by Emma Hart
Peyton grinned. A shit-eating warning grin.
“Actually, no, never mind,” I whispered harshly. “Peyton, you go out the back, I’ll hide, and Chloe can get rid of him!”
Peyt shook her head. “Not a chance. Who is it?” she added, shouting the last three words.
I clapped my hands over my mouth. Not only was this not a good time because I was still freaking out over the kissing, but we’d not long finished a yoga DVD, and I was still sweaty and gross. Not to mention I was pretty sure I’d pulled a muscle.
And the powder. I was covered in donut sugar, okay?
“Uh… It’s Jake,” came the reply through the door.
Peyt waggled her eyebrows. “Jake, eh?”
I glared at her then stuck my middle finger up in her direction. “I hate you.”
The door hinges creaked, and the next thing I knew, Chloe was standing in the door frame. “Hi!” she said in an upbeat tone. “I’m Chloe.” She shoved her hand at him.
“Jake,” he replied slowly, taking her hand. “Is Mellie here?”
“She’s here, but she might be hiding.”
Peyton burst out laughing. My cheeks flamed red, and I stormed across the room and tugged her away from the door.
“Hi. Excuse her. She didn’t take her meds this morning,” I said.
Chloe poked my cheek. “Hello, Mommy. Did you bring me my cookies?”
Peyton, still laughing, stood up. “Okay, Chlo, drop it. Let’s go. We have work to do.”
I spun around as she slipped her laptop into her purse. “And you need to leave to do that? You literally just showed us a penis photo.”
“Your house doesn’t have the right Feng Shui.”
“You’ve never looked up Feng Shui!”
She pointed a finger in my direction. “You don’t know my life!”
Jake blinked between the three of us.
Chloe grabbed hold of her purse and then Peyton’s arm. “We’re going. Call us later, okay?”
Jake moved out of the way while Chloe dragged Peyton out of my house.
“And don’t forget to put your foot down on the kissing thing!” Peyton shouted, eyes sparkling. The last I saw of her was a large, mischievous grin right before Jake shoved the door shut on her.
I collapsed back onto my sofa and buried my face in my hands. “Thank you for that.”
“Me or her?” he asked.
“Her sarcastically, you genuinely.” I dropped my hand. “This isn’t awkward at all.”
Jake grinned, half-stuffing his hands into his pockets. “If it helps, I was here to talk about the “kissing thing.””
“Not really.” I swung my legs up onto the sofa and tucked my feet close to my ass. “I was hoping to not talk about it, but my friends are so helpful.”
“If they know, you’ve been talking about it.”
“I’m not going to sit here and feed your ego.” I jumped up off the sofa and walked to the kitchen. “I don’t want to discuss this at all.” I pulled a donut from the bag and bit into it without looking.
Sprinkles.
Bah.
I darted to the trash can and spat my mouthful into it, followed swiftly by the rest of the donut.
“Did I just see you spit out donut?” Jake joined me in the kitchen, eyebrows raised.
I looked down. “I hate sprinkles,” I said quietly. “It’s like rolling sugar in my mouth.”
“You hate sprinkles?”
“I hate sprinkles,” I repeated. Then pulled the last sugar donut out of the bag, leaving the two sprinkled ones left.
My phone rang. Chloe’s name flashed on the screen, and I hit “answer” then “speaker.” “What?” I demanded.
“I left my donuts,” Peyton whined. “Can you open the door and give them to me?”
“Sure. Two seconds.” I hung up, grabbed the bag, and walked toward my living room window. Jake’s eyebrows shot up, and Chloe’s eyes widened when I opened the door, brandishing the brown bag.
“Peyton!” Chloe shouted.
“Your stupid bakery put my donuts in with your stupid sprinkles! I ate one and threw it out!” I called out of the window. “And for the stunt you just pulled, Peyton Austin—”
“Don’t throw my donuts!” she hollered, jumping down my steps.
“—you can catch them!”
