Chapter 7
I should be at work right now.
I should be on the treadmill at the Epic Elevate gym, getting my run in while dictating notes about the upcoming podcast on my phone.
I think of ideas when I run. Good ideas. Ideas about my business, how to entertain my fans, how to market my videos and my clothing brand.
Instead, however, I am in bed.
With a pillow over my head.
I roll to the side, hoping the layers of goose down will drown out the barking. Nope. It didn’t work at three a.m. when this ruckus started, and it’s still not working now.
I groan and flop to the other side.
Then, the infernal, relentless, monotonous sound of Zoey’s barking stops.
Silence—beautiful silence—greets my ears.
“Thank you,” I murmur sleepily.
There is no one to hear me. My big bed is empty, and that is fine with me. When I remove my makeshift earmuffs, I spot the alarm clock perched on my bedside table.
It is now 6:00 in the morning. Gwen must be here.
Gwen…
I thought about her last night.
More than necessary, given that she’s nothing but my temporary executive assistant. I thought about how it was oddly charming to see her sitting with such familiarity in my entryway. She looked comfortable there on the floor, as though she was in a friend’s home.
I liked the way her auburn hair fell across her face and how she joked with Mr. Brown so sweetly.
I even liked hearing her rattle off those random facts about clogs made of willow wood.
And how nice her laugh was when it escaped her lips. It was a real laugh. Genuine. It lit up her face and her eyes.
Those eyes…
I can still see them when I close mine. The perfect shade of blue-green. I saw them up close when I handed her the house key.
An unexpected jolt of attraction passes through me now. I keep my eyes closed and try to remember how it felt to reach for her hand.
It felt good to touch her, feel the warmth of her hand in my palm.
Unexpectedly good.
Why did it feel that good?
I don’t know. I can’t figure it out. But something about connecting with her… it sent a rush through me. A rush I’ve never experienced in quite that way. My heart picked up pace. My skin felt tingly. My blood raced through my veins.
Right now, as I listen to the merciful silence, I wonder what she’s wearing today.
Another brown sweater?
Would I even mind if she was dressed in another sweater, just as hideous as the one she wore yesterday?
No, I would not mind.
Because no awful, drab, baggy sweater could hide her beauty. The fact is that my new assistant, Gwen Temple, is undeniably beautiful.
But… So what?
It doesn’t matter.
I don’t do anything except meaningless flings these days, and Gwen is hardly the right woman for that sort of arrangement. She works for me.
It doesn’t matter if her lips are perfectly formed and her voice is sweet and gentle. It doesn’t matter that I want to touch her hair to see if the waves are as soft as they look.
None of that matters.
What matters is that I am late for work.
I have to get up. Now.
I stumble to the master bathroom, scrubbing my hand over my face and groaning again as I go. I pride myself on staying fit and healthy, but right now, I feel old.
In three years, I’ll be forty…
Not that forty is old. Far, far from it. And yet, I’m not twenty anymore.
I can’t stay up all night listening to a dog bark and then feel spry in the morning. I can’t pull all-nighters like I once could.
The hot shower helps somewhat. The ache in my joints fades, and my mind starts to feel a little sharper. I get out, dry off, and pull on a pair of sweatpants.
I still can’t get the cobweb-like thoughts about Gwen out, though. But maybe they’ll clear away once I have some food. It’s tough to think straight on an empty stomach.
It’s a testament to my sleepy confusion that as I shuffle out of my bedroom and down the hallway, I still can’t stop thinking about her.
Do her socks match today?
Is she feeling cheerful or nervous and flustered? Will she flirt with me again, like she did last night?
The strange thing is, I want her to flirt with me. I want her to bat those pretty lashes and try to hide a smile. I want her to look at me like she’s thinking the wrong things—thoughts she shouldn’t have about me.
Why do I want all that? Nothing will ever happen with her. Nothing can.
I scrub my hand over my face again and groan.
Wake up, Brock.
