She clutches her briefcase like a shield and makes a beeline toward me, but even from several feet away, I see the nerves threading through her polished exterior.
Guess she doesn’t know how to act around me either, which I hate to admit makes me feel a tad better.
Okay Landry, time to stow these emotions for Kiki at a safe distance. Like Saturn.
I grab my hard hat from the truck and nod toward her feet with a scowl. “Those shoes are a ridiculous choice for a job site.”
Yeah. Maybe not the most civil opener.
Kiki glances down at her heels and shifts her foot from side to side, which only gives me a better view of the long, smooth lines of her legs.
I’ve had those legs wrapped around me. Explored every inch of them with my hands and mouth. I know how they feel, how they taste.
Thanks for that memory, brain.
“I just… I wanted to look nice,” she stutters.
“This is a job site, not a fashion show.” The guilt hits me immediately because I’m not that guy, that rough, wizened asshole who snaps off whatever the hell he feels, regardless of who it might hurt.
Not even with her.
I turn and walk into the main foyer before glancing over my shoulder.
Kiki trails a few steps behind, picking her way carefully across the once-grand entrance, which now lies beneath a blanket of broken glass and debris.
Last thing I need is her breaking a bone on day one. Jesus.
“Come on,” I say, offering my elbow. “I’ll lead you through the melee.”
“Thank you.” At first, Kiki’s grip is tentative, as if she fears touching me might burn her. But when she missteps, instinct takes over. She latches on, one hand turning into two, her briefcase swinging against her hip as she steadies herself against me, tucking herself in close like she used to.
For one stupid second, I bask in her warmth, and the memory of what it felt like to hold her without all this emotional distance between us.
But that was then, and this is now.
I shift, offering my other arm to steady her, giving her a second to find her footing before I glance at her feet. “Told you those shoes were ridiculous.”
She smooths her hand down the front of her suit jacket and releases a strangled laugh. “You’re right. I should have known better. But I figured since we were meeting Mr.Montague today, I wanted to look the part. Not that I even know what that part looks like anymore.”
No. We’re not going there. Doesn’t matter what she did to me—the woman needs to believe in her work.
I hook a finger under her chin, tipping her face up until she meets my gaze. “You’re a hell of a designer, Kiki Wilder. You’ve already impressed the hell out of him. That’s why you’re here. The suit is just a bonus.”
Her lips twitch in a tremulous smile. “Yeah, and if I wind up with a broken ankle in the ER, that’ll really put the icing on the cake for the morning.”
“Let’s not tempt fate by saying that aloud, okay?”
“Fair enough.” Even though she’s steady on her feet again, her fingers remain curled around my arm.
Everything about her still feels natural. Right. But I need to maintain my distance, or I’ll never stand a chance of moving on from her.
I peer down at her hand. “I think you’re safe now.”
She drops her arm with a nervous titter. “Sorry. Force of habit.”
It still could be, Kiki, if you hadn’t dumped me.
There’s my good old pal anger again, bubbling just below the surface. I wonder if it’s ever going to fade away.
