Tequila, Tequila

I was going to do it. I was determined. I would tell him tonight, here at dinner, that I was attracted to him and had a girly little crush on him, but it wasn’t going to get in the way of my job or affect how I was able to do it.

I was going to be an adult about this situation.

He had to know that my crush was why the fridge incident had bothered me.

I took a deep breath and finished my wine. We’d been long done with our food, and the clock was creeping close to eight-thirty. Between dessert and talking about anything and everything, from school to family to TV shows, the time had quickly passed.

It made it harder to actually tell him that I felt this way. I knew him on a personal level now. I knew that he’d graduated from college with a business degree and been an intern for his dad since he was fourteen, moving onto a paid position when he was eighteen, then to the place he was at now where he was in control of the business even though he didn’t own it.

I knew he loved Game of Thrones, couldn’t stand The Bachelor, and his favorite ever movie was Rocky Balboa.

We’d just…

Inner teenage girl sigh.

He was still my boss. I felt like he was my friend now, to an extent, and that was clearly the professional relationship he wanted us to have. That’d been clear from the start, actually. Sharing lunch, eating breakfast with me—he’d always tried to forge a friendship, and I was happy about that.

Cameron was such a bright, warm person that it was easy to be comfortable around him. More than anything, I wanted to work for him. And to do that, I had to be honest with him about how I was feeling.

That was the adult thing to do.

Clearly, my little miss sunshine act hadn’t fooled him at all.

I sipped my wine and rested my hands on the table. “Can I tell you something?”

Cameron looked up from the bill, curiosity shining in his blue eyes. “Sure. What’s up?”

“Uh…” I paused, fidgeting with the edge of the napkin in front of me. “What I said earlier wasn’t entirely true.”

“Are you telling me you don’t actually like Harry Potter? Because that could be the nail in the coffin for this.”

I laughed, somewhat nervously. “Oh no, you can pry my love of Harry from my cold, dead, hands. I just—earlier, when we talked about the fridge incident.”

He slipped his credit card into the leather wallet that held the bill. “What about it?”

“I was so embarrassed because I have a crush on you.”

I swear, he froze right at the same time I did. I hadn’t meant to just…vomit it out like that.

I swallowed hard and met his eyes. “I am extremely attracted to you,” I continued. “So seeing you in the kitchen like that was really embarrassing for me. It just reiterated the awkward way I feel about you, and I would really like if we could never speak of this. Ever. Never.”

Slowly, Cameron pushed the leather wallet to the edge of the table, briefly dropping his eyes from me.

Regret pulsed through me.

Why had I said it? Why hadn’t I let it go?

“Well, that explains the overly happy person this morning. By the way, that freaked me the fuck out.” He looked at me. “Don’t do that again.”

My lips twitched.

The server came and took the leather wallet, much to my relief.

“Was that the thing you wouldn’t tell me earlier?”

I nodded. “I didn’t think it was appropriate.”

“What changed your mind?” He looked at me thoughtfully. There was no judgment in his eyes, just genuine, gentle curiosity.

“Clean slate? I don’t know.” I twirled the wine glass between my fingers. “You said we’d have to revisit it, so I thought I’d get it over with now. Besides, I want to be honest with you.” I let go of the glass and sat forward, then quickly sat back.

Sitting forward only reinforced my boobs, and that wasn’t exactly helpful in this situation.

“It’s not going to affect anything,” I said quickly. “It’s just what I said—attraction. It’ll pass. It won’t affect my ability to do my job.”

“Hmm.” He accepted the wallet back from the server and thanked them. “Are you ready to go?”

I hadn’t expected him to say he felt the same as I did, but the way he’d brushed it off still bugged me a little. I wasn’t hurt, per se, but I was annoyed. He hadn’t even acknowledged it.

“Yeah,” I said. “Let’s go.”

I gathered my purse from by my feet and double checked that I had everything in there. I did, so I stood, pushing my own chair back in.

I was feeling too slighted by his outright dismissal of my feelings to care if he wanted to be a gentleman. And damn it, I’d open my own fucking car door, too.