Page 78 of Runaway Bride's Guide to Love

That makes me smile. “Sure, let’s go with that.”

I look up and do a Simon check, and we’re still in the clear. His feet are kicked up on his desk, cell phone on his desk on speaker mode. He looks like he could talk for hours.

“So,” I begin. “How do you want to navigate this?”

Emmett leans forward, hanging his head and resting his elbows on his knees. I internally yell at myself for missing his touch when he pulls back. “I’m usually not a fan of elaborate lies and secrets—I motherfucked Simon when he pulled what he did with Charlie—but I think that’s our best play.”

“I agree,” I say. At least, my head agrees. My body doesn’t, but it’ll just have to catch up. “And nothing is going to happen with us again, so there’s no sense in telling him about Florida.”

“Exactly. We’re two adults. We can be in a room together and not tear each other’s clothes off.”

Speak for yourself, Cap…

“Plus, I’m only in the office a few days a week,” he continues. “We can behave and not be weird about what we shared.”

“Weird about what?”

Emmett and I both jump at the sound of Simon’s voice as he walks back toward us.

“Oh nothing,” I say, though I can tell my tone is oozing with suspicion. Adding to the suspicion is Emmett looking everywhere but at Simon. “Just weird that as of a few weeks ago we’d never met and now we’re coworkers.”

I don’t know where that came from but I want to pat myself on the back.

“Crazy how things work,” Simon says. “I have a good feeling about this. Like it was all meant to happen.”

Simon gives Emmett a pat on the back and me a kiss on the cheek before exiting the building, I’m assuming to go next door and drive Charlie crazy at the diner.

“We can do this,” I say. “We’ve got this completely under control.”

“Completely under control.”

I move to sit at my desk, only to run into Emmett, who’s trying to walk away. I don’t know where he was going, but now we’re just standing here. Staring. His chocolate brown eyes are burning into me. Our bodies are touching, and I’m pretty sure I’m feeling something else, though I could be imagining it. Or hoping. Not sure which one.

I bite my lip out of habit, needing something to keep me from jumping into his arms and kissing the hell out of him. His breathing is picking up, and I bet if I look down at his fists, they’re clenched.

I don’t know if makes me feel better or worse that he’s struggling with this just as much as I am.

But one thing I do know—this is going to be hard as hell. And I’m not just talking about Emmett’s dick, which I’m definitely not imagining.

“I need you to walk away, Stella,” he says in his low, growly tone.

If he wants me to leave then he needs to stop using his sex voice. “Why?”

“Because if you don’t, then I’m going to toss you on this desk and fuck you for anyone walking by to see. And I’m not going to regret it one fucking bit.”

Oh…well then…

Swallowing the rather large lump that suddenly appeared in my throat, I do as Emmett asked and walk toward the back of the office. My feet pick up speed as I end up racing into the bathroom and slam the door shut.

“Dammit, Stella…” I say to myself as I lean against the door, suddenly struggling to catch my breath. “What are you going to do?”

“To fucking your cabana boy boss!”

I shush Andi at her fake toast. I don’t know anyone here—that I know of—but the way she puts it makes it seem very strange.

“He was never the cabana boy,” I say as I play with the stem of my martini glass. “He was…Cap.”

I don’t know how else to describe him to her, and I know my use of his nickname doesn’t help that. I’ve tried and failed a few times to truly talk about what Emmett did for me in Florida during this emergency girls’ night. Maybe a few more martinis will help.

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