“Jordan. Look at me, please.”
“No.”
“Yes,” he says, his breath tickling my cheek.
My eyes open. There he is, smiling softly at me. “There she is,” he says in a low, steady voice that makes my pulse settle.
In my chest, something clicks, like a lock opening. Something satisfying and right, like puzzle pieces sliding together. A perfect fit.
“Hi,” he says.
“Hi,” I whisper.
“I didn’t say those things because you’re not good enough.” His voice is barely above a whisper. “I don’t know which news anchor you’re referring to, but I can tell you for certain, that isn’t my type. That isn’t the woman I’ve been thinking about non-stop.”
I can’t look away from his eyes, so deep green and consuming. His expression is so certain. So steady. Like he’s got me. Like he’ll catch me if I fall.
“The fact that you think you aren’t good enough, Jordan—” He breaks off, shaking his head. “You’re fucking spectacular. Do you realize that? You’re amazing at what you do, both at the bar and with the team. You have an incredible affinity for figuring out howpeople fit together, more than anyone I’ve ever seen. You are so independent. Sometimes it’s fucking infuriating, that you’re so stubborn about accepting help, but then I remember you carved your own path with nothing and no one helping you. Do you ever take a second to think about how hard that was? You don’t, do you? Because there was no other option for you, but you still deserve the credit, because you made the most out of a shitty situation. And yes, you’re prickly. You don’t make friends easily, but look at what you do for the ones you have. Look at where you are, working for a father you haven’t spoken to in a decade, upsetting your whole life so they can keep theirs intact. And they don’t even know it.”
He studies me for a long moment, looking wistful and frustrated.
“They don’t even know what you’re doing for them. I bet you’ll never even tell them, will you? You won’t say a word. You’ll just go back to the bar and keep pouring their drinks and watching them celebrate without taking the credit you deserve.”
What’s this horrible, pulsing feeling in my chest? A mix of longing and loneliness, I think, because he’s right. That’s exactly what I’ll do.
“On top of all that, you’re kind. You pretend you aren’t but you are. You watched Bea when I needed you. You gave her advice about the kids in school. Yeah, she told me. You made her feel like there was nothing wrong with her. You made her feel good about herself, Jordan, and that alone makes you a goddess to me, because my child is my whole world.”
His hands are in my hair. When did that happen? I can hear my pulse in my ears, feel the light pressure of his fingers framing my face.
“Your mother would be proud of the woman you are, Jordan. I didn’t know her but I know that. Any parent would be.”
He searches my eyes.
“So no, it’s not that I don’t think you’re good enough. I think you’re the mostgood enoughperson I’ve ever met. I said you weren’t an option because I’m your boss. I’m trying to lead by example, and how’s that going to look if I’m messing around with a woman ten years younger than me who works for me, huh? What would that do for your career in sports?”
I open my mouth but he shakes his head.
“If you say you working for the team is temporary, Jordan, I—” He cuts himself off with a heavy exhale. “I don’t want to hear it right now. You know what I want for you? I want you to work for the team. Not just until the end of playoffs. Forever. Because I think this is where you belong.”
“I don’t?—”
“Don’t argue with me,” he begs, his eyes pleading. “Just saythank youfor the compliment.”
“Thank you,” I say quietly, and he exhales, pleased.
His fingers thread into the back of my hair, and he’s staring at my mouth.
“What are you doing?” Shivers run across my scalp, down my neck, down my spine as his fingers flex in my hair.
“I don’t know.”
“You just told me?—”
“I know.”
“We can’t.”
“I know we can’t.” He shakes his head again, looking half-outraged and half in awe. “I don’t know what it is about you that makes me lose it like this.”
