Page 86 of My Office Rival

JASON

Iwas so proud of her. She was reaching out, grabbing what she deserved, and getting out of the hellish firm life she hated. I couldn’t help the hand that rose to cradle her jaw, couldn’t help the soft expression on my face while she held my gaze. I was sure she could read every emotion in my eyes.Let her see. I was so nervous. I’d never done this with a woman before. Most of my encounters had been fun, frisky, meaningless. Romance? I had no idea how to do that. But from her slightly dazed expression, I thought I might be doing okay.

Tell her now.I opened my mouth to speak. “Cynthia, you’re amazing, I—”

“If I take this job, I’m leaving,” she said at the same time.

The words died on my tongue.

“What?” My voice was rough. “What do you mean, you’re leaving?” She couldn’t leave. She loved New York.I want you to love me too.

“The position is temporary, but it’s in Texas. The office is in a small town near the border.” She looked serious and sad.

I was frozen, dread coursing through me. I could go with her, maybe.If you can bear it.If she even wants you to go.

“How small?”

“As small as Booth.”

My stomach clenched. The words to offer to go with her were on the tip of my tongue. My whole body rebelled, and I clamped my lips shut. I couldn’t. I couldn’t give up the anonymity of the city. Small towns were filled with prying eyes and secrets. And what if they found me again? I sucked in air.

“I thought you loved New York,” I replied roughly. What I really meant was,I thought you felt this too.But she didn’t. She was leaving. She wasn’t inviting me to go with her, wasn’t declaring she loved me. This was all one-sided, and I was an idiot.This is what you wanted, remember?

“I do love New York, and I’ll be back. I need to take this chance, though, for me.”

“I see.” My voice was quiet, and her lips twisted as she scanned my face. “I’m happy for you,” I said woodenly, wishing I meant it.

“Thanks,” she responded, her eyes shadowed.

She didn’t believe me.You need to fake it.I didn’t want her to know how devastated I was, and I didn’t want to ruin this for her.

I pasted a smile on my face and bumped her shoulder with mine. “So the cornfields really did it for you, did they?”

Her lips tilted a little at that, and her expression cleared. “Believe me, I’ll miss New York every single day.”

“Let’s toast. This calls for celebration.” Each word made my stomach dip. I’d never been faker than I was now. She raised her glass in response.

“To the most brilliant woman in the world,” I said, my voice hoarse. “You deserve all this and more.” We clinked glasses, and I drank, feeling like a fraud. I wanted to throw my glass against the wall, get down on my knees, and beg her to stay. Instead, I calmly put the glass back on the table and asked her if she had ever been to Texas.

I tried to be as normal as I could for the rest of dinner. The pounding of my pulse was loud in my ears. But I cracked jokes, asked her about thepro bonomatters she had worked on at the firm, whatshe would miss most about New York, and I thought she bought the act.

We finally finished, and she went to change out of her travel clothes. I loosed a shuddering sigh that had been building for the entire meal. The walls were closing in, the air was too thin.

Even though I had just finished eating, I needed a run to clear my head, to erase her.

“Cynthia, I’m going out for just a few minutes,” I yelled.Running, always running.

Outside, my stomach sloshed and rolled as I eased into a jog. The night was cool on my heated face, and I tilted my head up to the sky. Each footstep took me farther from the house, from her, and I hated it. Was this how it would be when she was gone? This gut-wrenching, heart-stopping sickness? This was the reason I only did one night. Everyone left. The women who had come before, my parents, everyone. And now her. Right after I showed her all my secrets. I stumbled but narrowly avoided falling.It was happening again.Freak.

The dark thoughts dogged me as I ran, feeling ill from my dinner and the inevitable end. The run didn’t clear my head the way it usually did. No, when I mounted the steps after a few miles, I still dreaded and anticipated seeing her.

When I pushed open the door, she was there, on the couch, achingly beautiful with her wild red hair and her dark eyes. I stared for just a minute before she turned toward me. Oh, she lookedangry.

“Running again, Jason?”

“I needed to clear my head,” I said shortly.

“You needed to clearyourhead.” She stood in a rush. “What do you have to be so upset about?”

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