Chapter 23 #2
I fully acknowledge the cringe of motivational phrases. But I’ll do anything that works. If I thought it would help me land my first client, I’d recite an incantation. Burn sage. Dance naked in the moonlight. Whatever it takes.
A door opens down the hall, and I see it’s my neighbor, a single mother with two adorable daughters. Her divorce settlement just came through, and she’s hoping to buy a small house in a better neighborhood so her girls can get into a good school system.
“Hi, Teresa.” I smile in greeting to the cute and curvy woman in a waitress uniform.
“Hey, Emma,” she says. She’s distracted, looking at her phone as she speaks.
“I wanted to thank you for helping with my paperwork for my mortgage. The man at the bank complimented me on being so organized, which is all on you. I should know more by the end of the wee—” She freezes when she gets a look at the star standing at my side.
“Holy shit,” she whispers.
“Hi,” Sebastian says with a wide smile. It’s his meet-and-greet grin. Warm. Charming. Devastating.
And it affects my neighbor the way it affects everyone. “Oh,” she breathes. “You’re Sebastian Blake. I love you!”
“Guilty as charged,” he agrees easily.
She giggles and smooths her hair. “Now I know why you weren’t interested in dating my brother,” she says wryly. “Not when you have a real live movie star.”
“I don’t have a movie star. I just work for one. Or, at least, I did,” I falter.
Sebastian pulls me close. I’m too surprised to move.
“Sure,” Teresa says, her eyes twinkling in amusement.
His slash of dimples makes an appearance. “It looks like the secret’s out, darling,” he drawls.
I finally shrug away from him with a glare, ignoring how his touch causes my pulse to quicken.
Teresa laughs, too focused on him to note my reaction. “Well, we’ll miss Emma horribly when you steal her away. She’s helped so many of us in this building over the years.”
“Oh shush. I haven’t done much. And you’ve thanked me plenty with your amazing muffins. Plus, I’m not going anywhere anytime soon,” I say, with a pointed look at my now-ex-boss.
Teresa glances at her phone and grimaces. “Shit, I’ll be late for my shift. B-bye, it was nice to meet you,” she says with a blush before rushing past us down the hall.
Sebastian’s steady gaze makes me squirm. “So apparently, you don’t just organize me. You organize everyone around you.”
I shrug. “It’s what I’m good at. And they return the favor. I know you think this building is in a rough neighborhood. And, well, maybe not all the tenants are in law-abiding professions. But most of us try to take care of each other.”
I return to searching for my keys, grateful for the distraction. When I finally find them, I open my door. Sebastian follows me into my tiny apartment.
When I step into my living room, I can feel myself relax. It may be loud and not exactly luxurious, but it’s mine. And at least Sebastian’s already seen it, so I don’t have to worry about him judging me like he did the first time he was here.
All I want is to crawl into my pajamas and sleep. But first, I have a movie star to kick out.
“Well. Thanks for the ride. I appreciate it. But now you need to go.”
He sets my bag on the floor by my sofa and looks up. I know that stubborn expression. It’s the one he uses when he knows what he wants and intends to get it, despite any opposition. It makes me nervous because I know better than most that when he has a goal, he almost always gets his way.
Ignoring my not-so-subtle suggestion, he saunters into the kitchen and peers into cupboards. He opens my fridge and frowns before closing it.
I huff out a breath. The wave of exhaustion from my pounding head makes me even more impatient. “What are you looking for?”
“You’re due to take your medicine, so you have to eat something.”
“Believe it or not, I can feed myself. I’ve been doing it for years.”
Sebastian gives me a grim smile. “What are you going to eat? Your refrigerator contains energy drinks, coffee creamer, three chocolate bars, a bottle of hot sauce, and assorted moisturizers.”
“Skin care is important. And I’ll grab a bowl of cereal.”
“There’s no milk.”
“I eat it dry. It keeps the little marshmallows from getting soggy.”
He shakes his head. “I called my nutritionist. She said you should eat vegetables, protein, and healthy fats to manage your blood sugar. You can’t live on caffeine and sweets.”
I cross my arms and glare at him. It’s not a pleasant feeling to be judged by Sebastian when I’m usually the judgy one in our relationship.
He pulls out his phone and makes a call. “Hey, Duncan. I need you to get Emma and me some takeout. Get something for yourself as well. No, I have no idea where. Research it. Maybe tuna. No, wait. She hates fish. Chicken. And make sure whatever you get comes with a big salad or vegetables.”
That he remembers I hate fish softens me somewhat.
I know he’s trying to help, in his own bull-in-a-china-shop way.
“Sebastian, remember when we talked about crossing lines?” Even to myself, I sound tired.
Because I am, dammit. I don’t have the energy to resist him.
But I also don’t understand why he’s still here or what he wants.
He hangs up the phone and grabs my bag, taking the scant few steps to my bedroom.
Like the rest of the apartment, it’s small.
But I’ve made it as inviting as possible.
Having such a busy brain means that I sometimes struggle with insomnia.
So, I’ve tried to make my bedroom a refuge.
Sadie painted the wall that my bed is against with a mural of cherry blossoms. I paired it with crisp, high-thread-count cotton sheets I got at a deep discount from an outlet shop.