Maybe this is all because I slept in an empty bed. An empty bed is as bad as an empty stomach when it comes to feeling deprived of needs. I need attention from women. Call it a weakness. I’ve indulged in meaningless, short-lived flings for years, and they satisfy me. I don’t need anything more. Definitely not a relationship. The mere thought of getting serious with a woman makes my skin crawl.
I married Mia. All those years ago…
I married her, and I hurt her.
Not intentionally, but still. It takes two to argue, and that’s what we were doing when I crashed that rental car.
She was in pain because of me.
We divorced.
Never again.
But these flings I’ve been having… one-night stands, quick vacations with women a few times a year, meet-ups in foreign countries… they’re wearing me down. They satisfy my needs, yes, temporarily. But the satisfaction is shallow and doesn’t last.
And my last date, that tedious, four-hour affair with Vanessa Von Kemp, was nothing but a frustrating bore.
It’s not until I’m about to step into the entryway that I realize where I walked. I had no intention of coming here when I left my bedroom. On the contrary, I had a vague plan of heading to my kitchen.
What is wrong with me?
It’s like all those pointless musings about Gwen carried me here. Right now, I can hear her. It sounds as though she’s somewhere over near the front door.
Her voice is hushed. “Can you try harder?” she begs.
Is she talking to the dogs?
No, I don’t think so. This isn’t the sweet baby talk I witnessed last night. Her tone sounds strained, too serious to be directed to the dogs.
“I can’t keep this up another full day,” she frets.
A few seconds of silence follows, then, “I can’t believe it… even with the extra ten thousand thrown in? That’s crazy, Lizzy. I would guess there would be people jumping all over the opportunity.”
Ah ha. So, she’s talking to Elizabeth Rixon—my head of Human Resources.
I’m about to redirect my sleepy, hungry body toward the kitchen when her words catch my attention.
“I’m not trying to; it’s just happening. I haven’t had a crush like this since I was in the first grade, and I got all giddy every time Frankie DeMarcico raced me to the swing set. And crushing on Brock is seriously not okay. I mean, I have to work for the guy, for goodness’ sake. How am I supposed to concentrate if I keep…” Her voice fades.
I freeze.
My perked ears strain to hear every word.
That’s not easy to do, given that I have significant hearing loss in my left ear thanks to the accident in Hawaii.
Again, I think of Mia. My ex-wife.
I don’t want to think about Mia right now.
“Yeah, he’s already at work,” Gwen says. “He told me last night that he goes in at five. I know. Crazy, right? Yeah… Lizzy, can I tell you something as a friend? Off the record? I thought about him way too much last night after I got home. And I keep coming back to how weird it was when he gave me the house key.”
Weird…
Does she mean good-weird or bad-weird?
I take a step closer. Though I do my best to listen, now her voice dips down in volume and I miss a few murmured sentences.
Darn my hearing loss.
I reach up and rub my temple. When my fingertips touch my scar, a brief, shudder-inducing memory of that car crash washes over me. These memories come and go. They feel like ghosts when they settle on me: cold, hair-raising, haunting.
I fight off the memory of the broken windshield, blood, and Mia’s screams and focus on Gwen’s murmurs.
Because I want, very much, to hear what she thought of that moment when we touched.
So, she thought about me last night, just as I was thinking about her.
That shouldn’t matter to me—because none of this is important, not really—but it does. It pleases me that I was on her mind.
She giggles. “I know, Lizzy. You think I don’t know that? But really, I’m telling you this as your friend. It is so early, the sun isn’t even up yet. This is not work-talk, you hear me? This is girl talk. So take off your HR hat already.”
She laughs again. “See? That’s better. Thank you. We’ve all thought it. But this isn’t just about how hot he is. This is more. I mean, I always knew he was gorgeous. Everyone knows that. But last night, I let myself feel things for him as a person.”
She felt things for me…
What kind of things?
A flash of heat courses through me. Now I’m feeling things for her.
Things I shouldn’t feel.
Yes, this is wrong. This is my employee I’m feeling magnetized to right now. And yes, she’s on the phone with my head of HR, of all people.
