How could a man that incredibly attractive not have a spouse?
"The Lightkeeper committee rules." I pulled out my phone and scrolled to the document I'd bookmarked earlier. "I wanted to know what they could actually do to you. What authority they have."
His eyebrows rose. "And?"
"According to their bylaws, a Lightkeeper can't be forced to resign without documented proof of misconduct that directly violates the community values the position represents." I read from the screen. "Misconduct is defined as criminal activity, public intoxication, or behavior that brings demonstrable harm to the reputation of the festival organization."
"Dating my assistant doesn't qualify as misconduct under that definition," Nate said with a smirk, and then he said, "And I've got the best assistant on the planet. Very thorough."
I ignored his latter comment and said, "Not technically, no. They can pressure you and make it uncomfortable. But they can't actually remove you unless you break one of those specific rules." I set my phone down. "I thought you should know that."
He reached across the table and took my hand. "Thank you for looking into that. For taking the initiative."
His touch was so gentle, I had to smile at him.
Being in public without being scrutinized felt nice.
It made me begin to believe that we could actually have something going more than the fling, especially after the way he'd been so compassionate lately.
"I figured someone needed to know what we're actually dealing with." I squeezed his fingers. "The whispers and the gossip are awful, but they're not grounds for removal. As long as we're not breaking any actual rules, they have to let you serve out the term."
"Which ends on Christmas Eve," he said.
"Four months." I calculated quickly in my head. "We can survive four months of scrutiny."
"Can we?" His voice was quiet, his thumb tracing circles on the back of my hand.
It was like he was asking me personally if I was going to be okay with it. I didn’t know what to think but I would sure try.
"I think so. I hope so." I met his gaze. "I'm tired of running, Nate. I've been running for two years, and I don't want to do it anymore. That situation with Brad just made me flighty."
The server appeared with menus, and we reluctantly pulled our hands apart to order.
I chose pasta with roasted vegetables.
Nate ordered the same, adding a request for bread to start. When the server left, we settled back into our conversation easily.
He told me about a medical student who'd fainted during a surgery observation that morning, hitting the floor hard enough to need stitches.
I laughed at his description of the attending physician's exasperation, then shared a story about one of the nurses who'd accidentally sent a complaint email about the cafeteria food to the entire hospital staff.
The conversation flowed naturally from work to personal territory.
He asked about my college plans and my career path, and I felt like he was genuinely interested.
"I think about it sometimes," I admitted. "I was studying human resources when everything fell apart. I'd always wanted to work in organizational development, helping companies build better workplace cultures."
"That's impressive," Nate said, "and ambitious."
"I used to think so. Now it feels distant. I dropped out before I could finish my senior year, and starting over feels overwhelming." I broke off a piece of bread and buttered it slowly. "But maybe someday. Once things settle down and I have more stability."
"You could finish here," he suggested. "Boston has excellent programs. And if cost is a concern, the hospital has tuition assistance for staff who want to pursue relevant degrees."
I looked up at him. "You're serious?"
"Completely. You're talented, Ember. You have instincts for managing people and systems that most human resources professionals spend years developing. If you want to finish your degree and work toward becoming head of HR, I'd support that."
I let the idea ruminate in the back of my mind while I savored a bite of the bread. "Head of HR for the hospital?" I could get used to the sound of that.