It was still a splurge, but I love the sheets. I’d marry them if I could.
Sebastian prowls the room, his sharp eyes not missing any detail. He picks up a book, turns it over, and smiles.
“Marie Kondo, why am I not surprised?”
I shrug. “She sparks joy.”
He sets it down and peers at a photo of my dad, my sister, and me that was taken a few years ago when he’d returned to California for a visit.
When he’s done inspecting my private space, he murmurs, “Not what I expected, Em.”
“What did you expect?”
“I don’t know. Something more… practical.”
“Did you think I opened a portal in a spreadsheet, crawled in, and went to sleep?”
His lips quirk. “Hmm. Possibly.”
“You can put my bag down there.” I point to a bench.
“I really appreciate what you’re trying to do.
But I’m crazy exhausted. I need to go to sleep.
And you shouldn’t have arranged food because I’m not hungry,” I mumble with a yawn.
I sit on the bed. I can’t believe how tired I am just from checking out of the hospital and a short drive.
Sebastian surprises me by sinking down on one knee and taking off one of my shoes. Then the other. I never thought feet were an erogenous zone, but I’m rethinking that now.
He looks up with an indecipherable expression. I imagine another scenario where his hands make their way up to my legs and beyond. Inconvenient desire surges.
“Lean back,” he growls.
Transfixed, I do as he instructs. Because, damn.
I lie back as he lifts my feet onto the bed, his hands moving up toward my bare legs and settling on my knees, kneading.
My heart speeds up. I’m practically shaking.
He looks down.
My breath catches.
“Emma,” he murmurs.
“Yes?” All my senses are suddenly fully awake.
“Sleep,” he growls.
Disappointment rushes through me.
He stands, watching me with a firm, commanding expression.
I don’t find that commanding expression superhot. Nope. I don’t.
“I’ll wake you when the food arrives. You have to take your medicine on a full stomach,” he adds in a low rumble.
And with that, he prowls out of the room.
I’m left lying in bed staring at my cheap popcorn ceiling.
Banging sounds. I know from experience that my upstairs neighbor’s kids have moved on from the game of chase to jumping from their bunk beds.
Flecks of the paint and bits of ceiling float down and land light as air on my chest. I close my eyes, and the thudding ceiling and childish squeals from above lull me into a deep, deep sleep.
I wake up fuzzy-headed and confused. At first, I think I’m back in the hospital. But I open one eye and then the other. I realize I’m in my own bed, still fully clothed, with a blanket.
It’s hard to tell if it’s day or night. My curtains are of the thick, blackout variety because my bedroom faces the parking lot and car headlights shine in at all hours of the night.
My face feels gritty, and my mouth is dry. My last memory is of Sebastian saying he’d wake me so I could eat and take my headache medicine, but I don’t remember doing that.
I must have fallen asleep and he got tired of waiting and left.
Sitting up causes my head to pound again, though it’s receded a little after my rest. Turning to my bedside clock, I see that it’s 10 p.m. and I’ve been out for hours.
Right, I decide. Shower first. And then I’ll rustle something up for dinner and take my medication. Or maybe Sebastian left the food he ordered.
I stand gingerly, waiting for the wave of dizziness to pass before padding out into the hall and making my way into the bathroom.
I step into the shower and sigh deeply, reveling in the hot water pounding down my back. Even the intermittent bursts of cold that come through when someone else in the building flushes a toilet don’t dampen my ardor about being out of the hospital.
It’s true what they say—you need the bad to appreciate the good sometimes. Fifteen minutes later, I’m scrubbed, moisturized, and conditioned, and wrapped in a fluffy white towel.
I almost feel human. Almost. Because I still need caffeine. I don’t care if it’s late or I’m still supposed to limit it post-concussion.
Tucking my towel tighter, I smile to myself, imagining my ex-boss scolding me for my coffee-and-sugar habit.
I plan on making dietary changes. But first, I need to do research, and then tomorrow, I’ll stock up on an assortment of healthier food.
That will entail a list. And I don’t have the energy to tackle that tonight. Now I just need some quick comfort food before making my way back to bed.
I’m halfway to the kitchen, thankful that Sebastian left a lamp on in the living room, when I skid to a halt.
The man in my thoughts is lying on my uncomfortable couch, asleep.
He’s wrapped in my favorite cream cable-knit blanket, his thick lashes impossibly long and black on his cheeks and his hair messy over his brow.
What. The. Hell?
Maybe I say the words aloud because no sooner have I thought them than his eyes fly open.
I take a giant step back. Which confuses my concussed brain. I stumble.
One second, Sebastian is lying on the couch. The next, he’s vaulted over the edge of it. His arms reach out and pull me to him before I completely lose my balance.
My towel, the only thing between me and total nakedness, slips a little, but thankfully, holds.
His gaze strays to my lips, then down to my cleavage on full display, then back to my lips. We’re standing so close, every soft part of me lines up to every hard part of him.
I’m frozen in place, on sensory overload, my brain screaming at me that this is Sebastian. My boss.
Except, he’s no longer my boss.
A ribbon of giddiness threads through my body at that heady thought.