So I’m going to do what I should have done weeks ago. I clasp my hands between my knees and say, “Nash, I need to apologize.”
8
Nash
He needs to apologize? I’m the one who just tried to keep Brady from falling by groping him in my office.
Fuck, the shape of his ass... The muscle fit so perfectly in my palms.
But while I’m replaying the highlight reel, Brady keeps talking.
“I know you heard me. On the phone.”
“Brady, I—” I falter. His face is so serious, I can’t think of what to say.
“No.” He waves me off. “It wasn’t okay. In fact, it was hugely unprofessional. I shouldn’t have... Even if you hadn’t heard me, I should not have said it. I apologize if I’ve made things uncomfortable or”—his eyes rise to mine, making my breath still—“if I gave you the wrong idea. About me and... what I’m interested in.”
Oh. Heat floods my face, pumping over my cheekbones and around my ears. I did assume. Have I been that wrong?
But he kissed me back. In my apartment, he kissed me back. And what was that in his pants, if not interest?
Still, everything about his voice and posture, hunched forward like he’s been called down to the principal’s office, screams sincerity, and everything he’s said about what is and is not appropriate is true. Whatever this thing has been between us, it’s got no legs. A workplace crush, a desperate divorcé. We’re going to stop now.
“I understand,” I say, though part of it feels dishonest on my tongue. “Thanks for clearing the air.”
He nods, curly hair bouncing. “Sorry about the extender,” he says. “I’ll get a new one and bring it by tomorrow.”
I give the twisted antenna a wiggle. “There’s got to be a better solution than this thing.”
He gives a short laugh, upper lip curling, and in a heartbeat, he’s back to the Brady I know, instead of the uncomfortable serious one who is trying to do the right thing for both of us.
“Is this the part where you start nagging me about running miles of ugly cable through this office?” I say.
His grin spreads, loosening something in my chest. “Sometimes the old ways are the best ways.”
We argue about the cabling for a few more minutes.
“I can run it through the ceiling.”
“You can’t be trusted on a stepladder.”
“You can’t afford to keep calling me in to reconfigure your extenders.”
“We got approved for another operating grant. Name your price.”
The rhythm is familiar and comforting.
“How’s your phone?” he says. “Contacts all still there?”
I lift it, showing him the cable plugged into my laptop. “Battery’s charging too.”
Something wordless washes over Brady’s eyes, and for an instant, I’m sad. Because the thing that was happening between us was never going to be real, but for a few days it was exciting and distracting, and I’ll miss that.
“I should...” He jerks his thumb over his shoulder toward the door.
“Right,” I say, getting to my feet.
“You’ll have to find somewhere else to work this afternoon if you need the internet.” He pushes his chair back slowly.
