What. The. Fuck?
“Who’s that?” she asks, and a prickle of uneasiness climbs up my neck. How am I supposed to explain why my boss is here, at my house, when Mia has no idea I even have feelings for him, much less what happened between us last weekend.
Her wide eyes turn to me when she realizes who it is. “Seems you’re keeping secrets again,” she hisses, and I shake my head, trying to convey I didn’t know he was coming and don’t know what he’s doing here. She must read it in my expression, because her accusing look disappears quickly off her pretty face. She turns back toward Winston and smiles at him as he walks up the sidewalk. “Hey, Winston.”
“Mia.” He dips his chin in her direction then focuses on me. “I’ve been calling you.”
“I know,” I reply. He’s been calling and texting me since the night Mike showed up at work, throwing his fit about the divorce papers. I’ve been trying to focus on my girls and the shit I learned yesterday morning when I told them about me and their dad, that I haven’t felt like checking any of my messages. And since Winston has his son this week and Jared wasn’t needed at home, Win wasn’t at work during my dinner shifts the last couple nights, so I didn’t even have to avoid him.
Mia looks between Winston and me, clearly wondering what is going on. It has to be obvious something went down, not only because she’s my sister and can tell whenever I’m keeping something from her, but because his expression makes it unmistakable that he wants to pounce on me. It’s just hard to tell whether if it’s to eat me alive or to shake me. And I realize I’m probably looking at him like I want nothing more than the first option when I see he’s carrying a paper bag from work, which means he came bearing food he knows I can’t resist. Bastard.
“We need to talk,” he states.
“No, we don’t,” I answer automatically.
“We damn well do,” he growls, and my pussy immediately grows wet.
My treacherous fucking body. Damn this man!
“We most certainly do not have anything to talk about.”
Because I’m weak for you. And if I give you a chance to talk to me, I’ll give in to what we both want, even though it’s wrong, wrong, wrong.
“You know that’s a lie, Cece,” he replies, his deliciously sculpted jaw ticking.
“Umm… what’s happening here?” Mia inserts, gesturing between us.
Winston turns his attention to her, while I answer, “Nothing.”
“Your hardheaded sister thinks I’m married, which I am fucking not,” he tells her, and I roll my eyes.
“You’re not?” She frowns, clearly confused, since I already told her he is. And I’m sure Talon did too.
“I’ve been separated from my ex for three years,” he explains, and I shake my head and cross my arms.
“Separated, not divorced, which means you are very much still married!” I cry, knowing damn well I’m only separated too, but at least mine is legally documented and I’m in the process of dissolving my marriage.
“By law only,” he replies, sounding annoyed.
“Yes, Winston, in the eyes of the law, you’re still married, which means you are married!” I toss my hands in the air, wanting to wring his freaking neck.
“Umm… I’m going to head out,” Mia says, and my panicked eyes turn to her.
“What?” I hiss, trying to reach out for her, but she dodges me.
“It’s obvious you two have some stuff to talk about.” She hurries down the steps before I can stop her. “Call if you need me.”
“I hate you!” I yell in a singsong voice.
“You don’t!” she calls over her shoulder, abandoning me.
I turn narrowed eyes on Winston. “What the hell are you doing here, Win?”
His nostrils flare. “As I said, we need to talk. You haven’t spoken to me since you left the other night after Mike showed up. I’ve been worried sick about you.”
Guilt creeps in, overpowering my need to keep away from the intense pull I feel toward this man. He’s done so much for me, not only giving me a job and then paying for my divorce, but he had my back when Mike came at me. It’s not fair to keep him in the dark about everything that’s happened since, when he’s the whole reason I’m able to start moving on with my life in the first place.
I sigh. “Fine. Come in. But I swear to God that better be Italian or I’m kicking you out without another word.” I turn and walk inside the foyer, continuing on to my kitchen and hearing him chuckle and close the door behind him.
“Your favorite five cheese lasagna and fresh garlic bread,” he answers, and I internally swoon.
I sit down on the stool I was on before, scooting my laptop out of the way but not closing it. He sees what’s on the screen when it wakes up, and then he reaches into the paper bag. “Looking for a smaller place?” he asks, since he was there, the one who caught me before I hit the ground, when Mike dropped that little tidbit the other night.