However, Gwen is right about how early it is. Sleep still clouds my mind. I recently rolled out of an empty bed. I am a hot-blooded man, and I cannot be expected to be in boss mode all the time.
Right now, I’m not Brock Benson, CEO of a multi-million dollar company. Right now, I’m simply a man.
And I’m thinking about Gwen’s body. Her smile. Her scent. I’m thinking about how good she would feel in my arms.
Inappropriate.
Highly inappropriate.
But that’s where I’m at. I can’t lie to myself about this desire.
Besides, what would be the point of denying my attraction?
These are just thoughts. They mean nothing.
I won’t act on them.
She’s giggling again. “Oh, I know. It’s all dumb. I’m not seriously into him. Are you kidding me? But really, the faster you can get someone new on board, the better. This crush thing is like an illness, and I’ve got to nip it in the bud. Keep me updated, ‘kay?”
There’s a rustling sound, then her tone changes to dog-directed cooing. “I know, Zoey, sweetie munchkin. You want that harness off.”
Long pause.
More rustling.
I take a third step forward, and now I can see her. She’s crouched by Zoey, working the harness buckles with her fingers.
The phone’s pinned between her ear and shoulder. She talks into it, oblivious to me. “My fingers are crossed you get someone today. Oh, and that soup was so good. Thank you again. I’ll bring the dish by your office when I get in.”
She’s wearing a dark green sweater, just as loose and baggy as yesterday’s. This one is cable-knit, with a bulky collar that hides her neck like a scarf. The layer is long and falls down over her thighs, nearly to her knees. Faded bell bottoms trail down over her clogs.
Her wavy hair is piled high on her head with a clip of some sort, and a few charming wisps fall loose around her face.
She hangs up the phone and then rubs Zoey’s sides. “My goodness, look at that wiggle bottom when you wag that pretty tail of yours. You sure are sweet.”
I don’t want to surprise her.
I’ve done that too many times.
Besides, it’s nice to stand here and watch her. I’ll wait for her to notice me.
She continues rubbing Zoey’s sides. When Mr. Brown totters over, she has to divide her pets between the two. She gently takes off his harness while speaking in the same soft, cooing tone to him the whole time. Her voice is so quiet now, I can’t make out the words.
When she turns to place the harness on a side table, she finally spots me. Her eyes get wide with surprise.
She gapes at me.
Her skin, already milky, turns more pale.
Since she’s apparently not eager to greet me, I fill in the quiet. “Morning, Gwen.”
“Brock… Er—sir—I mean. Mr. Benson.”
I chuckle. “It’s too early for this awkwardness. Really, Gwen. We’ve gone over this, and first names are fine. Nice chat with Elizabeth Rixon?”
I say it to see how she’ll react. It’s thrilling to know her secret feelings toward me. Thrilling in a way I don’t understand.
She hesitates and fidgets with the harness nearby, pushing some stray straps so they’re folded up. “Oh! Um… Ahhh… Yeah, yeah, good talk. You heard that?”
“Some of it.”
“Lizzy and I are good friends.”
“Sounds it.”
“How much did you hear?” She swivels her big eyes to face me, then immediately looks away. “I totally thought for sure this place was empty,” she adds in a rush.
“I slept in. My car’s out front. You didn’t see it?”
“I didn’t even look. It’s so dark out there.”
“Your powers of observation are not your strong suit.”
“Wearing a shirt is not your strong suit.”
“Hm?”
“A shirt…” She flicks her hand my way but keeps her eyes down.
“Oh.” I plant my palm on my chest and feel my bare skin. “Ah. Right. I just got out of the shower.”
Her face transforms—pink blossoms on both cheeks, replacing the pallor with a rush of color. “Is that… ah hem… Is that right? I thought—that thing. About. Sorry… words. Five o’clock.”
“Excuse me?”
“I just… Sorry. Hard to think straight.”
“Because I’m not in a shirt?”
