I’ve put on weight since returning home, which is a good thing. I hadn’t realized how much I’d lost while following Rowan around the country. We weren’t living on any kind of normal schedule. We’d often be up all night and live on nothing butsugar and alcohol. Many others had a mix of drugs to add to that as well, but I never went there. I knew my limits and stood firm with them. But the whole experience still took its toll on me. It took months for me to get back into a normal kind of routine. I guess living in Vegas and working nights prior didn’t help, either. I’d had no idea which way was up.
Unwilling to step out of this room with so much exposed skin, I find a loose-fitting tank and throw it over the top of my bra. It doesn’t do all that much—its slashed neck and wide arm holes mean there is still plenty to see—but I feel better with that sliver of pale skin between my top and bottoms covered.
I pull my hair back into a sleek, high ponytail, and then apply some more sunscreen to my face. With my sunglasses propped on my head, my sneakers on my feet, and my cell in the side pocket of my shorts, I make my way out. As soon as I step into the kitchen, the sound of the front door opening hits my ears, and my stomach somersaults.
Any confidence I found in the guest room drops out of me, and it only gets worse as his footsteps thump against the wooden floor.
My heart races as I stand there frozen, waiting to see him.
The second he appears, all the air rushes from my lungs.
Did he get hotter?
He’s wearing a navy suit, or at least he was. Now his collar is open, his tie discarded, his jacket thrown over his arm. His hair is a mess, and he’s got more scruff on his jaw than usual. It could almost be classed as a beard. The circles under his eyes are dark, showing the toll the last few days have taken on his body, but it doesn’t stop his eyes from twinkling as they land on me.
“Hey,” he rasps.
It’s the simplest of greetings, and yet the deepness of his voice hits me right between the thighs.
Get a grip, Freya.
He’s your boss.
But it doesn’t matter how many times I tell myself this. What was a little crush on my hot boss is growing. Honestly, it’s becoming a little bit of a problem. I just wish I knew what to do about it.
“Hi,” I squeak, sounding like a nervous schoolgirl. My cheeks burn as he moves closer.
“You’re all ready to go, huh?” he says as his eyes drop down my body.
“Yep. There are snacks over there,” I say, pointing to the counter.
But he doesn’t even glance over, his attention stays firmly on me.
“I guess I’d better go and get changed then,” he states before marching around me and disappearing down the hallway, leaving nothing but the mouthwatering scent of his cologne.
While he’s gone, I make myself busy cleaning the kitchen and double-checking I have everything ready for dinner later.
“How was your morning?” he asks when he returns, wearing a pair of athletic shorts and a tank. Despite it only being spring, somehow his skin is already sun-kissed. His tattoos dance as he moves, and my eyes feast on the artwork, trying to identify all the images that meld together into one big piece. I bet there are some stories there.
“Y-yeah, good. You?” God, could I sound any more awkward? If anyone were listening, they’d think I’d never spoken to this man before.
“Yeah, you know. We were up early for our call time, then I spent too many hours on a plane full of smelly guys.”
I laugh. “I’ll tell them that the next time I see them.”
“Go for it. I’m sure they’ll say the same. Killer decided to spend the flight giving me advice on a subject he has no idea about.”
“Oh yeah, what was that?”
Something flashes in his eyes, panic maybe.
“Just work stuff,” he says a little too quickly.
I narrow my eyes, trying to read between the lines.
Were they…were they talking about me?
My head spins with possibilities, but I quickly shut it down. There is no way he was talking to one of his closest friends about me.
