knot in my stomach to ease.
Air struggles to fill my lungs as Tate’s gaze lands roughly on me. It’s heavy. It’s intentional. And it’s chock-full of questions.
But as I squirm in my seat, feeling guilty as hell about lying to him about my name, and worried he’ll think I tried to pull a fast one over on him by screwing the owner of the company, I realize something: I have questions, too.
I level my gaze with his, only to receive a barely lifted brow in return.
“That’s not a problem,” Dan says, rocking back in his chair as Tate sits to my right.
I take a deep breath, searching for the notes of his cologne that I’ve longed for all weekend. He leans forward to place his coffee and a notepad on the table. It’s enough movement to fill my senses with amber and vanilla.
Lord, help me.
“Do you want to take the lead on this, or do you want me to explain why we’re here?” Dan asks Tate.
“Why don’t you do the honors?” Tate asks, his gaze sliding back to me.
“Excellent,” Dan says. “Team, as most of you have probably heard by now, Charlie McCabe has taken a leave of absence. There was a family emergency on the West Coast. We hope to have him back once things are situated, but right now, it’s up in the air.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Jackson says.
“Where does that leave us in the rebrand?” Derek asks.
“We’re charging full steam ahead,” Dan says.
Jackson glances at me. “The visual deck just came in from the art department for the logo, colors, and mascot.”
“Charlie saw those come in before he left and made notes. They’re on my desk. I’ll send those to you as soon as we finish here,” I say.
“Great,” Jackson says.
“Do you happen to know when we can expect a final report from Good Day?” Derek asks. “We’ve been waiting on the market research for a week now, and Charlie said we should have it today.”
Tally nods. “Yes. There’s been a slight delay. I checked with Good Day’s project manager this morning. The data has all come in, but it’s still being analyzed. They amended the delivery date to Friday.”
I look at Tate out of the corner of my eye. He’s listening intently, as if this information fascinates him.
“I’m sorry,” Tate says, the corner of his lip twitching. “I missed your name.”
I bite my tongue. “Aurora Johnson.”
“ Aurora Johnson .” He says my name slowly, as if tasting it on his tongue. “You seem to have a solid grasp on what’s happening here. What is it you do, exactly?”
“Mr. McCabe hired me to assist in the rebranding of the Raptors, specifically community engagement. While Derek and his team are working on more robust marketing strategies for the community at large, I’m focusing primarily on the fan experience.”
“I’m a big believer in creating a memorable experience,” Tate says, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
I steady myself, refusing to participate in whatever experience he’s striving for now.
“How do we convert an average hockey fan into a Raptors superfan?” I ask. “How can we turn the gameday experience into something special? How can we go into the community and build strong ties with our neighbors so they see us not as a money-grabbing sports franchise but a valuable tool that cares about the community?” I smile at him. “These are the questions I’m asking and hoping to answer.”
“Don’t let Aurora fool you,” Dan says, beaming at me. “She’s doing much more than that. She’s also rebuilding our … what do you call it? Spirit team?”
I nod. “We’re leaning toward The Talon Team but haven’t finalized that decision.”
“Aurora is also McCabe’s unofficial assistant,” Dan says, looking at Tate. “This woman is a sponge. She soaks up everything you give her.”
Tate fights a grin. “That’s great to know.”
I struggle not to roll my eyes.
“Who’s the point of contact now?” Derek asks.
“We’re working on that,” Dan says. “McCabe’s departure blindsided us, but we’ll have an interim marketing director in place as soon as possible. Until then?—”
“Actually, Dan,” Tate says. “We’ve already found someone.”
I don’t know if it’s how he says it, if the words are directed at me, or if I’m sensing the bomb that’s dropping from the sky with a target on my lap, but for some reason, I brace myself.
“Really?” Dan asks, surprised.
Tate sits up. “I was just talking to Gannon, and we agreed that I’ll be taking over McCabe’s position for the time being.”
No, he didn’t. “You can’t do that,” I say before I can think it through.
All heads whip my way.
Tate smirks, lifting a brow. “And why not?”
“Aurora,” Dan says, giving me a look that silently chastises me. “Mr. Brewer’s family owns the Raptors. He can do whatever he wants.”
I paste on a smile. “I’m sure he can. But I’m also certain that he has bigger problems than the marketing department we already have handled. I flew home Saturday afternoon and spent the entire evening with Charlie, as well as part of Sunday, taking notes.”
