I flip on the TV and turn down the blankets. I grab a brush and begin running it through my hair as I grab an orange juice from the mini fridge. Two minutes later, my food is done and I’m snuggled up in bed watching Lost reruns while eating as much food as my stomach will hold. After gorging myself on breakfast bowls, chips, candy, and popcorn, I fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.
I spend the weekend on the down-low, hiding from everyone who possibly came in contact with me at the Spring Fling. I avoid Drake like the plague, too—no way am I ready to face him so soon. He must feel the same way, because he hasn’t called or texted me at all to see where we are on the plan or what the next step will be. Instead of facing my problems head-on, I avoid them for as long as possible.
When Monday morning rolls around, I can’t put it off any longer. I have to force myself from bed and into real clothes to head out into the world. You’d think that living in a town this small and so far away from home, I wouldn’t care if I made an ass out of myself. But I do. My reputation isn’t the only thing on the line here—it’s the reputation of the company I work for as well. I highly doubt Mr. Mason wants to hear about how I got a little too carried away at the Spring Fling, danced with every man in town, and then followed our biggest client home to seduce him. God, just thinking about it that way has my skin flushed with embarrassment. I just want to crawl back into my hole and stay there, so I never have to see the judging looks I’m sure to get when I walk out of here.
Pushing everything away, I leave my motel room and decide that I’ll test the waters by stopping at the local diner for some coffee and a muffin. Walking inside, everyone looks up, but I don’t see anyone whispering like what I thought would happen. I stop at the counter and have a seat. I’m only there a few minutes before the waitress is walking over with a kind smile.
“Good mornin’,” she greets.
“Morning. Can I get a cup of coffee and a blueberry muffin to go, please?”
“Sure thing.” She quickly walks away to prepare my order.
While I wait, I glance around the diner. Most of the old men sitting at the counter either tip their hats to me or offer up a friendly smile. The people sitting at the tables seem to ignore me completely. Maybe I’m not the talk of the town the way I thought I’d be. Maybe all the embarrassment and worry were for nothing.
The waitress places my order in front of me and I hand over a five before telling her to keep the change.
“Thank you. Have a wonderful day now.”
I grab my things and walk toward the door.
I drink my coffee and eat my muffin on the way to the brewery. I need to face Drake and talk about the next thing we can do to get the town on his side, however, that’s going to be hard to do when I’m avoiding him. He didn’t reach out all weekend. That tells me he took our agreement seriously. He’s accepting that it was just a one-night stand and he’s not expecting anything else. That makes me feel a little better, but I’m still embarrassed and ashamed of my actions. It never should’ve happened.
Finishing off my coffee, I put the car into park and look up at the building. My heart is pounding in my chest, and my breathing is erratic. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. With a surge of bravery, I push myself to keep going. I step out and walk across the parking lot, then open the big double doors. The woman at the front desk waves me on.
“I’ll let him know you’re on your way up,” she says as I pass.
I smile and nod once as a thank you, but I’m too afraid to say it, fearing I won’t have control of my voice. Nerves have taken over my body.
The elevator opens and a man steps off. I almost bump into him, then realize it’s Harrison. He must’ve just left Drake’s office. Great. That means we’ll be all alone up there.
“Good morning, Ms. Teller. How are you doing today?” he asks as he sidesteps me.
I nod and offer a smile. “As good as can be expected. Is he up in his office?” I point toward the ceiling.
He nods once. “He is. Please call down if you need me.”
On the ride up, I’m a nervous wreck. My stomach is doing flips, I’m sweating, and I can’t seem to stand evenly on my feet. Instead, I’m bouncing from one to the other. The elevator dings and the doors open more quickly than I would’ve liked. With a shuddering breath, I push myself forward, stepping into his office.
I find him sitting behind his desk, looking at whatever’s in front of him. His eyes are cast downward, determination etched on every feature of his face. Small lines surround his serious eyes, with wrinkles forming between them as he draws his brows together. His sharp jaw is cocked, and his soft lips are pressed together in a straight line. His shaggy dark hair is tucked behind his ears and his gray Henley shirt is pushed up to his elbows, exposing his larger-than-life forearms. I linger another second to fully take him in. Why am I drawn to this man like catnip? He’s big and thick all over—rough around the edges just like his big hands. Dammit, there I go again. Just the thought of those hands has me weak in the knees.
“You going to come in or stand there gawking?” he asks, not bothering to look up at me.
I swallow down every emotion that’s bubbling up and step forward. I move across the office slowly and carefully. Finally, I take a seat across from him and he looks up at me. When our eyes meet, the breath is stolen from my lungs. I’m suddenly hit with images of the things we did: him moving between my parted knees, the way my hands shook with need for him, the sound he made when his release took over. It causes goosebumps to prickle my skin, and I hope he doesn’t notice.
“What do you have for me today?” he asks, clasping his hands together on top of his paperwork.
“Uhh, I . . .” I start, but I honesty have no idea where to go from here. I was expecting a recap of what we did, as well as a discussion of how to put it behind us. I was expecting awkwardness and a sense of unease. I’m completely thrown off by his attempt to ignore the situation completely.
