??s been wanting to become a certified dance teacher too does something to my subconscious that has me speaking before I even realize it.
“So, boss—” My voice is cheery and sweet. “What was that you said about me deserving a raise?”
Yolanda’s mouth falls open. “Boss? Are you the new owner?”
Kris nods and even feigns a little modesty even though I know he loves the attention. “Yes ma’am.”
I can almost see the dollar signs in her eyes. I half expect her to call her husband right now and request a divorce, then throw the phone to the floor and shove her tongue down Kris’s throat. I’m seething with jealousy, but I guess I can’t blame her because my tongue has been aching to do the same thing. Somehow, my mental mantra of Pull yourself together, Delaney finally works because I politely excuse myself and walk straight out of the dance room and to the front desk like a good employee who so does not like her boss.
The new pulled together Delaney lasts for about thirty-six seconds. I’m replying to a business email from our protein shake supplier when a sweat towel appears out of nowhere and covers my computer monitor. I plaster an annoyed look on my face, complete with an eye roll and sigh, and glance at the man behind my computer. His cocky grin sends a shiver down my spine.
“What ya doin?” Kris asks, removing the sweat towel and tossing it over his shoulder. He leans across the counter and quickly glances at the screen. “You better not be emailing your boyfriends while on the clock.”
I hold the annoyed expression and continue typing, although who knows if I’m actually typing real words anymore. “I don’t think you need to worry about that, unless the protein shake delivery guy is hot.”
“You mean Jerry?” he says. I’m not even looking at him and I can hear the smirk in his voice. “I met that guy. He’s old enough to be your dad.”
I shrug. “Even better.”
Kris’s arms stretch across the countertop until his fingers grab around the edge of it, just inches from where I stand on the inside of the front counter. He leans in on his elbows. “I didn’t know old and balding was your type.”
I meet his eyes now. “Nothing is sexier than old and balding.”
He laughs. “Oh how I’ve missed you these last two weeks.”
An unbelieving snort escapes my nose before my common sense can stop me. “Yeah right, Mister I’m Never at Work Even Though I Own the Place.”
His head cocks to the side. “Um, okay, Miss I Can’t Stand When My Boss Is Around.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “I’ve never said that.”
“You sure act like it.”
My brows knit together. I’m not sure if there’s a hidden meaning behind our banter—if our joking with each other is our way of admitting what we wish we could say, or if it’s just pointless chitchat between boss and employee. I could continue with the joke or say something honest, letting him know how I feel and risk the embarrassment of a lifetime if he doesn’t feel the same way. But something has to give because you can’t just make out in a public shower and then never speak of it again. Or can you?
Kris breaks the silence. “So I know I’m not nearly old enough or bald enough for you, but I’ve been thinking…”
My chest turns to ice in his split-second of hesitation. The realization of what he’s saying and the anticipation of what he’s about to say sends my heartbeat way past the fat-burning zone. My fingers are clammy on the keyboard and thank god I haven’t eaten anything in a while.
Kris’s voice shakes and his masculine face seems twenty years younger. “We should get together, outside of work sometime. And talk.”
“Talk?” My voice sounds dry and I swallow.
He rubs the back of his neck and all the cocky, arrogant masks he wears leave his face. “Yeah…like, talk and maybe get dinner or something?”
In this moment I know our jokes weren’t just jokes. Kris Payne feels what I feel. We can’t keep going on pretending we don’t have a past that isn’t resolved. The coldness in my chest melts into butterflies. It’s been thirteen days since make out day and this is my sign. I have to swallow again before I can find my voice to tell him yes.
Chapter 15
My hands shake as if I’ve drank the entire pot of coffee and not just the single cup that’s sitting still half-full in front of me. I try to focus on the book on my Kindle, but after reading the same paragraph three times and still not knowing what it says, I sigh and drop it to the bed. Kris is supposed to pick me up at six for our dinner and, whatever the hell else we’re supposed to do tonight. It’s 5:55 and I’ve been ready for an hour.
Cat sits at the foot of my bed, painting her toenails with a bottle of polish she found in my bathroom. “I bet you never in a million years would have imagined Kris Payne coming to your house to take you to dinner.” She caps the nail polish and wiggles her toes to admire her masterpiece. “I mean, it’s Kris Payne.” She says his name as if he were Jack the Ripper. “It’s crazy, huh?”
“Do you ever go home?” I snap, wondering why I haven’t already taken away her key to my house or at least installed some kind of deadbolt.
Her shoulders straighten in defiance. “Actually, I was at home all morning, planning your freaking birthday party so you can drop your little attitude.”
“You were what?” I ask. I’m turning twenty-eight this year, not thirty. There’s no reason to have a party, because twenty-eight isn’t some significant milestone.