“That’s fantastic, Aurora ,” Tate says, making a point to say my first name. “You and I should sit down together so you can share all of that with me.” He feathers his thumb over his kissable lips. “I have so many questions for you.”
I bet you do. But guess what, buddy? So do I.
“Does anyone have anything to add?” Dan asks, pausing for us to jump in. When no one does, he shoves away from the table. “Very well. If that’s it, then I guess all that’s left to do is to welcome Tate to the team.”
My stomach bottoms out.
Tally turns to me, her eyes as big as saucers.
Yup, Tally. That’s Tate.
“Aurora,” she says, gasping. “Is that …?”
“That would be him,” I say softly as everyone stands and shakes Tate’s hand.
“Oh my God.”
I round the opposite end of the table in hopes I can avoid Tate. Before I can get to the door, Tate’s voice rises above the footsteps of my coworkers leaving the room.
“Aurora, if you could stay back, I would appreciate it,” he says.
Fuck. “Of course.”
My stomach flutters, and I can’t decide if it’s from dread or excitement.
I focus on keeping my breath steady as the room clears. As each body leaves, the space is filled with tension so thick it could be cut with a knife. The walls get closer. The temperature skyrockets.
Finally, we’re alone.
As my gaze finds Tate’s, all I can think about are the things we did this weekend.
The feel of his tongue between my legs. The taste of his cum on my tongue. The way his hands grabbed my hips as he held me in place and pounded into me at the perfect pace.
I want to do them again. Now.
“So Aurora, was it?” he asks, leaning against the table.
I cross my arms over my chest, struggling to erase the vivid imagery lingering in my mind. “Mr. Brewer , was it?”
“Don’t come at me with that.”
“Why not?” I ask. “It’s not like you were being completely truthful with me, either.”
“Omitting my last name is much different from lying about who I am.”
“Is it, though? Because if you had told me that you were Tate Brewer , it might’ve set off a few alarms in my brain.”
“Or you could’ve just told me you were Aurora Johnson and not some cheerleader from a cartoon.”
“Would that have mattered? Would my name have meant anything to you? Do you sign every paycheck of every person who works under the Brewer umbrella of companies, and would’ve been able to pick out mine?”
He glares at me with a hint of amusement ghosting his lips.
“That’s what I thought.” I shrug. “This really is on you when you think about it.”
The greens overtake the blues in his eyes. “There has been a lot on me in the past few days when it comes to you, most of it wet and sticky, and I don’t feel guilty about any of it.”
Damn.
I grab the edge of the table behind me so I don’t dissolve into the floor.
“What are you thinking right now?” he asks, adjusting his tie.
I wonder if he’s doing it to keep his hands busy so he doesn’t reach for me. I hold the table tighter so I don’t reach for him.
“What am I thinking?” I ask. “I’m thinking that this is the craziest coincidence on the face of the planet.”
“I don’t believe in coincidences.”
“I do.” I release the table and move around the room to dispel some of the energy zipping through my veins. “How else do you explain that the first time I choose to sleep with a random guy, he turns out to be my boss?”
He shrugs. “I think some people use the word fate or kismet , but feel free to substitute whatever makes you happy. I’ve discovered that you typically prefer harder and deeper .”
I heave a breath. “Don’t.”
My heart pounds as I take in this delicious man whom I’ve not been able to stop thinking about for days.
It would be so easy to fall into his arms and let him ravage me again. The thought is almost too tempting to deny. My saving grace is our location—that our run-in happened at work, one job that I love and has given me so much meaning in this season of my life. It forces me to take a second. To breathe. To honestly consider what I’m doing.
With the moment of pause comes clarity through the haze of pheromones.
There was a reason I got up Saturday morning and left him asleep in his bed. And I can’t forget that now—especially now when my job could be affected by my decision, too.
“Tate, I love this job. It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
He cocks a brow as if he’s challenging my declaration. But I don’t react. I just move on.
“I had the best night with you,” I say. “And I’m sorry if leaving you in the morning without saying goodbye was disrespectful. I didn’t mean it that way.”
“It did hurt my feelings.”
I grin at the playful look on his face.
“Do you want to hash this out over dinner?” he asks. “That would really help me heal from the trauma of waking up alone.”
“No.”
“Why?”
I sigh. “I told you why. One-night stands don’t come with an encore, no matter how amazing the performance.”
“You thought it was amazing?” he asks, grinning from ear to ear.
This man. I shake my head.
“I had the best night of my life with Kelly.” He winks. “And I’d do just about anything to see her again.”
