Back then, it was soft, harmless - a crush born from naive infatuation. But now? It was laced with heat, heavy with desire and oozing with the thrill of the forbidden. I didn’t know exactly when I’d become the kind of woman who secretly wanted her boss to sweep the papers she’d painstakingly organised off the desk and press her into it, the kind of woman who wanted to feel the weight of him on top of her while she sucked on his neck - but I had. And honestly, I wouldn’t even pretend to be mad about it because I could think of nothing other than grinding up against him until I saw fireworks in the sky and his name spilled from my mouth.
CHAPTER 11
Eva
ARNA
Coordinating our calendars is a minefield. But I refuse to give up. I’m dying to see you all, but mostly you, Evangeline. We need to celebrate. Can everyone share their availabilities?
FELICITY
I need to see the ring. Pleaseeee send us a photo already. Also, I’ll make myself available.
WINTER
They say emeralds are thought to improve your mental clarity and increase fertility.
ARNA
An EMERALD! Of course. Your favourite colour.
MARLEE
Well played, Coop. Well played. I am also free any timefor this.
EVA
Don’t you ladies have jobs?
My reply was so obviously avoidant that they each fired back replies calling me out - including Winter. Apparently, an engagement ring was her weakness and she needed a photo too.
Concern caused my brows to pinch as I wondered how I was going to get out of this one, matched only by my confusion. An emerald? I didn’t even have a ring, yet they spoke like one already existed. Coop and I had only discussed it in jest and now my mind was reeling with too many questions.
Just as I was about to silence my phone and go make a tea, another message came through.
COOPER
Keen for a break?
I’m hungry and could do with some fresh air.
Smiling, I grabbed my purse and headed out onto the floor, any thoughts of surviving on the half packet of mint slice biscuits quickly discarded. It was crazy to think about how easily we’d slipped into a new rhythm without even trying. Seeing each other at work felt natural, our interactions as easy as they’d always been. On days where he started super early, we drove separately, others we would carpool. My favourites though were when I was his personal backpack on the bike. Those mornings and afternoons allowed for an opportunity to bask in his comforting warmth and should-be-illegal scent - but they also left me feeling heated and needy.
The old connection, the one we had as kids, came rushing back without much effort. Over the last couple of weeks, we’d combine lunch breaks, or I’d sip tea while we talked, before drifting back to my tasks as if we were still teenagers conversing in between my homework sessions.
I told him how I’d worked odd jobs in cafes after finishing school, undertaken some reception work and even tried my hand in retail before finally deciding to study. I also confessed that nothing I’d done seemed to fulfil me, not really anyway. Pausing, before I accidentally overshared that wasuntil now. Until this job. I was finally working with something I loved. Something which kept my brain active and engaged - in the same way equations and numbers always had.
In response, he shared how hard it had been in the beginning after he decided to fully commit himself to the distillery. How some days felt too heavy, too much. The backend work of the business proving to be much denser than he ever planned. How he’d very nearly quit and taken a job behind one of the bars he knew my brother would eventually own. Not only because he and Seb always, in his words,spent more time bantering and mocking than working,but because it was easier. Not so stressful.
But his pride in what he accomplished was obvious when he was here, and I was a lucky quiet observer to how hard he worked. The unrelenting hours he spent with his employees, checking on his stock, wandering the aisles with a clipboard and a pen tucked behind his ear - often with no shirt on - as if discovering he was not only everything I remembered, but had grown into something so much more than that.
Our conversations were wide-ranging, but we never touched those small, intimate moments we’d shared. Never mentioned what it would look like when we had to slip into the roles of smitten kittens for an audience. If someone at work came near, he’d instinctively shift closer to me, never too obvious, never crossing a line. Just a brush of fingers, or a palm at the small of my back. A quiet kind ofcloseness.
And it was only on one occasion when he’d unexpectedly laughed at something I said and pulled me into a bare-chested hug when we were on the floor of the distillery, that I caught myself focusing on the heat of his skin. Basking in how ridiculously good his chest smelled, just a trace of sweat clinging to it. I eventually shoved him away with a playful grin, trying to shake it off, and he teased me quietly with a comment about how obvious it was I wanted him to stay shirtless all the time. The banter was easy - too easy. But beneath it, it felt dangerous. Banter laced with truth. At least, on my end.
When he saw me walking through the aisles towards him, his face lit with that boyish grin, like he couldn’t believe I was really here, and my stomach swirled.
“What?” I asked with a narrowed gaze.