Sadly, she caught them. But I pointed two fingers at my eyes, then at her. Her response was to make the universal blow-job sign with her hand and her tongue.
I was told I’d grow up.
Someone was wrong.
I tugged the window shut and turned around. Jake was now perched on the edge of my kitchen table. His lips were curved in amusement and his arms were folded across his chest like he was watching a stand-up comedy show live.
He probably was, in all honesty.
“So. This isn’t awkward at all,” I said, wringing my fingers.
He quirked a brow. “I actually came here to talk about what happened, but it seems like you’ve already decided what you need to say.”
I dropped my hands and put them on my hips. “Yes. That, um, the kiss. It can’t happen again.”
He hooked his thumbs in his belt loops.
“We work together. It’s completely inappropriate.”
He titled his head to the side, lips twitching.
“You’re my boss. It was a mistake. It can’t happen again.”
“All right,” Jake said.
All right.
Just all right.
“All right?” I repeated. “You didn’t come here to tell me that.”
“How do you know what I came here to say?”
“I don’t, but I’d bet good money it wasn’t to tell me it can’t happen again.” I twirled a loose thread from the hem of my shirt around my finger lightly.
He blew out a long breath. “You’re right. It wasn’t. But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re correct. It can’t happen again.”
I blinked at him. I don’t know what I was expecting him to say, but it wasn’t that.
“Don’t look so shocked, spitfire. You’re the one who just said it.”
“I wasn’t expecting you to agree with me.”
“That’s obvious by the look on your face.” He pushed off the table and walked toward. “Look. It happened. I’m not going to stand in front of you and deny that I’m extremely attracted to you. Without even considering the fact I’ve seen your boobs.”
I grimaced.
He tried not to laugh. “But, you’re right. We work together. It’s bad enough working with you now when you argue with me over desk space and the whole toilet seat thing.”
“Still not forgiven for that, by the way.”
“See? That’s my point. If this is bad, I can’t imagine how intolerable you’d be if I did something like made your coffee wrong or left the toilet seat up at your house as well as at work.”
The image of me cussing him out because of the toilet seat while he made coffee, shirtless in my kitchen, flashed through my mind.
I beat it away. There was no place for it. Not in my mind and not in reality.
Tell that to the butterfly making me feel sick in my stomach.
“And the money I’d have to spend to baby-proof this house so you don’t hurt yourself?” He shook his head. “Why has nobody done that, actually?”
“Because I pretty much only hurt myself when you’re around. There’s a link. You called me; I stubbed my toe. You on my sofa, I kicked the table. You in the street, I trip on a cobblestone. You scare me; I take out half the office. You see the pattern here?”
“Yes. You’re determined to fall at my feet.” He grinned.
I stared at him, reaffirming my stance with my hands on my hips. “In your dreams. We’ve spent way too much time together outside of work, and that’s why we kissed. It’s that simple. We know each other more than the average boss and employee.”
“True. And we can change that.”
“He says while st
anding in my house.”
He held up his hands. “I came here to clear the air before work tomorrow, and that’s what we’re doing.”
I nodded once. “Right. So, we’re clear. Just work. We’re not friends, just boss and employee. And there will be no more discussing my boobs. And we definitely can’t kiss again.”
“Boss and employee, not friends. No more boob-talk. And we can’t kiss again,” he summarized.
“Perfect.”
Our eyes met, and the silence that stretched between us was heavy. Thick and uncomfortable, almost as if it were full of lies.
“Well, I hope like hell you have more resolve than I do,” Jake said softly, breaking the silence while keeping his gaze locked on mine.
“Wh—why is that?” I was afraid to ask—to hear the answer.
I was right to be.
He reached out, and his fingertips grazed across my temple as he tucked my hair behind my ear. “Just because I can’t kiss you again, doesn’t mean I won’t.”
I swallowed, stepping back. “That’s not how it works.”
