The One I Want

While I’ve been pretending we can actually be friends, the temperature has risen between us. I feel it, and I have a strong suspicion she does as well.

I’ll still do just about anything for this woman even without knowing much about her. She’s good. Her heart, her energy, and her intentions. In the short time I’ve known Juni, I’ve become an expert witness to it.

I’d kiss her if she asked, take her out if she wanted.

Whiskey has built my confidence.

But it’s as though I can see her clearer than I did in the office or even in the park. She hides more than she thinks I realize. While I pour a glass of wine for her, I say, “You can tell me anything.”

She comes into the kitchen, her fingertips tracing the charcoal veining on the top of the white stone counter. Stopping on the other side of the island from me, she rests her middle against it and says, “I live alone.” She makes it sound like a sentence she’s completing.

I slide the wineglass toward her, thinking this might be good timing. She probably needs something to take the edge off whatever’s hanging over her head.

Taking a drink, she keeps her eyes on mine even when she sets the glass back down again. “I’ll be twenty-six in two months, and I’ve never had a full-time job.”

Not wasting the opportunity, I ask, “How do you survive? How do you live in the city?”

“My parents died when I was seventeen.” Her tone isn’t offish or cold; it’s factual. Damn, that’s heartbreaking.

And now I feel like shit for pressing her. “I’m sorry.” I can’t imagine what she’s had to go through. It’s easy to get caught up in the dynamics of my family—the good and bad, the ridiculous and stress that comes with being the kid of a highly respected couple. But I have Cookie and Corbin through it all. I don’t want to think about a day when I won’t.

“So am I.” She takes another sip and then exhales a deep breath. “They had made a lot of money and had life insurance policies.”

My mind goes to finances. It’s my comfort, the place where I’m at my best. This is a damn nice neighborhood. My apartment went well above eight mil. If she lives nearby, that explains how she can afford it.

Why’d I ask that? Well, I know why—I let my curiosity overrule my mind. I deal with money for a living. Privacy is important in my business. But mostly, I had no right because she’s not my client. “I shouldn’t have pried. My apologies.”

“It’s okay. It’s not a secret that I can hide. It’s a fact in the public domain. I’m not trying to keep things from you, Andrew. I’ve just learned to protect my heart.”

“I won’t hurt you, Juni. I know that sounds like a line, but I want nothing from you other than to know you better.”

“I can’t promise you the same. I’m as skittish as an alley cat. But being friends means trusting each other. I haven’t done that, though I’ve expected it from you. That’s not fair.”

It’s a thing of beauty when her protective wall finally descends, exposing her heart. I reply, “Friends means honesty.”

She nods. Picking up her glass, she taps it against mine. “Being friends means we’re on equal footing.”

While she drinks to that, I remind her, “I’m your boss.”

“Not outside that office, you’re not.” An eyebrow raises in challenge, and there’s that fire she carries inside her eyes.

“Touché.” I tap her glass this time. “To equal footing. Outside the office,” I shoot right back.

“I’ll drink to that.”

We both do. Her spirits have lifted, and although the wine could get credit, I’m hoping it’s the conversation. Wandering through the living room, she ends up where I was before she arrived. It has the best view. You can see down the avenue in both directions and the sky above. “Andrew?”

“Yes?”

“If I tell you something, will you not make fun of me?”

“Why in the world would I make fun of you?”

She searches my eyes for a lie, but her expression eases. She appears satisfied not to find one. “Juniper.”

“Juniper?” Juni. I’m grinning too wide to hide it. “That’s your first name?”

“It is. You didn’t look at my file?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you can.” There’s a remorseful pause, but then she giggles, and that pulls her pretty features away from shame. “Sorry. I would have snooped. Anyway, yep, I’m Juniper Jacobs. It’s quite the testament to the love of alliteration” That’s what I thought.

“It’s a good name.”

“If you love trees, which my parents did. Did you know that in some cultures, the juniper tree represents enduring potential?”

“That’s a hefty expectation to live up to as a baby.”

She rolls her head but is still smiling. “Tell me about it.”