Page 24 of Protected By My Best Friend's Brother

Beside the timeline chart:This color-coding system helped them see the pattern immediately. The same pattern that took Brighton’s team three meetings to explain.

And at the end, a simple question that hits me like a physical blow:Do you really want to become what Brighton already is instead of being what made Walker Enterprises special in the first place?

“You look like you’re attempting rocket science.” Sophie appears in my doorway, wearing a smirk, which means she’s about to make my life more difficult. “Or trying to figure out how to talk to Emma without spontaneously combusting from repressed feelings?”

I quickly close the email, not ready to discuss Emma’s midnight manifesto with my sister. “I’m arranging a team recognition event,” I say with all the dignity I can muster. “The market analysis division has cut our implementation timeline by two months.”

“Uh-huh.” She saunters in and perches on my desk, her skepticism evident in every line of her body. “And this has nothing to do with Emma walking around looking like someone kicked her puppy since you went all Corporate Robot on her? Even the R&D team noticed. They normally don’t look up from their sustainability algorithms.”

“I haven’t—” I start to protest, then catch her knowing look. The memory of Emma’s careful formality these past days flashes through my mind - the way she skirts around me in hallways, how she keeps her eyes down during meetings, the absence of her usual enthusiastic interruptions when she has an idea. “I’m maintaining appropriate professional boundaries while we navigate a critical development phase.”

The words sound hollow even to me, and Sophie’s expression makes it clear she’s not buying it either.

“Right. Because nothing says ‘appropriate boundaries’ like staring at her office every time you walk past.”

“I do not.”

“Or reorganizing the break room so all the coffee cups are on the bottom shelf where she can reach them without stretching her tiptoes.”

I feel heat creep up my neck. I thought no one had noticed that particular adjustment. “That’s just good safety protocol.”

“Or asking me three times this morning if I thought she looked tired and whether she’s eating enough while working late on the Project Phoenix integration specs.”

I snap my mouth shut on another denial. Sophie’s right, and we both know it. I’ve been trying so hard to keep my distance that I’ve overcorrected, turning every interaction into a formal business exchange. And Emma...

Emma stops smiling when I enter a room. The woman who used to light up at the sight of me now looks like she’s bracing for impact whenever I approach. I did that to her with all my “corporate formality” nonsense.

“But since you’re determined to be difficult about this,” Sophie continues, pushing off my desk and heading toward the door, “I should mention that Emma’s presenting the new implementation timeline to the team in five minutes. She’s found a way to accelerate our sustainable technology integration while reducing development costs.” She pauses at the doorway. “Try not to strain anything maintaining your ‘professional distance’ while she does that adorable thing where she gets excited about revolutionizing the entire energy sector.”

She’s gone before I can respond, leaving me with an unfinished email and an uncomfortably accurate assessment of my situation. I glance back at my screen, thinking of Emma’s late-night email challenging me to remember who we really are.

Maybe it’s time I stopped hiding behind professionalism and remembered that myself.

***

I make my way down the hall to the conference room, my mind still buzzing with Emma’s email and Sophie’s observations. The usual Friday morning chaos swirls around me—phones ringing, keyboards clicking, the familiar hum of a company in motion—but all I can think about is what I’m going to say when I see her.

The conference room is full when I arrive. Emma stands at the front, fiddling with her presentation remote and carefully not looking at me. She’s wearing the blue dress that matches her lucky presentation remote and her hair is doing that soft wavy thing that makes me want to run my fingers through it.

I take a seat near the back, feeling my chest tighten as I watch her prepare. Despite everything, something about seeing Emma in her element still captivates me - the focused precision as she arranges her notes, the subtle confidence beneath her nervous energy.

I’m being professional. Even if her midnight email is still burning in my mind, challenging me to remember who Walker Enterprises really is - who I really am.

“Good morning, everyone,” Emma begins, her voice only slightly wobbly. “I’ve prepared an updated timeline for the Johnson implementation, considering the board’s concerns about resource allocation and sustainable technology development schedules. By integrating our new efficiency algorithms with their existing systems...”

She clicks the remote, but nothing happens. Clicks it again. Still nothing. A familiar flush begins creeping up her neck - the same one I’ve seen countless times when technology betrays her.

“I’m so sorry, I just need to...” She presses buttons randomly, the flush intensifying. “Technology usually loves me. Well, except for that time with the copy machine.”

I’m moving before I can stop myself, crossing to the front of the room. Every step feels like a choice - a rejection of the carefuldistance I’ve been maintaining, and reclaiming the natural connection we’ve always had.

“May I?”

Our fingers brush as she hands over the remote, and I feel the contact like a current running straight to my core. Up close, I can see the tiny constellation of freckles across her nose and the way her eyes widen slightly when I lean in to check the battery compartment.

“You just need to...” I pop the back open, flip the batteries, and click the button. The presentation springs to life, revealing her color-coded timeline that shows exactly how we can revolutionize sustainable energy analytics months ahead of Brighton’s schedule. “There.”

“My hero,” she whispers, then blushes harder as she realizes what she’s said. “I mean, thank you, Mr. Walker. It was very helpful of you to assist with the technical difficulties.”

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