Trouble

I’m glad to hear it, but I don’t say it out loud. I’ve shown enough of my cards for one night, and either way, her dating life is none of my concern. I don’t know why I even asked. I need to re-establish the space between us.

The song has changed, and now they’re playing slow-assed Clapton like every beach band on the planet. I preferred him when he was on drugs.

The rest of our party has returned to the table, where they’re laughing and joking as usual.

I glance down at her secure in my arms. I don’t know what to make of her—or me. “You’re different here.”

“Am I?”

“You laugh more.”

Her head tilts to the side, and I watch her consider this. “It’s my home. I’m with people I’ve known all my life. It’s familiar, I guess.”

“So why don’t you move back?”

“You sound like Daisy.” Her tone grows impatient. “I have no interest in moving back to the low-key, ‘What are you going to do with your life?’ all the time. No thanks, I’d rather have a root canal.”

“Is this coming from your mother?”

“It comes from everybody. They’re all wonderful when I’m here for a visit, but if I stay too long, it turns into nonstop pressure to either get married and have kids or to be the best whatever at whatever. No resting on your laurels in Fireside. It’s much easier to leave and be a failure than to stay and simply exist.”

Unexpected. “How old are you, Joselyn?”

She hesitates a moment, as if her age is something to hide. “I’m twenty-five.”

“You’re hardly old enough to be a failure at anything. Maybe they’re excited for your potential.”

“You couldn’t possibly understand. You’ve never had to work to prove yourself.”

A laugh breaks from my throat. “You have no idea what my life has been like. No one gets a free ride.”

Her chin drops, and she studies my shirt. “I keep forgetting I don’t know anything about you. I’m sorry.”

The song is coming to an end, and I slide a lock of bright red hair off her cheek. “No harm done.”

She glances up at me. “After Saturday, you won’t be my boss anymore.”

“It’s true. It will be the end of our professional relationship.” Grazing my eyes along her cheekbone, I confess, I’ll miss her. “What will you do then?”

“Back to building my client list, pounding the pavement.”

“If you need help, I write a pretty decent letter of recommendation.”

“I don’t know if a florist rec will help me, but if you know anyone who needs massage therapy or sports medicine, be sure to send them my way. Or if you ever need it yourself.”

“Done. I like having you under me.”

She gives me a naughty grin. “That’s not how I remember it.”

My eyes are drawn to her full lips, which are glossy pink tonight. Her cheeks are flushed, and I don’t miss the gentle rise and fall of her breasts.

Her ocean eyes are clear and curious. This little ember wants to melt her way through my walls, but it’s not an option.

Time to pour some freezing water on this fire.

“You’re right. We don’t know each other well, but I believe you’re an intelligent person. At least, it appears your memory functions properly. In my office I told you I don’t do relationships. To be completely clear going forward, what I meant is I don’t sleep with the same woman more than once. I do fucking. Nothing more.”

Her blue eyes slide to the side. “You do fucking. Now, where have I heard that line before?”