“Well, Kelly can’t see you again, even if she agrees that it was the best night of her life, too.”
“Why the hell not?” he asks.
I laugh softly. Has he ever been told no? “Because Kelly has a lot of baggage. Kelly is trying to avoid repeating harmful patterns in her life. Kelly is trying to grow—and keep her job.”
“Well, Tate with No Last Name would like to help her do all of those things.”
“Tate with No Last Name just sees her as a challenge.”
“That’s not true.”
He cuts the distance between us in half, close enough to be able to pull me to him.
Our proximity is infuriating. I’m pulled to him like a magnet, drawn to him like a rose to the sun. I crave the warmth his touch provides and feel myself leaning toward him to bask in his energy.
It would be so easy to give in. Yet I don’t.
“You sell yourself short,” he says, cupping the side of my face.
“How?”
“You think I’m interested in you because you’re a challenge? If I wanted a challenge, I’d play golf.”
I bite my lip to keep from giggling, but it’s futile.
“Golf is one of the few things I’m not great at,” he says, dropping his hand to his side. “I’d rather focus on putting my balls into other holes, if you know what I mean.”
My laughter slips through the conference room. The sound makes him grin.
I wish that being with him, even in this setting, didn’t feel so incredible. I’d give my right arm to be able to pull the fuse inside me that links his smile to my heartbeat so every time his lips tilt to the ceiling, my heart doesn’t flutter.
I take a step back. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“Did you take this job before or after you knew I worked here?”
“Does it matter?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“Then after,” he says with a simple shrug. “But, in my defense, my degree is in marketing, so it does make sense to take this on.”
That’s fair. And it is his company. “I want to keep working here, Tate.”
“You better. I just took a job in hockey to be near you. I hate hockey.”
I chuckle, both at his words and the look on his face. “But I need to know that what happened last weekend won’t get me fired.”
He steps back, observing me quietly, and I’m not sure how to take it. My body tenses as I consider that he might realize that it’ll never work with me here. Case in point: we can’t even have this conversation without sexual innuendos, and I’m 1000 percent sure that’s against company policy. And he can fire me without cause. I’m still technically in my probation period.
“By all accounts, you are the one holding this department together,” he says. “You were very impressive today.”
I give him a real, broad smile. It grows wider when he doesn’t lessen his praise by cheapening it with a nod to last weekend.
“If one of us needs to leave, it should be me,” he says. “And I will leave if my presence here bothers you. I’ll figure out a remedy because I refuse to make you feel uncomfortable, Aurora.”
My mouth goes dry. “Thank you.”
He glances at the floor for a moment, then lifts his gaze to mine. His eyes are clear, shining a bright blue, as he looks at me.
“I don’t understand why you’re trying to resist me,” he says cheekily. “But let’s put that aside for now.”
“Nothing can happen between us again.”
“I hear you.”
“I mean it,” I say, unflinching. “I’m the hero in my story. I have to save myself.”
“You have to save yourself from what?”
I shrug. “Myself. I’m a romantic at heart and have a habit of falling for the first man who crosses my path when I’m vulnerable. And traditionally speaking, the first man to cross my path isn’t the one for me.”
“That makes total sense.”
“Good.”
“It seems as though a few motherfuckers cut in line.”
My heart flutters despite my ferocious attempt at resisting him.
“But I do hear you,” he says, searching my eyes as if he’s trying to read me. “And I give you my word that not only is your job safe but you are also safe with me.”
“I’m not with you, Tate.”
He flashes me a sideways grin. “As your friend and boss, of course.”
We both know that’s not what he meant. We also know that I can argue with him until I’m blue in the face, and it won’t change anything.
He’s under my skin. Deep .
Goose bumps break out across my skin as a bout of anxiety hits me full-on. Tate was supposed to be my spicy little secret, a moment in time to bridge two eras of my life together. He wasn’t supposed to be a fixture in my life.
And he wasn’t supposed to make me feel anything but satisfied.
What did you really think would happen when you picked him to share the night with, Aurora, you fool?
Oof.
“Fine,” I say, picking up my things from the table. “We’re both adults. We’re capable of a working relationship.”
“Absolutely.”
“And on that note, I need to get back to my office,” I say, heading for the door. “I’ll email you this afternoon with a revised schedule for this week.”
I plant a hand on the door to push it open when Tate calls out.
“Aurora.”
My heart leaps in my chest as I stop pushing. “Yeah?”
“You could’ve left me half of the pie.”
I snort, shaking my head, and walk out.