“I know.” Jake put his hands in his pockets, briefly glancing away before his gaze collided with mine once again. “Which is why I hope you’re a stronger person than I am.”
He turned on those last words and walked toward my front door. He put his hand on the handle, and I said, “I thought you weren’t sorry.”
He looked over his shoulder, gray eyes shining as they found mine. “I’m not. Let’s make it clear, Mellie.” He dropped the handle and walked straight back to me, stopping right in front of me so I had to crane my neck back to look at him. “I’m not sorry. I could kiss you right now, and apart from kicking myself for breaking the one rule I just made, I still wouldn’t be sorry.” He cupped my chin, tilting his face down to mine. “Wanting to kiss you and refusing to doesn’t make me regret the fact I did. It makes me regret the fact I had to be the person who bought your hotel, but at the same time, if I hadn’t bought it, I would never know who the crazy, attitude-filled, beautiful blonde who flashed me was.”
“I’m confused,” I said quietly.
“Yeah. Try being in my head.” He half-smiled. “Don’t confuse me doing the right thing with not wanting you.”
I tried to reply to that, but I couldn’t. Which was a good thing, because this time, when Jake went to the door, I wasn’t stupid enough to speak and stop him. I stood in silence and watched him leave.
The click of the door as it shut echoed through my silent house.
I blew out a long breath and fell back onto my sofa. My heart was pounding wildly, and I didn’t even know just how hard until now. Now he was gone, and I was alone and I had to process what he’d just said.
None of it made sense.
I’d done what I’d had to do. I’d put my foot down. Made it clear where I stood.
He’d tried to do the same, but instead of clearing the air, I was afraid he’d started a storm.
Because if he was expecting me to be the stronger person…he was wrong.
If he kissed me again—today, tomorrow, a month from now, there wasn’t a chance in hell I’d be pushing him away.
And that meant I was in trouble.
It also meant I needed to grow a pair, but I’d think about that tomorrow when my heart wasn’t trying to kill me and my legs weren’t screaming in pain.
Instead, I planned to run a hot bath and do what all women did when men said dumb shit: overthink it until I’d successfully solved why penguins can’t fly.
Chapter Fifteen
Upside #15: The only thing you have to overthink is whether or not you can get away with that dress. The key: whether or not your mother will take one look at you and ask you if you’re pregnant.
Every time someone walked past my office, I flinched. I kept the door ajar so I wouldn’t be shocked when Jake arrived, but ever since he’d left my house and I’d had my bath—in which I’d thought so much I solved world hunger and the homeless crisis, thank you very much—I’d been on edge thinking about what would happen when I saw him.
If we were now boss and employee, did I have to call him Mr. Creed? Would he now call me Melanie all the time? Would it be awkward when we sat across the desk from each other?
Oh, Jesus. Of course, it would be awkward. I knew what he tasted like, for the love of God. I couldn’t stop thinking about how he kissed.
If I thought my crush was a schoolgirl one before, I’d obviously forgotten what it was like to be in high school.
What the hell was I doing? The only way this would be comfortable was if we didn’t work together. But equally, I refused to leave my job because of a man.
I had to grow a pair. I had to stop thinking of him the way I was.
If only it were that easy. He was as close to perfect as a guy could get. Which meant he either had a very small penis or a problem with ingrowing toenails. Maybe he couldn’t read or he had an uncomfortably close relationship with a female relative.
There had to be something wrong with him. Nobody, and I mean nobody, could kiss that well, be that good looking, and be as much of a gentleman as Jacob Creed was, without having something wrong with them.
It was that simple.
Like me. I was arguably rather pretty. I was successful, I could cook, and I was a bit of a green-thumbed girl. It was a shame about my clumsiness, or Jane Austen would have married me off by now.
My mother would have married me off by now if I hadn’t smashed Davy Boudreau’s mama’s favorite vase at a party. In my defense, I warned her I couldn’t dance.
I also warned my mother I wasn’t cut out for the high-society in this city, which she really should have known when the man hired to teach me to dance quit because I kept stepping on his toes.
