“Don’t be afraid to ask Pierce for help too. And he can be… Well, he’s actually quite good at teaching when he lets himself.”
I think about how much he could teach me in the bedroom. With those deep, soulful eyes and commanding voice, I’d do anything he asked and more.
A shiver runs up my spine, and I feel my cheeks heat.
Before Lior notices my blush, Noah pulls him away from our conversation to go home. I watch as they say goodbye to everyone, followed swiftly by Lex and Emery and then Adam and River.
I try not to feel jealous that my cousins have all found such amazing partners, when I can’t even find matching socks without causing a laundry room catastrophe.
As I excuse myself to go home, Uncle Jack stops me. “I hope I don’t need to tell you that your mom would be very proud of you. She was taken from us too soon, but you know she’s watching over you from wherever she is, right?”
I nod. The knot in my throat gets tighter at the mention of my mom. I miss her every day. Some days I wish she hadn’t had the operation that was meant to save her life, but instead ended it.
“Okay. Well, I’m sorry for today. I promise the next family meal will be less eventful, and maybe next time, you’ll let me leaf through that sketchbook of yours.”
My cheeks warm again as I think about the Pierce portfolio that started after our first encounter. Not all my sketches are suitable for public viewing.
“Maybe sometime,” I say as I hug my uncle. And maybe, definitely, a different sketchbook.
Aunt Carla joins us, pressing a container of leftovers intomy hands. “For later. And for Alli.” She cups my face in her hands, the way she’s done since I was small. “You come back soon, yes?”
“I will, Aunt Carla.”
“Good boy.” She kisses both my cheeks. “Now go home and draw something beautiful.”
Today felt like a whole week, but despite my father’s best efforts, the love of my family stays with me much longer than thoughts about him.
8
PIERCE
The first stickynote catches my eye before I even reach my office door—a flash of pink against the glass.
There’s also a doodle of a sun.
It’s earlier than my usual start time, and Thatcher is already in the office. Well, somewhere in the office because he’s not at his desk. I take in the notes, to-do lists, and containers with various colored pens and highlighters. Thatcher really is like no one I’ve ever met before.
Before I think too hard about why that mightbe a good thing, I grab the sticky note and go inside my office. A second note greets me as I approach my desk. This one is written in blue ink and sits atop a stack of files.
A tiny smiley facepunctuates the message.
When I open the file, I find a third note, featuring a snowflake wearing sunglasses.
And a fourth one with a snowman holding a steaming cup.
Laughter outside the office grabs my attention. I look up to see Thatcher walking with purpose toward my desk even as he waves at someone else in the office, a confident smile on his beautiful face.
“Here’s your coffee, boss,” he says, placing the steaming cup on my desk. “There’s a new barista, and he had to remake it twice to get the foam density exactly right, but I supervised the whole process. No explosions, no floods, not even a minor coffee-related incident.”
“Thank you, Thatcher. This is great.”
I lift the cup to my lips and take a sip for no other reason than to hide the smile that threatens to leak out. I can be nice to Thatcher, but I can’t show that I find him intriguing, interesting, or sexy as fuck because something tells me that, as professional as he claims to be, he’d get on his knees for me if I asked.
He disappears back to his desk, returning moments later with a tablet held like a shield of professionalism. “I’ve reviewed your schedule for today,” he begins,swiping through the screen. “You have the board presentation at two, but I noticed several conflicts in the morning lineup.”
I raise an eyebrow, curious despite myself. “Conflicts?”
“The marketing meeting at ten overlaps with your conference call with the Tokyo office,” he explains, highlighting items on his screen. “I took the liberty of speaking with marketing, and they’re happy to move to eleven-thirty. And I’ve blocked off your lunch hour.”
