"I love you, Joss," he whispers into my mouth.
My eyes snap open, and I yank my hand out of my panties.
What the fuck?
The days before the wedding pass like a typical work week, except every time I see my employee, my heart hammers against my chest and my hands go clammy. I need to stop this shit. I'm too old for him, and I'm his boss.
Part of me wonders if I should just end this charade, but horror trickles down my spine when I imagine going to my cousin's wedding alone. The idea of how that would play out stops me from ending our fake fiancé arrangement.
When it's time to close on Friday, Brando helps me check that the windows and back door are locked. As we step outside and I lock up, he says, "You know what I just realized?"
"What's that?"
"We haven't come up with a story about how we met," he says as he steps past me out into the chilly February evening air.
"Oh, crap. You're right. I guess when we drive up to the lodge, we can come up with that tomorrow," I say.
"Sounds like a plan," the dragon shifter says, shooting a crooked grin at me, which makes my panties instantly wet.
5
Brando
Staring at my curvy boss, I watch her look around our shared hotel room with a dumbfounded expression.
Turning to me, she tosses her purse on the couch and whines, "I swear I booked a room with two queen beds."
"It's alright," I say, putting my suitcase next to the couch. "I can sleep here."
"I can't ask you to do that. You're a hulking dragon shifter for one," Joss blurts out, and I watch her cheeks redden before she continues. "Plus, you're doing me an enormous favor. I'll take the couch."
"Well, just tack this on as part of the favor. It's really no big deal, I swear."
Joss opens her mouth to argue, but her dark brown eyes fall upon the clock above the fireplace.
"Oh, shit. We need to get ready for the rehearsal dinner," she says, jumping to her feet and throwing her suitcase onto the bed.
"But you're not in the wedding, right? We're just going to the rehearsal dinner?" I ask, nerves beginning to pool in my gut now that our ruse is becoming a reality.
"No, thank the goddess of weddings, but they do expect me at the rehearsal dinner," she says, clearly dreading the meal.
Looking at her, I lightly squeeze the back of her arm.
"We've got this," I say.
Joss swallows a gasp as electric warmth spreads through me from touching her, and says, "Yeah. We've got this."
Joss's family may have thick cuts of steak in front of them, but I am the fresh meat at the table. I don't think I've had two bites in a row before a family member or their spouse asks me a prying question about my life.
I didn't realize how difficult it would be for me to remain polite to people who, within just the last hour of meeting them, have managed to insult Joss at least three times with veiled misogynistic jabs. The dragon in me wouldn't mind shocking them with a show in the hotel's restaurant, but I force myself to behave, at least until this moment when Joss's Aunt LynnDee fixes me with her eyes and loudly says, "You're awfully young for our Joss."
My eyes snap over to my curvy boss, then back to her aunt. I hadn't even thought about that possibly being an issue. The two of us didn't come up with a plan or a way I could comment on it. She's more than a decade older than me, but it's never crossed my mind. The woman is fun to hang around with and an absolute knockout. That's all I'm focused on.
"Well?" I hear her aunt's voice cutting through the noise in my head.
"Sorry, Aunt LynnDee. What did you say?" I ask.
"I asked you if the age difference bothers you," she says, icicles dripping from her tone.
