Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 103030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
My feet stop swinging. “And now?”
He blows out a breath. “And now I’m not sure what the fuck is going on with him.”
If Oliver were a friend, if he were Lisbeth, I would know what to say. I’d offer an explanation—midlife crisis, maybe?—and a possible solution—have you talked to him? I’d also make sure my friend knew it wasn’t their fault.
But Oliver isn’t my friend. He’s my boss.
“What?” he asks.
I give him a curious look. “I didn’t say anything.”
“No, but you were thinking something. What was it?”
“I was just thinking … I don’t know how to respond to that—to what you just said. Do I offer you my sympathies and tell you that it isn’t your fault? Do I suggest reasons for his behavior? I mean, I work for you. We aren’t friends.”
Despite the fifty words I spoke, only three of them seem to hit us. We aren’t friends.
Oliver recoils from the statement, looking vaguely hurt. I flinch from the taste of them too.
It’s true‚ we aren’t friends. So why does that sound so cumbersome?
“That was rude,” he says with a compressed chuckle.
“You know what I mean.”
He peers at me for a long moment. “I think we should be—friends, I mean. Wouldn’t it make things easier between us?”
I force a swallow down my throat. “I don’t know. Would it?”
“My brothers are my friends, and it’s easier to work with them than anyone else.”
That makes sense. But I’m not sure if it makes enough sense to override the warning flares being shot by the logical section of my brain.
He sighs. “Look, Shaye. I’m going to circle back to the whole honesty thing, okay?”
I nod warily.
“I’ve felt like you and I could be … friends,” he says before clearing his throat, “since you ran into me with your car.”
“I ran into your car with my car.”
He laughs, his eyes twinkling. “I don’t want to stifle our … rapport with each other by stuffing us into a professional box.” The laughter wanes, but the smile stays. “Sure, we need to be professional. But I want us to be honest and open with each other. Who knows how well we’ll work together if we allow ourselves that space?”
A bolt of energy races through me as I absorb his words. I know what he means. People who get along and can trust each other do work together better. I’ve seen it in action. But there’s an edge to his words that slices through the rational side of me. It bleeds into the irrational, the illogical side. That’s the side that is reading way too far into things.
I squirm. “Okay. Yes. Friends it is, then.”
“Friends it is.”
He grins. I think he wants to say something else, but he doesn’t.
My phone buzzes next to me. “That’s my reminder to take the trash cans at my house to the road for the morning.”
He stands. “Let me walk you out.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I tell him, but my body fills with a warmth that’s so hot it almost makes me wiggle.
“Some fresh air will do me some good.”
He flashes me a wide, disarming smile as we head for the door. All I can do is smile back.
Fourteen
Shaye
Ding!
The elevator doors part, and Oliver and I step inside.
“Don’t think that I don’t realize how you sidestepped the question about who you are as a person,” he says, shoving a hand in his pocket.
“Did I?” I bat my eyelashes at him. “I didn’t realize.”
He bumps me with his elbow as the doors close. “Sure you didn’t.”
I fight off a physical reaction to the contact. “Our conversation just kind of went in another direction. How is that my fault?”
The elevator wooshes as it lowers us to the parking garage. I hope the sound and motion distract him, but it doesn’t.
“You don’t like talking about yourself too much, do you?” he asks.
“There’s not a whole lot to talk about.”
I stare straight ahead, waiting for the ping that will announce our arrival. It will be a good diversion.
Unfortunately for me, the sound rings through the elevator car, but Oliver is undeterred.
“I highly doubt that, Shaye,” he says.
A gust of wind barrels through the parking area. It’s so strong that it catches me off guard. I take a step, but the wind takes advantage of my momentary imbalance and knocks me to the side. I land against Oliver’s arm.
Instantly, his arm goes around me. His hand cups my waist, steadying me with his sturdy grip.
It all happens in an instant—before either of us realizes what is happening.
My gaze flips up to find his already pinned on me.
The heat of his gaze steals my breath, the intensity of his touch silences me.
I can’t pull away. I can’t lean into him. I’m frozen in an awkward-yet-not-awkward position that I can’t do anything about.
I’m electrocuted—held to the spot by an invisible connection that has my body lit up from the inside out. It’s been so long, so incredibly long since I’ve felt anything like this. All I want to do is close my eyes and pause time; enjoy being held without the weirdness that will ultimately come from this errant step.