“Ruby.” My name gusted out of him. “If only I could show you how wrong you are.”
“It’d be a bad idea.” I had no clue why. It sounded like a fabulous option. He was supposed to show me what I’d been missing. Didn’t that include orgasms that weren’t an inconvenience?
“Yeah,” he said quietly, his gaze dropping from my face to my bare legs curled under me. “A bad idea. Messing around more would muddle things.”
More. Last weekend, we’d messed around. Because of me. He hadn’t wanted me to feel bad, but he also wasn’t looking to end his dry spell with me.
My pride wanted a little something. A tiny sign that said he might be going to bed as full of want and longing as I did, and it wasn’t from the scene he’d been reading. That it was from my presence. It was from the memory of last weekend and how nice it’d been to be kissed with heat and passion. That he couldn’t get over how easy it was to talk me through the fastest, hardest orgasm of my life. A sign that maybe a guy like him would seriously want to be with someone like me, and not just for sex.
I chided myself. Foolish delusions from the boring girl. He’d been more than tolerant after I’d crawled into his bed. He’d also been clear that he wasn’t looking for a real girlfriend or even a fling. Not with me.
“Exactly. Can’t get things confused.” I stretched my legs out on the couch and my hemline rode so far up my thighs my skirt might as well be off.
I wished Tenor was the one taking it off.
Fire simmered in the yellow of his irises, and he raked his gaze down my legs all the way to my toes. Then dipped his head and seemed to gather himself before handing me the book without looking at me.
“Thank you,” I said, taking it from him. The charged air between us was pulsating, but it had an undeniable awkwardness I didn’t like.
He nodded, and without touching his gaze to my body, he rose. An impressive bulge pushed at his zipper. He turned and adjusted his crotch like he couldn’t take one single step otherwise.
I opened my book, unable to resist prodding at the odd tension between us. “I’ll continue taking notes.”
All I got was a grunt and he went back to the table. I continued reading, pleased I wasn’t the only one uncomfortable.
CHAPTER TEN
Ruby
Horses grazed in the pasture by the barn closest to the house. Red and white chickens darted around on the other side by a cute shed. The shop doors were thrown open and camp chairs dotted the cement slab in front.
I was accustomed to being around the Baileys. Each one of them was essentially my boss, and after the first few months of employment, the worst of my timidity had worn off.
Today, it had roared back in full force.
Wynter pushed her pale, loose braid off her shoulder. “I’m glad you’re here. I always wanted to get to know you outside of work, but I don’t get to the Bozeman office like I used to. Now that I’m split between home and my office here, I don’t see you much at all.”
“It is nice here,” I agreed. I liked my coworkers, but the Bozeman facility didn’t have the hominess of the Bourbon Canyon location. It made sense. Copper Summit was a family company, and it had all started here.
“Are you sure you don’t mind working the wedding? You’re a guest. I told Tenor I didn’t want to dominate your time off.”
“Not a problem at all.” Even if Cara and I were close, I wouldn’t mind. “I look forward to it, and I even have some ideas. My email is ready to send tomorrow.” I didn’t want to dominate her off time either.
She tapped a finger on her can of root beer, her expression curious. “Was turning the wet bar into content your idea?”
“No?” Damn. I couldn’t sound more guilty. The last thing I wanted to do was overstep my place or make my boss feel like I’d outmaneuvered her. “I might’ve mentioned it, but it was in conversation only, when I was just rattling off ideas.”
She cocked her head. “You don’t do that with me.”
“I...” I swallowed. “I want to do what I’m told.”
She patted my shoulder. “I promise I’m not scary. I need to hear you rattle, and I want you to be comfortable saying, ‘Wynter, listen.’” She sighed. “In fact, when Tenor pulled up the numbers, I realized I’d been remiss. Our family is tighter than ever, and it’s coinciding with our numbers dropping. We’re coasting and we can’t afford to do that forever. So please, don’t just email. Give me a call. Tell me all your ideas.”
“I will, but you might regret it,” I said lightly, but inside I was squealing.
“I might regret it if I don’t listen.”
She didn’t hold my talk with Tenor against me, and she wanted to hear more. This weekend had somehow gotten even better.
