"Thank you." I clasped my hands in front of me, using the folds of my robe to hide the evidence of my arousal.
"I wanted to go over the schedule for the next few weeks." She pulled out her phone and began scrolling through a calendar, though her voice became a monotone droning sound as she ticked off all the events I was expected to attend.
I was barely listening.
My focus was split between maintaining appropriate eye contact with the director and trying to will my erection away through sheer force of determination.
Neither effort was particularly successful.
"Are you all right?" the director asked, tilting her head.
"Fine. Just a long day at the hospital." I shifted my weight, adjusting the robe again.
"Well, we certainly appreciate your making time for these events. The community is thrilled to have you as Lightkeeper. You're exactly the caliber of man we want representing Beacon Hill's values."
Her words felt like accusations because I was standing here with an erection I couldn't control, still tasting Ember on my lips, while this woman praised my moral character.
"I'm honored to serve," I mumbled, but it twisted the guilty knot in my gut.
The director continued outlining responsibilities and dates while I forced myself to pay attention, to nod at the appropriate moments, to ask clarifying questions when necessary.
But my mind kept drifting back to Ember, still hidden between the booths, waiting for enough time to pass before she could emerge without raising suspicion.
This was insane.
I was supposed to be above reproach, a respected physician, a leader in my community.
And here I was, unable to control my own body's response to a woman young enough to be my daughter.
If this got out, the press would have a field day and my father would probably cut me out of his will.
5
EMBER
Sunday morning startled me awake with the stomping of feet on the steps and the distant sound of someone's alarm blaring through the thin walls in my apartment.
I lay in bed for a moment, staring at the ceiling, trying to get my bearings.
I slept through my alarm, but thankfully, it wasn't a work day.
And though it was my day off, I noticed three missed messages from Dr. Bradley this morning, choosing to ignore them.
I finally dragged myself out of bed and into the shower, letting the hot water ease the tension in my shoulders.
Today was the community decorating day—all the tenants had agreed to chip in and clean up the building. I'd volunteered weeks ago, before I got this job or any of this Hearthkeeper stuff cluttered my head space.
Now everything felt complicated.
I dressed in old jean shorts and a faded T-shirt, pulled my hair into a ponytail, and grabbed the box of cleaning supplies I'd picked up from the dollar store last week.
The building was noisy, which meant they'd likely already gotten started without my spray cleaner and sponges, but I figured it was better late than never, right?
My phone buzzed again as I headed for the door, so I glanced at the screen to see another message from my boss.
Nate: 8:23 AM: Good morning. Hope you slept well.
Any other time, I would think it was a sweet gesture, and Amelia would agree.
