Chapter 18
Charlotte
Tip #18: If your coworkers are rooting for your romance, accept that you’ve already lost the battle for professional boundaries.
I smoothed down my crisp black slacks, tugging at invisible wrinkles as I gave myself a final once-over in the hallway mirror. Perfection was key since I directly reflected on Isaac, even if I was counting down the days until I was off on vacation.
“So,” Ella drawled from her perch on the couch, “now that you’ve been on two official dates with the boss man, is work all weird and awkward?” She sipped coffee from a blue mug emblazoned with the Warner Print logo—a company gift from when I’d first started working there.
I adjusted the collar of my royal blue blouse as I joined Ella in the living room—I still had a few minutes before I needed to leave for work. “Isaac and I are professionals. We’re not going to start making out in the supply closet or anything ridiculous like that.”
“Aha!” Ella pounced, her eyes lighting up. “Since you implied you are professionals and that you won’t fall to making out at work, can I take that to mean you have romantic feelings for him?”
“What? No.” I inwardly cursed my slipup—I should have just said there was no reason for any awkwardness. “That’s not what I meant at all.”
Ella took an obnoxiously loud slurp of coffee, fixing me with a disbelieving stare. The guppies in her five overcrowded fish tanks seemed to join in behind her, their beady little eyes judging me.
I sighed, knowing I’d regret saying this to my nosy best friend even as the words left my mouth. “I have already admitted Isaac is incredibly attractive. If he weren’t such a workaholic, he’d probably be the ideal husband, much less boyfriend. But that doesn’t mean I have romantic feelings for him.”
Ella let out a triumphant hoot that startled the fish. “I knew it! You totally have the hots for him!”
“Did you miss the part where I said I don’t have romantic feelings?” I asked dryly. “I’m quitting Warner Print to have a life outside of work. Isaac couldn’t even make it through our second date without taking a business call. That’s not exactly promising boyfriend material.”
“True.” Ella’s gaze drifted to the nearest of her fish farms. She tapped a finger against her mug, brow furrowed in thought. “But you could still have feelings for him and choose not to act on them because of his messed-up priorities.”
I shook my head firmly. “I’m not giving myself the luxury of even pondering if I have feelings for him. Letting anything develop now would only lead to hurt feelings, and I’m not about to let that happen when I’ve worked so hard to retain my professionalism for so many years. Trust me, my heart is guarded against Isaac Warner.”
Ella’s eyes narrowed, a mischievous glint in them that made me instantly wary. “Oh really? You’re so sure you’ve kept romantic feelings at bay?” She leaned forward, her coffee sloshing dangerously close to the rim of her mug. “Then explain to me, why did you say yes to a second date?”
I opened my mouth to retort, but the words died on my tongue.
She had a point.
If I were truly avoiding romantic entanglements with Isaac, I should have declined that second date. The cold realization washed over me, leaving me feeling exposed and unsettled.
Ella caught my hesitation and lifted her mug to her lips with an infuriatingly smug grin. She took another long, deliberate sip.
I frowned. “If you’re so smart, why do you need to buy another fish tank this weekend for your ever-growing guppy farm?” I gestured at the living room, which was starting to resemble an aquarium that specialized in a single type of fish.
“Hey!” Ella objected, going so far as to put her mug on the coffee table. “Leave my guppies out of it. It’s not their fault your boss is a dreamboat.”
I grimaced. “I don’t know which is more painful, the fact that you’re trying to convince me I’ve got feelings for Isaac or your use of the very dated term dreamboat .”
“ Dreamboat is not dated!”
“It makes you sound like my aunt trying to relate to her college-aged daughters about a singer in a band,” I said.
The shrill ring of my cell phone cut through our banter. I glanced at the caller ID and blinked in surprise. It was Isaac.
“Good morning, Isaac,” I answered. “Is something wrong?”
“Good morning, Charlotte.” His deep voice rumbled through the speaker, rich with an undercurrent of warmth that caught me off guard. “No, nothing is wrong; it’s just a pleasure to hear your voice. I’ve missed you.”