I clear my throat and give my head a small, unnoticeable shake, trying to clear it. I open my notebook, looking over the list of ideas I have. “I wanted to talk about giving back to the community. It’s been brought to my attention that there’s a local family whose barn recently burned down. I guess most of the donated money the Spring Fling brought in went to them. I was thinking that it’d be great if you could make a sizable donation to help rebuild their barn.”
“Sure. Would $20,000 cut it?” He opens his desk drawer and pulls out his checkbook.
“I . . . I think that would be more than enough.” I nod my head. I can tell that my eyes are stretched wide. I’m being weird, but I can’t help it. He must find it amusing, because his eyes are glistening and his mouth is slightly turned up at the corners.
As he writes the check, I look back at my list, trying to find the next thing. “I’ve been doing some digging into the families who own the surrounding properties where you’re wanting to build, and I discovered that Lucy Jones just had a baby girl. I thought we could send them a card, and maybe a floral arrangement or something, just to let the family know we’re thinking of them.”
He chuckles and shakes his head. “Seems pointless to me, but whatever you think is best.”
I sit upright, straightening my back and raising my chin. “We need this brewery to be considered a small hometown family business.”
“It is,” he points out. “It’s been passed down from generation to generation, and in this town, that’s as good as it gets.”
“I know, but you’ve kept yourself so locked away that the town doesn’t even consider you a part of it. You’re a billionaire thanks to this business and your family’s wise investments, and the people here know it. Small hometown businesses care about their community and the people in it. They support other local businesses. They support families in their times of need. A company that shows compassion for its customers is a good company. And in return, customers will show respect for the company.
“So did you already pic
k out the flowers?” he asks, rolling his eyes.
I quickly send him a link to the flower arrangement I’d previously selected. I also text him the address of where it’ll need to be sent.
“Great. My assistant will handle it. Anything else?” he asks.
I nod, a wide smile in place. “Yeah, the town is putting together a Battle of the Businesses. I thought it’d be great if you entered.”
“And what exactly is that?”
“It’s where all the local businesses enter a competition. There will be all kinds of contests, and the business with the most wins, wins!”
“What do they win?”
I shrug. “No idea, but any exposure is good exposure.”
“Fine. Sign me up.”
I smirk just thinking about watching Drake in a potato sack race.
With a smile, he hands me the check he wrote. I reach out and take it, our hands accidentally touching in the process. The moment we have skin-to-skin contact, everything seems to freeze. Everything but my heart, that is. My heart starts racing. I thought after our one night that this would be out of my system, but it’s not. It must not be out of his, either. His eyes squint as they take me in, his back straightens, and his chest moves up and down quickly like he’s out of breath.
“Are we going to talk about the elephant in the room?” he asks, not taking his eyes off me.
I let my hand fall back to my lap as I look down at the notebook I’m holding. I’m too afraid to make eye contact with him now that he’s seen my body’s natural reaction to him.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I try.
He laughs and it causes my eyes to cut to him. “You don’t know what I’m talking about?” he questions.
“Even if I did, it wouldn’t matter, because we had an agreement, remember?”
“Oh, I remember, but I regret it. The agreement, not us,” he clarifies.
“Wha-what do you mean?” I can hear the nerves and fear in my voice. It’s drenching every word that leaves my lips.
“I hate that I agreed to keep it as a one-time thing, because once wasn’t enough. I haven’t gotten you out of my system yet. And honestly, I don’t think you’ve gotten me out of yours.” He’s leaning closer to me. I’m thankful the desk is between us.
“Why would you think that?” I ask, if only to delay the inevitable.
“The way your body came alive when our hands touched. Your chest started rising and falling quickly, causing your nipples to harden and poke against your top. Your eyes filled with lust and passion. And I can’t ignore the sudden change between us. Things went from friendly business talk to awkward and shaky at best. I want you, Celeste. Not forever—I’m not that kind of man. Not anymore. But I want you now. I want to bend you over this desk and slide inside you until you beg me to stop. I want to hear my name come from your lips in gasps. I want to feel the way your body shakes around mine. I want you walking out of this building pumped full of me. And I want that until we’re both done with each other. I can’t offer you any more than what I am.”
“And what’s that?” I ask, a little too out of breath.
“A broken man who needs more than he lets on. I need you out of my system, and there’s only one way to do that. I want to fuck you, Celeste, over and over. I’m not promising sweet love; I’m promising carnal lust and desire. What we both want.”
I want that too, every bit of it, but I can’t. Not sober anyway. The other night was a mistake. I know it. He knows it too, deep down.
“The other night was a mistake,” I tell him, controlling my voice as much as possible, but it still betrays me.
He nods. “I know.” He sits back in his chair. “I never should have allowed myself to touch you, but I did, and now I need more than a taste.”
I shake my head and stand, needing distance. “I should go before I make another mistake.” I rush toward the elevator and push the button, but the door doesn’t open right away. I hear footsteps behind me and turn around, coming face-to-face with him.