It was a miracle I could cook without burning so much as my finger, really.
I unscrewed the cap on my water bottle and looked out of the window as I took a drink. There was a stack of paperwork sitting on my desk, but all I could think about was what was wrong with Jacob Creed.
That charming smile had to hide something. The devil wore many disguises, according to my grandma.
Then again, she also thought chickens were the devil’s minions, so her logic was questionable.
“Hey.”
I spat out half my water and choked on the other half.
Jake sighed. “You’re right. I’m the common denominator here. Try not to choke to death on my account, yeah?”
I thumped my chest and put the bottle on the desk. Waving my hand to tell him to shut up, I managed to get rid of the horrible tickle in my throat.
“You didn’t hear me coming? Lillie stopped me to warn me you’ve been like a nervous beetle all morning.” Jake pushed the door fully shut and put a white paper bag on the desk. “What’s wrong with you?”
“I was thinking about my grandma and her feelings about chickens,” I said slowly, reaching for the cap to put back on the bottle. “Don’t ask.”
He raised one eyebrow, a la The Rock style. Questioning, confused expression and everything. “Part of me tells me I shouldn’t, but honestly, I do have questions.”
I waved him away. “It’s too early for that.” I turned back to the mound of paperwork when a couple of envelopes caught my eye. “Oh, by the way,” I said, reaching for them. “You had mail this morning.”
“Thanks.” He took them from me and glanced at them. “I’ll open those in a minute. I didn’t eat yet.” He opened the white bag and pulled out several smaller bags with the top folded over. “Here. This one is yours.”
Tentatively, I took the bag from him. “Aren’t we supposed to be not-friends?”
“Yes.” He picked up the other bags and held them up. “I’m being a good boss and bought donuts and pastries for everyone. I’m going to put them in the staff area now.”
I blinked at him as he left, leaving one single bag on the desk behind him.
I couldn’t say for sure, but that sounded an awful lot like someone was
bending the rules.
And God, the donuts were still hot.
I pulled one out and bit into it. It was an explosion of sugar and gooey goodness on my tongue—and on the paperwork I was supposed to be working on. Rolling my eyes at my own stupidity, but also thanking my lucky stars that was the most mess I’d made today, I wiped it off onto the floor and set the half-eaten donut on top of the paper bag.
Well, it was the most mess I’d made if you didn’t count the water, and I didn’t. It was water. If water was a mess, the Earth needed a real damn good clean up.
Damn. I could have done with that line as a kid.
I managed to get through several bits of the paperwork—and the donut—before Jake made it back to the office. If I was being honest, he looked pretty damn smug and proud of himself.
He grinned ear-to-ear, and there was something overly endearing about the way his eyes sparkled. Hell, he was even whistling.
Why was he whistling?
“Why are you whistling? And can you please stop?” I pressed against my ear to get rid of the lingering ring from the awful noise.
Jake grinned at me. “I’m in a good mood, and I happen to whistle a lot when that happens.”
“You either just bribed your staff with baked goods or you gave them them so you could get around buying me donuts.”
“Someone thinks a lot of herself this morning.”
“Someone sees through your bullshit.”
He snorted and sat down. “I can neither deny or confirm your accusations.”
“You’re so full of shit. It’s not even been twenty-four hours, and you’re already breaking all your rules.”
He leaned back in his hair, a smug smile on his face. “And you were supposed to be the strong one, but you’re covered in powdered sugar.”
“Look.” I rested my elbow on the table and pointed my pen at him. “If you hand me donuts, I’m going to eat them. That means I’m weak where donuts are concerned, not where you are.”
“You once told me donuts are the way to your heart.”
“That has nothing to do with this.”
His eyes sparkled. “I literally just bought my way into your heart.”
I stared at him. “That’s literally the worst line I’ve ever heard in my life, and my friends run hook-up and dating websites. Chloe has a page of bad pick up lines on her website.”