I slightly hunched my shoulders, thrown on the defense by the open affection in his tone. “You missed me? Isaac, you saw me at work yesterday.”
He chuckled, the sound sending an involuntary shiver down my spine. “True, but seeing you at work isn’t enough. Have you left for the office yet?”
“No, I’m still at home. Why?”
“Excellent. I’m on my way to your house right now.”
I nearly dropped the phone. “You’re what? Why are you coming here?”
Ella started to cackle, then turned it into a cough when I scowled at her. Even though she was only hearing half of the conversation, she must have caught on to what was happening as she started waggling her eyebrows suggestively.
I shook my head at her, then turned so my back faced her.
Isaac’s voice softened. “I realized we don’t have many days left before you leave for your vacation. I want to maximize our time together.”
“Oh.” I breathed, a warm, fuzzy feeling blossoming in my gut at his thoughtfulness. It was so unlike the efficient, work-focused Isaac I knew. This softer, more considerate side of him wasdangerous. Dangerous to me, anyway. “OK. I’ll see you shortly then.”
As I hung up the phone, I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that despite my best efforts, Isaac was managing to chip away at my resolve.
I scrambled to get ready, shrugging on my trench coat and snatching up my purse.
Ella, reclaiming her Warner Print mug, couldn’t resist one last jab. “So, the boyfriend’s picking you up, huh?”
I peered in my purse, running down the mental list of everything I needed. “Isaac is my boss and a close friend.”
“But he is coming to get you,” Ella said. “I’d buy the friend explanation if you two were leaving for a conference or something, but you’re going to work together. That’s an office couple goal.”
I frowned. “You need to talk to your husband more. You are positively starved for romance.”
Ella leaned forward, her eyes twinkling. “Don’t worry. I’m keeping Nate all up to date on your little office romance. It’s way more interesting than my own work stories. So, tell me, are you feeling those fluttery little love butterflies in your gut yet?”
I glanced out the window, spotting Isaac’s sleek black Audi pulling up to the curb.
It was unusual that he’d come pick me up, but I’d never admit that to Ella when she was being so smug.
I knew she was just teasing me—even her cackles over my supposed feelings for Isaac. Unfortunately, she was a lot closer to the truth than I wanted to admit. Isaac certainly wasn’t holding back on his attempts to win me over, and I was relying on my life goals to keep me from getting sucked in when, logically, he was a fantastic date.
“My gut is a desert wasteland.” I straightened my shoulders, preparing for more mental warfare. “Nothing survives there, least of all butterflies of romance.”
Ella cackled. “You say that now, but by the time the workday is over, perhaps the wasteland will be transformed into a butterfly house!”
I shook my head at her and slipped out the front door before my outrageous housemate could say anything else unhinged.
The damp morning air was a little cold, but the sky was a watercolor painting of orange and pink, the kind of sunrise that makes you forgive the ungodly hour. Dew glistened on the lawn, and as I walked toward Isaac’s car, a grim thought hit me.
Maybe Ella was right, just not in the way she thought. I didn’t feel fluttery around Isaac because I’d known him so long. Any potential for the typical bubbly giddiness had slipped away with our long familiarity and been replaced with a slow burn.
I opened the Audi’s passenger door and slid in.
The warmth of the leather seats was a welcome contrast to the chilly morning. Isaac greeted me with a smile—an actual, genuine smile.
I inhaled, intending to say hello, but as I buckled my seat belt, he leaned in close. Too close. I could feel his breath on my cheek, warm and tinged with the scent of his cologne.
“Is this OK?” he asked, his voice a low murmur.
And here’s the evidence of my newfound realization.
There was no fluttery feeling—nothing so delicate and light as that. No, Isaac’s closeness was like lightning without a thunderstorm, frying every nerve in my body.
