But I bet I’d sleep like a baby with those arms around me...
I brush the thought aside.
“You’re not my dad, Austin. It’s not your job to take care of me.”
“What if I want the job?” The way he’s looking at me makes my chest tighten and my pulse race. I can’t deny that part of me gets off on his overprotectiveness. But I won’t mistake his desire to look after me fordesire, period. He doesn’t want me the way I want him—the way I won’t admit to wanting him outside of my late-night fantasies.
Austin’s a good man. He deserves to be happy. More specifically, he deserves to be with someone who can make him happy.
That’s never been part of my job description.
“Too bad,” I tell him. “We’re not hiring.”