She moves her hand, so now her fingers fiddle with a wooden toggle button on her sweater, rather than the dog harness. “I haven’t had coffee,” she blurts out.
“Ah. Okay.” I can’t help but smile. It’s wrong how much I enjoy seeing her adorable, flustered ways. “And coffee is king, I hear.”
“It’s also the office love language.”
I chuckle. “Interesting…”
She bites her lip. “It shouldn’t be that interesting. I’m not interesting. I think I’m babbling again. It’s early, and I haven’t quite woken up yet.”
When she pulls at the neck of her sweater, I feel the urge to do something—anything—to ease her anxiety. “I could put a pot of coffee on for us,” I offer.
“Er…” She glances at the door and then steps backward.
“Stay, Gwen.” It comes out gruffer than I intended. Like an order. I meant to invite her to stay, not bark out a command. Since she’s here in my house, and I’m here too, we may as well go over some work items.
And I’d like more time with her, one on one.
She fascinates me.
I’ve never met a woman so vulnerable. So sweet, genuine, and naive. How does she survive without a harder shell?
But I can see she didn’t like my tone of voice. And, I don’t blame her. I can be too demanding. Too blunt. It comes off rude.
Maybe she’s right, and the coffee can do the talking. “Roast rules the roost. Isn’t that what you said?”
Her expression softens. She lifts one side of her mouth. “Did I say that?”
“Something to that effect.”
“It sounds awfully poetic.”
“I’ve got Starbucks.”
She grins. “Now you’re talking.”
When I turn and start walking down the hallway, I hear her soft steps behind me. The dogs pad along with us, and soon, we’re all in my massive gourmet kitchen. Leena prepared coffee in advance, so all I have to do to get it started is press a button.
I stride to the fridge and pull it open. My premade chia-seed pudding, cashew butter, and berry parfaits line the top shelf.
When I pull two out, Gwen shakes her head. “Oh, no,” she murmurs. “Just a cup of coffee is fine, real quick. I couldn’t possibly…”
I put the parfait down on the granite counter, right near where she’s standing. “You’re going to sit and eat with me.”
She sits. “What is this?”
“Chia seed pudding.”
“I’ve never tried chia seeds.”
“No?” I set a spoon down in front of her, then grab two mugs for coffee. “They’re healthy. Tons of benefits. Let me guess. You usually forget to eat breakfast.”
She giggles. “How did you know?”
I turn a mug in my hands as I wait for the coffee to finish brewing. “Educated guess. Let me make another one. Since you’re flipping a house with your brother, I’m guessing you’re not married.”
She lifts her left hand and wriggles her fingers. “Nice try, Sherlock. I saw you look at my hand before you called me Miss Temple.”
“Caught me. I did a little visual research before taking that particularly educated guess. Okay, so, boyfriend?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Just curious.”
“It’s possible that my relationship status is irrelevant.”
I nod. “That is possible. It’s also possible that I’m an inquisitive person. Seeing as you’ve worked for me for six years, I’ve decided to try to get to know you. Is that wrong?”
“Why now?”
“Because. I already told you… I find you interesting.”
“And I told you, I’m not. I’m very uninteresting. That might be why you walked straight past my desk all those times.”
She said something like this last night, too.
I know my morning routine. I get to work at five. Run on the treadmill. Rendezvous with my Exec Assistant, whoever it is at the time, in the Epic Elevate gym while doing my cool down. I return calls, do a few quick sets in the weight room, and then head to my office so I can take the first coaching calls of the day. That takes me through the shipping department…
Past her desk.
I must have walked straight past her hundreds of times without even noticing. No—thousands of times.
It seems impossible.
What a fool I was.
“I’m making up for that now,” I tell her. “You gonna humor me, or make this difficult?”
As I pour piping hot brew into a mug, I feel her eyes on me.
When I turn to her, I raise my brows. “Hm? You got anything to say? You’re talkative sometimes, quiet others. Maybe that’s why you’re interesting, Gwen. You mystify me.”
That makes her laugh. “Believe me, I am not complex enough to be mysterious.”