He kissed my cheek, slowly, like he was savoring the moment. The warmth of his lips seeped into my skin, sending an electric shock through my body. Isaac never did anything slowly—he was too efficient for that. The fact that he was taking his time meant something. It meant he was luxuriating in it, in me.
He pulled back. “It’s a shame we have to go into the office,” he murmured, then kissed me again, this time on the neck. A shiver ran down my spine.
Before I could say anything, Isaac leaned back in his seat and shifted the car out of park. He drove down the road of my quiet neighborhood, the morning stillness occasionally broken by a barking dog or the hum of an early riser’s lawn mower.
“I got your guilty pleasure,” Isaac said, eyes on the road.
“What are you talking about?”
He tapped a clear, plastic to-go cup settled in the cup holder of the console between us. It looked like iced coffee with purple-hued whipped cream. I saw the Literum logo on the cup and sat up straight.
“Is that?—?”
Isaac chuckled. “Lavender cream cold brew. Literum just started selling them again yesterday.”
I lifted the cup out of the consul cupholder and hurriedly ripped open the paper straw that had been jammed next to it.
I sipped, and it was like drinking a lavender cloud: smooth and sweet with just enough coffee bite to keep it grounded.
It was heaven in a cup.
“Thanks.” My eyes slid shut. “I’m impressed you remembered I like this drink—Literum only offers it once a year.”
Isaac tapped the steering wheel. “They’re the only thing I’ve ever seen you go crazy for. I believe you’d commit acts of violence to get one.”
“You’re not wrong,” I said. “But I wouldn’t have to if they’d offer it for the entire season. It’s practically a crime that they only stock enough ingredients to make it for about three weeks every spring.”
“It’s brilliant marketing,” Isaac said. “It manufactures the scarcity effect.”
“Maybe, but couldn’t they manufacture scarcity by offering it twice a year?” I sighed.
We neared the traffic light that marked the start of Fox Creek’s industrial district. The Warner Print campus was only a few minutes away now.
Isaac took the stoplight-granted pause to study me, his gaze lingering, heavy with something I didn’t want to acknowledge. Affection? Something beyond that? The look made me feel exposed, like he could see straight into my conflicted heart and tell how hard it was to resist him.
Even now, recognizing that in his eyes, something caught in my throat. It took a full two seconds for my survival instincts to jump in and remind me it wouldn’t work between us. Even if we did have chemistry.
I took a big swig of my drink to distract myself from Isaac’s eyes, his lips, his… himness.
“There’s a little cream on?—”
“Where?” I reached into my purse, intending to use my phone’s camera to check.
Isaac leaned over again—my heart was going to start exploding every time he did that if he kept this up. The pad of his thumb was warm as he scraped it along my bottom lip, then lifted it to show me the dab of purple whipped cream left there.
“Oh, thanks,” I said.
A smile warmed his eyes. “My pleasure.” The light changed, and Isaac switched his focus back to driving, but not before he casually licked the cream off his thumb.
I stared at him, my mind a chaotic mess of thoughts and feelings. That had been… more than just a friendly gesture.
My skin prickled with the ghost of his touch, my heart pounding in a confused, traitorous rhythm.
“Was that too much?” Isaac asked. Apparently that deep gaze of his let him sense my turmoil.
“No,” I said cautiously. “I just didn’t know you were capable of or interested in displaying….” I trailed off, unsure how to finish.
“Romantic gestures?” Isaac supplied, amused. “Charlotte, I want to date you. That would involve a lot more moments like that. Closer, more appealing moments.” He glanced at me. This time his brief look was focused on my lips.
I bit the inside of my cheek in an effort not to speak—given how this morning was going, I couldn’t trust myself not to dig an even deeper hole than I already had.
The car approached the Warner Print campus, and I compulsively clung to my drink, putting all my focus on it until Isaac parked in the underground lot at the center of campus.
The car’s engine echoed off the concrete walls until its contented purr quieted altogether when Isaac turned the Audi off.
We got out, and I took another sip of my cold brew, letting the lavender linger on my tongue.
