Page 56 of My Office Rival

“So, what were you going to make?” He surveyed the kitchen like a general.

“Um, chicken salad? I found a recipe online, and it seemed doable.” I was stupidly nervous. I hated appearing weak in front of men, especially men in my profession. Better to be strong, untouchable.

“Do you want help?” He eyed me like he knew the answer would be no. Normally, it would be. I didn’t ask for help and I rarely accepted it when offered. But his eyes held no judgment.

“Would you mind? I’m honestly out of my depth. It would be nice to learn.” I gave him a tentative smile. He pulled out ingredients, directed me to cut celery, and started pulling the chicken apart.

We worked in silence for a while until he cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry about earlier. In the conference room. I was having a bad day.”

I startled. His head was down, but spots of red rode his cheekbones. “Well, you shouldn’t have taken it out on me.”

He finally looked up, and the apology in his eyes made me soften. “You’re right,” he said simply. “I shouldn’t have.”

“Apology accepted. That wasn’t even the worst thing that happened today.” I sighed. “I just got a call from my brother. My family is too much sometimes.”

“What are they like?” His voice was quiet.

“They’re quirky, but great. I mean, they’re a huge pain in the ass, but that makes them family, right?” He didn’t respond, just hmmed noncommittally.That’s right, he might not know what that’s like.My chest ached. “I have a younger brother who lives in California. Devon. He’s amazing but a total goof. I support him financially when he inevitably follows his latest dream. He’s an independent filmmaker and incredibly good at it, but it pays peanuts. My mom is the ultimate mom, except for the lack of cooking. She always fusses overus when we come home. And my dad isthat guyfrom Queens. He loves the Mets, works for the city, and has serious opinions on street food.”

“It sounds like you really love them.” I swore I heard longing in his voice, and I turned from my chopping.

He was whisking something, head down, shoulders tense.

“I do. They drive me crazy, but I love them.”

He didn’t look up at me. It looked almost like he steeled himself before he turned, his eyes dark.

“It’s not always roses, though.” Something in me was desperate to reach out to this man, to forge a connection.

“What do you mean?

“Well, my dad’s old injury is flaring up, and he might need surgery. I have to help. My parents have sacrificed so much for me and my brother.” I paused. Jason’s stare was heavy as he listened. “My family is amazing, but sometimes, the weight of family obligation becomes too much to bear.” As the words came out, I realized how true they were. I shrugged and looked away from him.

“Is it terrible to admit that I’m a little bit jealous?”

I looked up at him, surprised. “You’re jealous?”

“Yeah.” His lips quirked. “It sounds silly, given what you just told me, but I have no idea what it’s like to live for someone else. I’ve always lived only for me. Ever since I, ah, left home. It must be nice. I mean, at times.”

Pain lanced me in the chest. “I feel selfish for complaining.”

“No, please, don’t. It’s nice hearing about them. I just wish I knew what it was like.” He was so calm, so steady, still chopping away. I wanted to scream in his family’s faces, wanted to shake him and tell him I’d be that person for him. The words were on the tip of my tongue.What the hell?No, you won’t.

“Did you know your birth parents?” I asked quietly. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“I didn’t. Not really. I mean, I have flashes here and there, but they aren’t good.” He looked lost for a moment and then shook his head. “Most of what I know, I learned from my first foster family. I doremember being hungry, though. The neighbors had called the cops on my birth mother after twenty-four hours of listening to me scream for food.” He gave a tiny shrug. “Probably why I’m so obsessed with it now.”

My chest felt like it might crack in two at his admission. I put my knife carefully on the counter and stepped toward him. Before he could react, I looped my arms around his waist and pressed my cheek to his back. He tensed, then relaxed under me. I felt the soft thump of his heart and the vibration of his breaths under my cheek, and I squeezed him tighter, trying to show him without words that I would be there for him, even if others hadn’t been.

I pulled away and gave him a little smile. His eyes were slightly wide, his soft mouth surprised.

He considered me for a minute, taking in my face, my messy hair, my stupid oversized sweatshirt. His lips quirked at the saying on it. “New York or nowhere?”

I blushed. “New York or nowhere. Even if my family weren’t there, I’d still live in New York. It’s the only place someone like me can be accepted.”

He arched a brow. “Hot and dangerous?”

---