“Don’t sell yourself short.”
“I do, all the time. Simple as that.”
“Well, you shouldn’t.”
I walk to her, put the mug down, and then stay a mere two feet away. She twists on the rotating bar stool so that she’s facing me.
Her eyes, wide and frightened before, have a new lightness to them. A new spark. “Okay, since we’re getting to know each other, you owe me an answer. How much did you hear of my conversation with Lizzy?”
“Whoa… hold up there. You haven’t even answered me yet about whether you have a boyfriend.”
“Take a guess.”
“Okay, I’m going to guess you’re not seeing anyone at the moment.” Since you chatted about your crush on me.
“Correct. And I’m going to do my best not to be offended that you presume I’m single. Now, my turn. How much did you overhear this morning? Come on… I need to know.”
“Enough,” I say with a smile.
Heat rolls through the space between us. The air tingles with energy. My sleepiness has faded, replaced by a soft, warm, happy buzz.
“You weren’t supposed to hear any of that,” she mock-argues. She’s not upset with me. Not really.
We’re flirting, and she likes it.
I can tell by the sparkle in her eye when she looks at me. The subtle curl of her lip. And, her body language. She’s facing me, still. Her crossed legs point to me like an arrow, filling the small gap between us so that my legs are mere inches from hers.
She wags her foot, and that clog of hers flaps. She’s in purple socks today, with small pink flowers printed on them. I reach out and tap her ankle. “Flowers. Is this some kind of passive-aggressive complaint because I made you throw yours out?”
“No. I just happen to love flowers. Also, not so fast, mister. Aren’t we talking about how much you heard?”
Her teasing tone lets me know she’s having fun.
I’m having fun, too. I stay close and meet her eyes. “And I told you. I heard enough.”
“Enough to what?”
“Enough to know.”
“To know what?” she asks with a mischievous, fleeting grin. Her eyelashes flutter. She peers at me, daring me to speak.
It’s been so long since I’ve played this game with a woman.
This unspoken, wildly fun game that two people play when all there is between them is whispers of attraction. Strong, alluring whispers, but just whispers, nonetheless.
Nothing’s been spoken. Everything is possible.
These days, my dates have been boringly easy to secure. Women fall into my lap, no chase involved. I haven’t felt this rush—this excitement of not knowing what’s next—in a long time.
Not that I’ll ever act on my attraction to Gwen.
I’m too aware of my responsibilities as her boss for that.
Besides, a woman as sweet as her would never stand for a guy like me. I don’t do serious, and I’m guessing that’s the only type of relationship this wholesome, innocent woman engages in.
We’ll never be together.
But I can still enjoy this game.
“Enough to know that you used to race some kid, Frankie, to the swing set,” I tell her. “What I want to know is, who usually won?”
I back away, fill a mug for myself, then lower down onto a stool next to her. I’m careful to choose the one to her left so my good ear is closest to her. I don’t want to miss a word she says this morning.
“He did. Every time. And that’s because I was too busy daydreaming to actually make a real effort. So… you heard me talk about Frankie.” She sips her coffee slowly, like she’s now using the drink in her hands as a way to stall.
It’s clear by the thoughtful look in her blue-green eyes that her mental gears are turning. She’s probably realizing that if I heard her discuss her first-grade crush, that means I also heard about her crush on me.
After a long pause, she finally sets her mug down and peers up at me.
The air sizzles, this unspoken thing zipping between us. Ricocheting off me, back to her.
The energy feels good.
Now she knows that I know about her crush.
“You should not have listened to that,” she whispers.
I chuckle. “So, the tables have turned. My assistant’s telling me what I should and shouldn’t do in my own home. Over breakfast.”
“Trying to… but I guess it’s a little late. You already heard.”
“I did.”
More seconds of silence stretch between us.
“I can’t stay for breakfast,” she announces abruptly as she slides the parfait away. “Thank you, but I—I should go.”
“Stay.” I slide the dish back to her.
