Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 81986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
“I bet you were a good boss.” I rubbed his shoulders, trying to burrow past that heavy cape he described so heartbreakingly. I had enough years of work in mental health to know my limitations, yet I yearned to break through the frosty layers he’d wrapped himself in.
“I tried to be one.” His gaze softened and turned distant. “Anyway, when Peggy Jane announced she’d be retiring, I had the idea to give her a surprise party. Flew her grandkids up from Arizona, got a dude in marketing to make a hype video, and booked a private room at her favorite Italian place. And she loved it. I remember heading home in the car afterward, how light I felt because it all went off without a hitch.”
“That lightness—you can feel that again.”
“I wish I shared your certainty.” His eyes briefly fluttered shut, then opened again. “But yeah, there was a run of years where life wasn’t terrible before everything went to hell again. Right until the feds showed up, I loved working there. Heck, I even loved being in charge of the summer interns.”
“Interns? That sounds a little like what I do wrangling the teens at the coffee shop. Only yours was the brainy, nerdy version.”
That earned me a little laugh from Worth. “Yep, Ivy league summer camp. I did an end-of-summer party for the interns every year too. Watching them have a great time made me…happy. Yeah. That’s it. I was happy being a good boss with a job that I thought was helping people make their financial dreams come true, but that doesn’t matter now.”
“It matters.” I squeezed him tightly, trying to will him to feel some of my energy and hope that he could return to that happiness. The start of a plan spun through my head. My mom would say I was never more dangerous than when I had good intentions and a plan, and she wasn’t wrong. “What if you could be a manager again?”
“You know someone hiring out-of-work, ostracized financial analysts?” His forehead wrinkled as he turned to peer at me, forcing me to drop my arm from his shoulders. Apparently bored with the conversation, Buttercup trotted across the bed to settle near the foot.
“It’s not investment banking, precisely.” My voice came out cagier than I would have liked, so I tried for a brighter tone. “What do you know about coffee?”
“My stomach hates it these days, which is a damn shame because what you were saying a minute ago about happiness, that’s a perfectly pulled espresso shot. Single origin, hand-roasted, ideal temperature. Damn. I miss coffee.”
“You’re hired.” I grinned at him.
“To do what?” Worth stared back with no hint of a smile, but I was undeterred.
“Manage? Direct? Not sure what to call it, but we’ll figure out a title for you on the fly. And benefits. If you work for me and use this place as an address, we can probably get your health insurance sorted out, have something to tell the clinic in the morning.”
“You paint a nice picture, Sam.” Worth let out a huge yawn before flopping back onto the mattress. “I don’t want a pity job, but I appreciate how you’re trying to help. I really do.”
“Then let me help.” Not nearly done touching him, I reached down to touch his hand, but he pulled away, curling into a ball.
“In the morning. We’ll see in the morning.” He shut his eyes, tight lines appearing in the creases. The poor guy was exhausted. Which I’d conveniently forgotten during my efforts to get him to see that better days were coming. And they were, but right then, he needed sleep more than anything else.
“Let’s get under the covers,” I whispered, a line my teen self had rehearsed hundreds of times. Though in my fantasies, Worth had been more eager than docile. This Worth was wounded, not unlike poor lost Buttercup, who was already snoozing at the foot of the bed. I gently arranged Worth on his side under the puffy white comforter before I flipped off the lights.
I kept myself perfectly rigid on my side of the bed. This had been a terrible idea. How was I supposed to keep from sleep-cuddling Worth? Worth, who smelled like my soap and let out little huffy breaths that made it impossible to ignore his presence. My arm continued to tingle with the memory of holding him, and I dug my elbow into my ribs to keep from reaching for him.
“Sam?” Worth’s voice was a sleepy whisper that sounded like a roar to my racing brain. “Could you…? Never mind.”
“What? Anything.” Foolish. So foolish. But if he asked me for a kidney, I’d at least entertain the notion.
“Just…come closer? It was kind of nice earlier, your arm… I liked not being alone tonight.”
“Oh.” My heart broke yet again for this man. Worth had been alone for so long. I scooted as close as I dared, close enough to feel his warmth but trying not to overly take—