I pointed myself in the direction of the parking garage elevator and started walking toward it. “Thanks for the ride.”
“Of course.” Isaac made his stride slower than usual so he matched my pace. “Let me know when you want to go home, and I’ll drive you.”
I shook my head, making my ponytail swing back and forth. “I can ask someone from the team for a ride if it’s too disruptive. Arisa doesn’t live far from me.”
“It’ll work out tonight. I should be done early.” Isaac narrowed his eyes. “Later this week will be a different story, though. I’ll finally have the files I need to go through before the board meeting.”
I winced, instantly recognizing what that meant. “A long night of overtime, then?”
“Yes.”
We reached the elevator, and before either of us could press a button, the doors slid open. Out stepped Miguel, Samuel’s executive assistant, and Ethel Oppers, one of the creative directors.
Ethel was an elegant woman in her mid-fifties with the kind of poise that made you stand up straighter just by her presence.
“Good morning,” Ethel said warmly, her tone like a soft blanket on a cold day.
Isaac gave her a curt nod, the kind he reserved for people he respected but didn’t want to engage in small talk with.
Miguel’s sly smile was a different story. “Isaac, Charlotte.” Smugness almost visibly radiated off him.
Samuel must have told him about Isaac’s romantic ambitions.
“Hello Ethel, Miguel,” I cautiously said.
“Are you two coming in to work together after a breakfast date?” Miguel’s voice dripped with faux innocence.
My eyes threatened to bulge, but I’d had enough practice as a professional that I held it in; only a single, momentary eye twitch escaped.
Isaac, of course, didn’t flinch.
“ Miguel ,” Ethel said, seemingly scandalized. She looked ready to swat the man on the nose with a rolled-up newspaper.
Isaac interceded. “I wish it was a breakfast date, but no. I just picked up Charlotte with a bribe of coffee in an effort to spend more time with her.”
“Breakfast date?” Ethel repeated, her voice catching in her throat.
“Yes, breakfast date,” Miguel said, doubling down. “Isaac is trying to convince Charlotte to date him. Keep up, Ethel.”
This was just perfect. Now the gossip wouldn’t be limited to the finance department, now spreading to the design department as well.
“Miguel,” I said with more calmness than I felt. “Why?”
“Because I’m rooting for Isaac,” Miguel said.
“Thank you,” Isaac said with all sincerity.
“You’re welcome,” Miguel said with equal sincerity.
I held my hand up in an attempt to belay whatever alliance they were striking. “You’re on Isaac’s side? Why? We’re cohorts. If you’re going to pick a side, it should be mine.”
“I’ve chosen Isaac because, frankly, I’m not sure there’s another woman on the planet he’d ever be satisfied with,” Miguel said. “And also because I’ve run out of entertainment since Samuel finally bagged Natalie.”
“That seems like a breach of trust,” I said.
Isaac shrugged. “I’ll uphold it.”
I eyed him. “This doesn’t involve you, Isaac. Stay out of it.”
“Breakfast date,” Ethel repeated one last time. This time the wrinkles around her eyes were creased with thoughtfulness. “I’ll have to tell Nevada that she called it.”
I massaged my forehead. “This company has several thousand employees. How are Isaac and I the subject of so much speculation?”
“I could put an announcement in the company’s monthly newsletter if you like,” Isaac said.
“No, thank you.” I gritted my teeth and slipped through the elevator’s still open doors. “I’ll be going, as we have work to do. Have a great day, Ethel. I’ll see you up in the office, Isaac.”
Isaac smirked at me as he tucked his hands into his pockets—I’d be hearing about this later, that was for sure.
Miguel smoothed his goatee. “No farewell for me?” he asked as the doors dinged, announcing they were closing.
“No,” I said. “I don’t exchange niceties with traitors.”
Miguel laughed, and the doors shut.
I had roughly two weeks left.
That was all, then I’d be home free.
The sad thing was, I couldn’t tell anymore if I was thrilled by the knowledge or filled with dread.