Then I gesture to the mug. “Have some coffee. Tell me what I should do about the dogs. I can’t do another night like last night, I’ll tell you that much.”
“Were they up a lot?”
“Zoey started barking at three and didn’t stop. I brought her out, and it didn’t seem to matter. She came back in and started right up again. I tried to block the sound out with a pillow.”
“She was probably anxious. It was her first night away from her mamma. Plus, all that time in the car—I bet she didn’t get enough playtime during the day.” Now she reaches for her spoon, finally, and dips it into the layers. “How did Mr. Brown do?”
“Surprisingly well. The old guy didn’t pee on the floor, at least.”
“The expensive marble floor.”
“Exactly. I was even more worried about him coming into my room. I have wall-to-wall carpeting in there.”
“Sounds nice. I mean—for you. Sounds nice for you. The carpeting, I mean. My bedroom has wood floors, but they need to be redone… Ah hem.” She lifts a spoonful of berries and cashew butter. “Well then. Enough talk about our bedrooms. Moving on.”
She’s adorable. “Moving on,” I agree before taking a big bite, too.
She licks her lips. “Mm. This is good. So, I did send out a couple emails first thing, when I woke up. To every dog boarding place here in town, plus Riley, Green River Falls, and Mancos. And I reached out to pet sitters and dog walkers, too. This is a busy time of year. Everyone’s booked up.”
The dogs have stationed themselves by the sliding glass doors. Zoey has a tennis ball in her mouth, and she gnaws it as she presses her wet nose to the glass.
Mr. Brown turns away from the view, ambles by Gwen’s stool, and brushes against her. Gwen reaches down to pet him. She doesn’t seem to mind the fact that her long sweater is now speckled with his rust-colored fur.
“I’d ask Leena, but she’s down to Mondays and Fridays only, and these guys clearly need more than that.”
“Shoot.”
“You sure you can’t handle it?” I ask when she stops eating so she can pet Mr. Brown’s head. “They really do like you.”
She scratches lovingly behind Mr. Brown’s ears, then shakes her head. “I want to help, but with everything else going on…”
“I have to go into the office soon. I’m recording a podcast with Leo and Jordan.”
“Right. The podcast.”
“They can’t be inside here all day.”
“Nope, they’d go bonkers. Especially Zoey.” She dips her spoon into the parfait again. “Maybe that Vanessa woman you’re seeing could help out?”
“I’m not seeing her. Saw her once or twice, and that was enough.”
“Oh, that’s all? Seemed like she knew you better than that.”
“She wanted to know me better than that. I met her when I was out at a bar for Leo’s birthday party. Then, she came over for a drink. I won’t see her again.”
I remember how, at the bar, she draped herself over me, whispered sweet nothings in my ear, and ended the introduction by entering her number into my phone.
Inviting her over on Saturday was a mistake. I should’ve known we were a poor match just based on how it felt to meet her at the bar.
“Cocktails, right?” Gwen cups her mug and watches me over it. She’s reading my expression, trying to pick up clues.
“I mixed Above the Clouds. Aged rum, amaro, lavender bitters. I tried to talk with her, but she didn’t seem that interested in conversation.”
It was sort of strange, in fact, how quiet Vanessa was. She seemed preoccupied the entire time she was here. Maybe she was too busy imagining what life would be like as Mrs. Benson to actually bother to get to know me.
I know very well that I’m considered an eligible bachelor. Some women, unfortunately, like me only for my wealth. On top of my other issues with women, that makes dating difficult.
A brief, haunting memory of Mia sweeps through me: How afraid I was the day I stood across from her at the altar.
I was young. Twenty-two.
I didn’t know what I was getting into.
Neither of us did.
“Maybe we just didn’t have much in common,” I muse to Gwen. “Anyway, she lives over an hour from here. And I’m not interested in seeing her again, like I said, and she’s got that Cabo trip or whatever. So I can’t ask her to help out with the dogs. It would be much better if you could pitch in.”
