“I’m glad you didn’t know.” She throws her hand over her mouth, as if she’s trying to stop herself from saying more, but she whispers, “I wish you’d never known.”
I try not to care, but it stings. I want her to let me in, let me closer, and she wishes I didn’t know about her past. A reminder of those lines she drew, Jackson. Employee. Friend. Nothing more. “Please don’t find a new job—at least, not because of what I said to Ethan. You’re truly irreplaceable.”
“Can you look me in the eye and tell me you aren’t employing me out of pity?”
I don’t hesitate before meeting her eyes. “I’m not employing you out of pity. I gave you your first interview out of pity, sure, but I hired you because I believed you’d be an asset to the company. I asked you to take this position because I believed you’d be an even bigger asset here. And you are. You’re damn good at your job, and if I have my way, you’ll work for my company for a very, very long time.”
“So wishing you’d never hired me was about me, not about the company?”
About you. About me. About us. “I shouldn’t have said it like that when what I really meant was that I wished things had turned out differently—easier for you.”
She smacks my arm. “Damn it, Brayden. I’ve been sick with stress thinking you don’t want me.”
The problem has always been that I want you too much. How can she not know that? But I shrug. “I guess if you’re going to eavesdrop, you need to stick around and hear the whole conversation.” But if she had, she’d know how I feel. That would scare her away, and if having her anger directed at me the last two days has taught me anything, it’s that I don’t want to scare her away. I’ll take whatever Molly has to offer.
Molly
Brayden is always working.
I knew he put in a lot of hours, but I never would have guessed how much trouble he has turning off once he’s home for the night.
I poke my head into his home office and find him exactly where I expected: in front of his computer, a notepad to his side. “Do you want to join us for dinner?” I ask. He’s been tiptoeing around me since our talk last night, and I want to smooth things over. Make things easy between us again. “Nothing fancy. Just oven fries, chicken, and maybe a simple salad.”
“Oh, hey. Sorry, I guess I forgot I have company.”
I smile. “I don’t expect you to entertain us, but I thought you might want to take a break to eat something.”
“That sounds great. Let me shut this down, and I’ll come out and help you.”
“No need. You’re giving us a place to stay. The least I can do is make you dinner.”
He clicks his mouse a few times then stands, frowning as he takes in my Jackson Brews shirt—the new design he hates. “Oh, Lord, the brothers,” he mutters. “What does that even mean?”
I laugh. “Fishing for compliments tonight, are you?”
His lips twitch. I catch myself holding my breath as I wait for one of those rare smiles, but it doesn’t come, so I have to settle for the twinkle of amusement in his eyes. “Only if you want to give them.”
“Go ahead and pretend that the women in this town aren’t all crazy about the Jackson brothers. Y’all are smoking. Everyone thinks so.”
“Everyone? And what do you think?”
I shrug. “Objectively speaking, I’m surprised women don’t combust when you’re all in the same room. Especially at the gym.” Because at the gym, they get sweaty and shirtless and . . . Holy shit, I could lose hours of my day just appreciating the view of a sweaty, shirtless Brayden. The promise of that view was the only thing that made me turn toward that special hell on earth this morning instead of coming back home for another cup of coffee.
“All of us? Not one of us in particular?”
I snort. “You’re really shameless, aren’t you?”
He studies me. “Maybe I noticed you checking out Carter at the gym this morning.”
I roll my eyes. “I was not checking him out. I was glowering. Jesus. That man tried to kill me. Again.” Today was my third day and the worst yet. We started with heavy back squats—which were killer on my sore quads and glutes—and then did a workout with kettlebell swings, jump rope, and walking lunges. I thought it was going to be easy, since the weights were light. I was so wrong. “These workouts had better make me hot fast, or I’m going back to being a sloth.”
“Now who’s fishing for compliments?”
“Oh, shut it. The scale isn’t lying about those sales rep pounds.”
He drags his gaze over me slowly, over my breasts and down to the fitted yoga pants I pulled on when I got home from work, all the way to my toes and just as slowly back up. My skin tingles beneath my clothes, as if every cell is raising its hand and asking to be inspected next. When he finally meets my eyes, he opens his mouth, but before he can say anything, Noah barges into his office.