When in reality, I'd had sex with my assistant—my twenty-four-year-old assistant—on her desk in a hospital office where anyone could've walked in.
Young enough to be my daughter in another life and still completely impossible to resist.
I felt deeply ashamed of myself and at the same time, I felt like a teenager who just got laid for the first time.
Ember Harrison was on fire, and her body felt incredible.
I couldn’t remember a time where a woman was so responsive to my touch.
It made me feel like a king or a god that I could make her go twice with so little effort.
I was a bit chuffed.
"Dr. Bradley!" A woman in a red apron waved at me from near the stage.
I recognized her from yesterday—the festival coordinator with the clipboard. "We're so glad you're here. We'll be starting in about ten minutes."
I nodded and made my way toward her, weaving through clusters of families.
A few people recognized me and offered congratulations on the Lightkeeper appointment.
I shook hands and smiled and tried to ignore the persistent voice in my head telling me I was a fraud.
The coordinator thrust a program into my hands. "You'll lead the crowd in the first carol, then light the unity candle at center stage. After that, you and your Hearthkeeper will move through the rows and help attendees light their individual candles. It's all very straightforward."
"And my Hearthkeeper?" I asked, trying to keep the nervous tension out of my voice. "Has she arrived?"
With no point of contact between us, I feared that I had ruined everything and that she had run off to hide, never to be seen again.
Or maybe to be seen again at the back end of a sexual harassment lawsuit.
That thought made my throat constrict.
The coordinator glanced at her clipboard, then scanned the crowd. "I haven't seen her yet, but I'm sure she'll be here soon."
I wasn't sure of anything.
I thanked her and moved toward the side of the stage, positioning myself where I could watch the entrance to the square.
Volunteers were setting up the sound system, testing microphones and adjusting speakers.
I shrugged the crimson robe on over my suit, fastening the clasps at my chest.
At least it wasn't a thousand blazing degrees out here with the sun going down, but July wasn't being merciful to the city this year.
Still, with the amount of anxiety I felt, I was grateful for the extra layer to hide any sweat rings for now.
I checked my phone for the dozenth time and I shoved it back into my pocket after seeing no missed calls or messages.
This was fine.
I'd done public events alone before.
I could manage one candle lighting ceremony without her.
And if I never saw her again, why would it matter?
She had been in my life for three days and it'd be easy to move on—much easier than moving on from past women.
