The voice blasts me out of the past and back to the present. I pull back so fast, I almost flip my chair.
“Sorry,” Rhys says, looking sheepish. “Did I startle you?”
“Just a little,” I say, trying to slow my wildly beating heart.
“What are you doing back here?”
“Oh, I’m just researching some stuff. Wasting time, really. I’m supposed to be doing inventory.”
“Oh,” Rhys says, coming inside.
I quickly close the book and stand up to divert him.
But why do I care if he sees it?
“I just wanted to invite you to lunch,” he says, his eyes flicking from the book back to me.
“Is Cassie still with Jean?” I ask.
“Yeah,” Rhys says. “All good there. She’s having a blast.”
“That’s great,” I say, taking a step towards him. “If you want to go to lunch, then—”
“No,” he says, looking past me again. “Well, I mean, yes, I do want to go to lunch, but I’m pretty interested in what you’re doing now. Don’t you want me to see the book? Is it like the Kama Sutra or something?”
“No,” I chuckle. “Seriously, it’s boring. Just a town log.”
“Okay,” Rhys says, shaking his head. “I’ll believe you.”
I look up at him, suddenly realizing how close we are.
Why did I want to keep him away from the table? Why should I care if he looks at a dusty old book?
“The dust in here is giving me a bit of a headache,” I say. “Let’s move to the next room.”
I turn to walk around him, and he grabs my hand.
“Why are you acting weird?”
“I’m not,” I protest, far too aware of how warm his hand feels on mine. “It’s just stuffy in here.”
I try to pull away, but he holds my hand tightly, and I get pulled back against him by my own momentum. As my body falls against his, Rhys bends his head down and takes a deep breath. Goosebumps rush across his skin—I can see them, racing up his arms and the back of his neck—and his fingers tighten on my hand. When I look up, his eyes are closed, and his lips are open, as if he’s savoring my scent.
His low, short breaths seem to vibrate through me, and the cool caress of them against my hot skin sends thrills running through me. Suddenly, I don’t want him to let go of me.
I move just a little, not sure if I’m trying to get away or get closer, and Rhys’s eyes snap open. The deep, liquid gold pools seem to swirl as if there’s an undercurrent inside him, stirring like a storm, and if I plunge into it, I’ll get dragged down and washed away.
I don’t care anymore!
The one part of our lives that has remained uncomfortable is our interaction with each other, and it only gets worse the longer this goes on. We both drop our guard, get close, then retreat again.
I don’t know how to keep doing this!
So… don’t.
“Rhys,” I whisper, his lips so close to mine. I want to say something sensible and then turn around and just go to lunch, trying to go on as we have been, but the moment seems frozen in time.
He shakes his head, very briefly. Shifting back a little on his feet, he tightens his fingers on mine. I rock forward againsthis chest, feeling his hot skin almost burning me through his thin white t-shirt and my blouse.
