I knocked a few times and sucked in a shaky breath as I waited.
“Come in,” Jay’s muffled voice came from the other side of the door.
I walked in and I immediately saw his eyes widen a bit in surprise.
“Hope,” he said. His announcement of my name was enough to showcase his surprise at seeing me so early.
I took a few steps inside, then closed the door behind me.
I held up the binder. “Why did you give me this?”
He stood from his desk, came around to the front, and leaned against it with his arms coming up to cross over his chest. He wore dark blue scrubs that day, and they made his navy eyes appear deeper blue than usual.
“I thought you’d like to read the unfinished manuscript. Was it not good?” If he was playing coy, he was doing well at keeping it subtle.
I struggled to find words. After staying up reading and then struggling to sleep, tossing and turning all night, my brain cells weren’t working like normal.
“No. That wasn’t it. It’s a freaking masterpiece. But you gave me your mother’s manuscript, and I’m just trying to figure out why you’d do something like that.”
He pursed his lips, uncrossed his arms, and placed his palms on the edge of the desk.
“There wasn’t an ulterior motive, Hope. I just thought you’d like it, so I gave it to you.”
“How could this not mean something, though? It’s your mother’s manuscript—an unfinished manuscript, something no one else in the world has seen. You gave it to me even though you have negative connotations to your mother’s writing, and it just feels?—”
“Feels like what, huh?” he asked, his voice lowering a tad. His eyes narrowed almost tauntingly, daring me to say the words.
“Intimate, okay? It feels too intimate,” I spat the words out before I could swallow them.
“Do you want me to take it back?”
“No!” I let out a frustrated noise, and the sound brought that ridiculous half-smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
“I just want to keep things?—”
“Professional. I know, Hope. I am keeping things professional.”
“But this—” I gestured to the manuscript again.
“It's a bunch of words on paper, Hope. Nothing more,” he said quickly, before I could prattle on. “You’re reading too much into it.”
“Me? I’m reading into things now?” My eyes widened.The audacity this man had.
He muttered something in Spanish under his breath. “I have kept my distance. I’ve been nothing but professional toward you.”
He shifted from his position on the desk, taking a step toward me. The energy between us suddenly felt charged—like if I lit a match, something might catch fire.
“If you recall, I said we could drive home from the hotel the other day when there was only one room left. You said we should stay.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but he continued.
“It was you who asked me to stay with you in that bed.”
He took another step toward me.
“And it’s you who’s inflating this simple gesture I made into something more than what it is.”
I scoffed and shook my head. “You?—”