“That wouldn’t be a?—”
“Good idea,” I supply. I’m beginning to know her patterns. “Let me guess. You don’t think you’re qualified.”
“I know how to take care of dogs. But I have a lot on my plate.”
“Yet, you managed to talk to my little sister for an entire hour yesterday. That is the reason she dropped these two off with me, you know. Your talk with her left a mark. She headed to Alaska to find Sawyer.”
“Is that right? Wow.”
“Sawyer is not father material.”
“So, you’ve met him?”
“I don’t have to meet him to know that. I’ve heard about him from my mother. He lives in his car.”
“He used to, sometimes, between work stints up north. But this past summer, he was in an apartment.”
I pinch my lips. “So—you know more about him than I do.”
“I’m not trying to sound like a know-it-all. I just think… you know… it’s way better to meet someone in person before passing judgment on them. Maybe he’s a great guy.”
“Kate usually goes for no-good trouble-makers. I stay out of her life. But now, because of you, I’ve been roped in.”
When Gwen reaches for her coffee, it’s with a resigned look on her pretty features. She draws in a long sip, sighs, then eyes me. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this. But, fine. I see your point. I got you into this, so I should help out. And I guess I did sneak in a trip up here yesterday during lunch… so, yeah, I could do that again.” She sighs again, then sinks into one of her long pauses.
“Thank you.”
Her eyebrows pop up. “Oh, wow. Really? Mandy said you never said those two words to her.”
“Mandy never went above and beyond.” I dig into my parfait. “Keep the house key. Come and go as you please. They need to go to a dog park once a day, too, for an hour. I’m sure you can figure that out. And the later you can take out Mr. Brown before settling him in for bed and going home yourself, the better. Maybe Zoey will settle into the routine around here and let me get some sleep.”
Her shoulders slump, like she’s feeling the weight of the added work.
“I know I’m asking a lot of you,” I say. “I’ll throw in a couple thousand if you manage them for the week.”
She clutches her coffee. “I can’t believe this is happening. I must be out of my mind.” Then she nods a few times rapidly. “Yeah. I guess that works. I do need the money…”
“Then it’s a deal. On top of the hourly pay increase you’re already getting, maybe that’ll make up for the inconvenience of spending a little extra time with monstrous me.” I can’t help it—I wink at her.
Then I check the wall clock. “Shoot. I really have to run, or I won’t get time to prep for the podcast before coaching calls start up. Thanks for taking care of these two before you leave the house.”
I grab my parfait glass and now-empty mug. On my way past Gwen to the sink, the strangest urge comes over me. I want to pause, lean in, and give her a quick kiss on her pretty, perfect lips formed in a pout right now.
I want to tell her, ‘See you later, honey.’
Strange.
I barely know this woman. We’ve been thrown together, and yes, she’s been sitting in my kitchen with me before the sun is even up, but still. The urge to kiss her makes no sense.
Instead of hesitating near her, I force my feet to the sink. “You’ll meet me in my office mid-morning, correct?”
She nods but stays quiet.
She’s flustered again.
“I can’t believe HR hasn’t found someone yet,” I say as I place my dishes in the sink. “Last time the position opened up, Elizabeth found a replacement within hours.”
She narrows her eyes and her brow furrows. “Really?”
“Yup. Okay, any last-minute questions before I head out?”
“Oh… I have questions,” she mutters. “Lots of them. But not for you.”
“Gwen, you remain mysterious.”
“Really, I’m not.”
“See you at ten o’clock then, my office. Don’t be late.” I leave the room.
It’s no surprise when the dogs choose to stay with her rather than follow me. They’re loyal to her already, and that Mr. Brown still growls at me whenever I look his way.
A smile flits across my lips as I stride across the entryway to my front door. Gwen has a real knack with the dogs. She’s great with both people and animals. She’s warm, friendly, and kind.
I’ll see her in a couple of hours.
Until then, I’m sure I’ll be thinking about her.
I know that this time with Gwen won’t lead to anything. But that won’t stop me from enjoying her company—for the time being, at least.