Stepping inside, I close the door behind me.
“We need to talk about what you saw.”
He pulls back the cuff of his jacket and looks at his watch before fixing me with an appraising look. “Wow, it’s only been three minutes. That was a little fast, old man. Should we be worried about you?”
“Davis, I’m serious.” I take a seat across from him and cross an ankle over my knee. “This isn’t one of your little office flings.”
“No,” he drawls. “It’s yours, and that, my friend, is far more interesting. I knew you were doin’ her, but at the office?” He almost looks impressed.
“Do I ask a lot of favors from you?”
He shrugs. “Eh. Once a year to keep me on my toes.”
“I’m asking you to do me a favor and not say a word about this – to Rowan or to anyone else, in the office or otherwise.”
“Well shit,” he says, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. “Do you actually have real feelings for this girl, Fowler?”
“She’s—” I hesitate, “refreshing. And she’s been through a lot, so I don’t want to see her hurt by office gossip. This is— she matters.”
“Alright,” he says with a nod. “But you owe me some information.”
I spend the next twenty minutes telling him how the hell I got myself into this mess, how I fell in love with my twenty-fucking-one-year-old assistant, and how it got so out of hand so quickly.
For the first time in years, he doesn’t make comments or jokes about the situation, even when I skip over the details I know he’s dying to hear, because I don’t want to say anything that would possibly embarrass Rowan further if any of this conversation got back to her. She’s already had enough embarrassment today, and I’m sure I didn’t help with that when I fucking scolded her.
As I recount the events that brought me to this moment, realization slams into me like a ton of bricks, knocking me off of my feet. I am so fucking in love with this girl – and I am absolutely terrified to lose her.
Though I know in the back of my mind that I have, up to this point, done everything exceptionally wrong, I can’t say that I would do it any differently, given the chance. Well, any of it except for what I said to her in my office. I would handle that a thousand different ways, if I hadn’t been in a panic myself. I wanted to protect her, and wound up hurting her – again. Failure is not something I’m used to, and it isn’t sitting well with me.
THIRTY-FOUR
Rowan
Pulling down the sun visor in my car, I slide open the mirror to inspect my eyes – red and bloodshot, my mascara clumping my lashes together and a haze of black coating my lower lids. Great. I’ve always wanted to look like the unstable girl who not only passes out on the clock, she has screaming, crying breakdowns in her car on the clock, too.
I toss the visor back up with a groan and pull my plastic container full of salad onto my lap, then open the lid and stab my fork into it. I have no appetite, but I need to eat, and being on my lunch break is a great excuse to not be available to Colt if he calls or texts.
I don’t get how he can be so much older and still so stupid, all at the same time. Aren’t older men supposed to have a certain level of maturity to them?
Apparently this one didn’t get his share.
A series of hard knocks at my window make me jump, and I almost throw the salad to defend myself, which would just be the icing on the crap cake that is today.
Emmett leans to look into the car with a smile and motions for me to open the passenger side door, which I do. He climbs in, carrying with him a huge fast food bag and acoffee cup that looks big enough for seven people to drink from. He must get that from his dad.
“Why aren’t you in the cafeteria?” He asks. When I turn to look at him so I can answer, his brow furrows. “Whoa, hold on. Were youcrying?”
“Just having a really crappy day,” I say, brushing off his concern. When it’s clear that answer isn’t satisfactory, I add, “Guy problems.”
Guy problems like, I fell in love with your dad and when he whisked me away on a romantic vacation, I settled into the belief that we were in a relationship and that maybe he loved me too, and now he wants to keep me as his dirty little secret mistress. Or even worse, just a toy to take out and play with when he gets home.
He digs through his bag to pull out his meal, getting it situated on his lap, using the bag itself as a makeshift place mat. He’s definitely done this before – and here I was, thinking he didn’t even know what a drive thru was.
“Same guy who was giving you problems before?”
“Yeah.”
“Wanna know what my dad always says?” He asks, popping a fry into his mouth. This ought to be good. Deepening his voice to mimic Colt’s, he continues. “’Don’t let someone tell you who they are, Emmett. Make them show you.’ What did I show you when we went out?”
