Window Shopping

Hopefully.

“Did you say hello to Jordyn or anyone?” I half-whisper, the restraint between us thin enough to be slashed to ribbons by a decent gust of wind. “Upstairs, I mean?”

He exhales, shifts in his seat. “No. I started to head over when I arrived, but I didn’t want to stop everyone mid-conversation. Or make everyone tense. They have to be on their best behavior all day. No sense in forcing them into it after hours, too.”

“What?” I scan his face to make sure he’s serious. “You’re not that kind of boss, Aiden. If anything, you’d put them at ease.”

He nods, but he clearly doesn’t believe me. “Thank you, Stella.”

“I really mean it, though.” This is crazy. In my need for this man to understand he’s wonderful, my heart is pounding. What is happening to me? “You really don’t think your employees would enjoy getting to know you more?”

“Not everyone likes my Aunt Edna stories, Stella.”

“Well, they’re wrong.”

“I mean that as kind of a metaphor. For…” Absently, he gestures to himself. “This. Me. Sometimes people just want to complain. They don’t feel like they can do that around me. Take Leland—my assistant. Sometimes I haven’t even said good morning yet and he tells me to stop judging him.” I’m deep in a fantasy about giving this faceless Leland a swift kick in the ass when Aiden continues. “Thing is, sometimes I want to complain, too. Want to just give in and call it a bad day. It’s just that…back when I had a lot of those, the positivity is how I learned to cope.” His brow furrows. “Now I don’t know how to do anything but lean on it.”

“Even when you’re unhappy,” I say softly.

“Yeah.” I move our joined hands into my lap and he watches it happen. Swallows hard behind his collar. “I don’t enjoy being unhappy, so I ignore it.” His gaze lifts, tracing my features in the near darkness, streetlights hiding and revealing his face at intervals. “For the record, I’m the furthest a man can get from unhappiness right now.”

Goosebumps tickle to life along my arms, warmth pooling in the lowest region of my belly. “Good. I’ll try and keep you that way tonight.”

“Me first,” he says thickly.

Our uneven exhales mingle in the warm backseat. The sexually deprived part of me wants to climb onto his lap in this moment, but there’s an even more compelling desire to dig deeper into what he’s telling me. To know Aiden better. It’s like a gasoline tank has sprung into existence inside of me and until it’s full of Aiden facts, I’ll be running on empty. “When are you unhappy?”

He starts to talk, stops. Lets out a husky chuckle. “It’s even hard to admit it out loud.” I squeeze his hand and he transfers our joined grip to the hard slab of his thigh, the pad of his thumb rubbing circles on my knuckles. “Vivant was in trouble around five years back. My grandfather had passed and they were getting ready to close the doors. I’d made some money on a side business down in Tennessee, while I was still in school. Did I ever tell you Uncle Hank was a beekeeper? Well I went door to door selling that honey in mason jars until we had enough capital to package it properly and buy into trade shows. We sold out and it went from there—”

“Hold on.” I press a hand to my chest. “I’m still picturing you ringing doorbells in your bow tie. You must have made a killing.”

Aiden winks at me. “You’re not wrong.”

“I bet the local girl scouts were beside themselves.”

“There were some toilet papering incidents. A few surly eyes. But eventually we carved out territories to make it fair.”

I’m back to wanting to crawl into his lap. Maybe tuck my head under his chin and press an ear to his throat, so I can hear the timbre of his voice right at the source. Settle down, Stella. “Okay, so you’re taking the honey industry by storm…”

“And a few years after I graduated from State, Hank and Edna are able to pay off their mortgage and buy a second vacation home down near the Gulf.”

In the midst of this story, Aiden unhooks my seatbelt and pulls me into his lap sideways, dropping his chin onto the crown of my head. I let it happen in a daze. Is he…a mind reader? I don’t have time to pursue that line of thought, because he’s speaking again and the burr of his voice is vibrating down the side of my neck, making each and every one of my nerve endings sing an aria. Oh this. This is way too perfect. I’m melting like hot butter on a plate.

“Around that time, Vivant was getting ready to declare bankruptcy. I’d never had a close relationship with my father or grandparents, apart from yearly visits and phone calls. But they needed my help. I came to New York thinking I would buy into the family business…” He shakes his head, messing up my bangs in the process. “I don’t know, maybe I was a young idiot who wanted to be a hero. To be the kind of son they wouldn’t ever consider sending away. In hindsight, I made our relationships worse. Now they resent me for coming in and turning the ship around. And I don’t know any other way but to try and make them happy.”