Total pages in book: 169
Estimated words: 161394 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 807(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 538(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 161394 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 807(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 538(@300wpm)
“Yes. She’ll no doubt call Travis and tell him all about it. He’ll probably wave it off, too sure that his world is in order and that I’d never fall for a woman. It won’t be until he hears about our second date that he’ll sit up and take notice.”
“When are we having our second date?”
“Next Saturday.”
“Same time, same place?”
“Same time, different place. One where other people who I know often eat.”
In other words, another pretentious restaurant. “I’d better tell my foster parents about our ‘relationship’ before our second date. The more time they have to get used to it before I announce we’re engaged, the better chance of them buying it. I can’t spring an engagement on them.”
He nodded. “You’ll also have to formally introduce me to them at some point. It might help if they see us together, looking happy and stable.”
“I hate that I’ll be lying to them. Won’t you hate that you’ll be lying to people?”
“No.”
I blinked. “Just no?”
He shrugged.
“I know your relationship with Travis is strained, but I got the impression that you get along well with Kent.”
“I do.”
“But you’re fine with lying to him?”
“My personal life isn’t his business. Why I choose to get married isn’t his business.”
Since just thinking about the wedding had the potential to give me indigestion, I changed the subject. “I take it you don’t want me to dress as your PA on our second date either.”
A phone pinged. He fished his cell out of his pocket. “No, I don’t,” he replied, his eyes on the phone screen as his thumbs tapped it like crazy. “Wear another fuck-me dress.”
I sighed. “It’s not a fuck-me dress.”
Chapter Four
Lifting her mug of coffee from the round patio table, Melinda blinked at me. “You’re dating Dane? Dane as in your boss Dane?”
The rusty wrought-iron patio chair creaked as I squirmed a little in my seat. “Yes.” I usually found it relaxing to sit in my foster parents’ backyard and listen to the sound of wood snapping in the firepit. Today? Not so much. Because I had to lie to them. I knew they’d be disappointed in me for being so unprofessional as to get involved with my boss, but I couldn’t tell them the truth.
I took a swig from my beer bottle, bracing myself for a “that’s not smart, you could jeopardize your job” lecture. I wouldn’t go on the defensive. Nope. Their concern would be well-warranted.
As if the dog sensed my tension, Ranger padded over to me. I stroked his short, coarse fur, becoming more and more uncomfortable as the silence dragged on.
I looked at Melinda just in time to see her shoot Wyatt a smug grin.
“Told you,” she taunted him.
I felt my brow crease. “What?”
Wyatt shrugged. “We’re not stupid, sweetheart. We worked out for ourselves that you two are interested in each other. I mean, you made it clear that he can be hell to work for at times, but you never once told us you were thinking of quitting.”
Melinda nodded. “When you first got the job, you told us not to get too excited; that he’d probably fire you after a week or so. Weeks went by, and you were still there. Those weeks turned into months, and those months turned into years. Unless there’s something I don’t know, he’s never threatened to fire you.”
“I’m good at my job,” I said.
“We don’t doubt that,” Wyatt assured me. “But we know our girl. We know you lose all tact if someone pushes your buttons hard enough. You can’t tell us there were times when you didn’t show him a little attitude.”
Okay, so I’d occasionally flipped him off or called him a rude asshole. But I’d come to learn that Dane wanted to have at least a few people who’d be honest with him; who’d see past the CEO title and not pussyfoot around him. Of course, if I’d ever showed him attitude in the presence of others, he’d have probably fired me on the spot.
“Wyatt said that you and Dane wouldn’t cross the platonic line,” added Melinda. “But I said it would happen eventually. There’s only so long you can fight what you feel for someone. So, who made the first move, you or him?”
I shook my head. “Oh no, I’m not giving you the ins and outs of how it all went down.” I’d tell them as few lies as possible. “But I will say that it’s serious.”
“Serious to you or to both of you?” she asked.
“To both of us.” I rubbed my arm as a cool breeze swept over my skin and rustled the dandelions and long grass. “I know you must be thinking it’s too soon for me to be sure of that—”
“No, sweetie, I’m not,” said Melinda. “You two have spent pretty much every day in each other’s company for the past four years. You might not have been sleeping together, but your relationship probably hasn’t been emotionally platonic for a while now. You’ve had a sort of workplace-partnership for a long time. If you care for each other, I can imagine it feels almost effortless for you to switch to a real partnership.” She squeezed my hand. “I’m happy for you, and I hope it works out.”