His eyes lock on mine, and they’re dark and determined. He wets his lips as he steps closer, causing me to step back. My back hits the wall and he stops just inches from me. “If you don’t want me to touch you, I won’t. I’m not that kind of man. But I think we both know how badly we want each other. If you think you can pretend you don’t, fine. But if you want to stop pretending and join me in the real world, I’ll be right here.”
The elevator dings and the doors open, causing me to jump. Drake backs away and I take this opportunity to leave. I push the button for the ground level and stand back, willing the doors to close as quickly as possible. Our eyes lock together as they finally begin to shut. When the elevator starts to descend, I lean against the wall and let out a deep breath, thankful for the space and distance. I’m not sure what I was hoping would happen. Did I want him to kiss me? Yes, but no. I need to keep my distance, but I don’t want to. I feel like a confused teenager again. I’ve never in my life been more confused. Do I keep my distance since my job could possibly be on the line, or do I give myself what I so desperately want, consequences be damned?
I exit the building as quickly as possible, questions unanswered.
After I put in my time at the office, I find myself heading toward the bar, hoping to talk with Stephanie. Maybe all I need is another woman’s perspective. I take a seat and she smiles as she walks up to me.
“How you feeling after the other night?” she asks, hands busy making a drink.
I let out a deep breath. “That was rough.”
She laughs and nods along. “Yeah, I figured it would be. At least you seemed to be having a good time. Did you find yourself a suitor?”
I laugh nervously, “No. I’m not looking.”
She passes the drink off to the guy sitting a few seats down. She walks back and has a seat on the other side of the bar, in front of me. “So, you want a drink or—?”
“Ha, no. I don’t think I’ll be drinking for a long time.”
“What brings you by?” She lifts her eyebrows and gives me a knowing smile.
I press my lips together. “I’m confused,” I confess, laying my head against the bar.
“About Drake?”
My head pops up. “How did you know?”
She shrugs. “I’m good at reading between the lines. You were upset when you got his text. But your entire face lit up when you saw him here. Not to mention there was enough heat between you two on the dance floor, it could’ve melted the North Pole. Then when you left, it seemed like you were chasing after him. And it was easy to see how much he wanted you. The whole time you were dancing, he was just drinking and watching you.”
“It’s so stupid. I want him. Like, I really want him. But I don’t know him. And I shouldn’t want him. He’s my client! But it’s all I can think about and I don’t know what to do about it,” I confess, the words leaving my lips at lightning speed.
“If you want him, then go for it. I mean, how bad could it be?”
“I could lose my job if my boss finds out.”
She moves her head from side to side like she’s weighing the options. “Yeah, but what are the odds he’ll find out? Plus, you’re both adults. I guess I don’t see why you think it’s so bad.”
“He’s probably 15 years older,” I point out.
“So? That’s not that big a difference anymore. And he’s totally hot for an older guy. I’d do him,” she laughs out.
I roll my eyes. “So you really don’t think it’d be bad to start something up with him?”
“I’m all about choices, Celeste. It’s your choice. It’s your life. Do what makes you happy.”
I offer a small smile. “Thanks.”
Eight
Drake
HAVING to hold myself back and watch her walk away was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, but I managed it. I don’t want to come on too strong. I don’t want to scare her. She’s obviously in the middle of a mental tug-of-war. Whe
n she’s no longer in my office, I take a seat behind my desk again. My mind fills with images of the other night. Just thinking about her makes me hard. The most frustrating thing is, I was hungry for her and had a little too much to drink that night, so I don’t remember much of it. I want to do it again—burn it into my memory so it can last forever.
Harrison walks into my office and drops a file folder in front of me. “This is everything I found on Linda Hammond.”
“Thank you,” I say, shaking the dirty thoughts from my head as I lean forward to study the contents.
“Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“Not at this time. Thank you.”
He nods once, goes to take a step, but then stops.
“Is something bothering you, Harrison?”
“You and the lawyer . . .”
“Are none of your business,” I say, finishing his sentence.
“I know that, sir. But . . .”
“No buts.”
“Is there reason for me to worry? You are like a son to me, after all.”
“I’ll let you know when your opinions are needed. Until then, please, get back to work.”
He nods and finally leaves my office. I hate to make him feel unappreciated, but I really need him to mind his own business when it comes to my personal life. What Celeste and I are—or aren’t—doing is none of his concern.
Now that I have my office to myself once again, I open the file in front of me. The first page is a piece of paper with all of Linda’s employee information. Her tax papers are included. I’m guessing that’s how Harrison managed to pull all this information together. The paper trail follows her throughout her time here at the brewery and then a few towns over in Mooresville after she quit. She rented a small two-bedroom apartment when she arrived there, and took a job at a local grade school, where she became a cook. She worked in that job for four years, and at some point during her first year, she took a six-week leave. I stop reading and think. Maternity leave is usually around six weeks, but then again, so is something like FMLA. I try to find more details about her leave of absence, but there’s nothing else available.
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