Page 36 of Most Likely to Deny Love

“What? It’s logical,” I defended myself to the dog, who just blinked slowly in response.

My phone buzzed again almost immediately.

That makes sense. And I guess our first date could have been dinner after work? Unless you have a better idea.

I smiled despite myself, imagining us on an actual first date. Would I have taken her somewhere fancy, or would she prefer something more casual? Would she laugh more openly outside the office, her eyes bright in the dim restaurant lighting?Jesus Christ, man, get a grip.

Dinner works. At that Italian place in town.

I hit send, then immediately followed with another text.

How are you feeling about Saturday?

Three dots appeared instantly, then disappeared, then appeared again. Finally, her response came through.

Nervous. Excited. Terrified. Grateful. All of the above?

Something warm curled around my heart at her honesty.

Don’t be nervous. I’ve got you.

The moment I sent it, I realized how it might sound. Too intimate. Too personal. I quickly followed with something more neutral.

What time should I pick you up?

Three dots bounced for a few seconds.

Around noon? It’s a half hour drive to New Bern. That’s not too early, is it?

Not at all. I’ll be there at noon.

I set my phone down on the coffee table, aware that I was smiling like an idiot at a simple text exchange. Pickles nudged my hand again, demanding more ear scratches.

“What am I getting myself into?” I asked him quietly, even as I imagined seeing Mia on Saturday, away from the office, in a place where I could hold her hand and touch her back and maybe even kiss her again without worrying about professional boundaries.

Pickles had no answer, but his dark eyes seemed knowing as he gazed at me.

I finished my beer and leaned back, my mind still full of gray eyes and soft lips and the memory of a body that fit against mine as if it belonged there. Saturday couldn’t come soon enough.

MIA

Jack’s car purred along the road, the silence between us stretching like taffy. I’d run through at least thirty conversation starters in my head, but each one felt more awkward than the last. How was I supposed to act natural with a man who’d kissed me senseless just days earlier? A man who was now pretending to be my boyfriend but was also very much my boss?

My phone buzzed in my lap, and I nearly leapt out of my skin. Emily’s name flashed on the screen, and I opened her text, grateful for the distraction.

So Mom was grilling me for details about your new man. I told her he’s not much to look at, but he makes you happy. You’re welcome!

“Fuck,” I muttered.

Jack glanced at me. “Problem?”

I sighed, letting my head fall back against the seat. “Emily’s mom was asking about you, and Emily told her you’re ‘not much to look at, but you make me happy.’”

His eyebrows shot up, and when I risked a peek at his face, I saw the corner of his mouth quirk upward. “And that’s a problem because...?”

“Because you’re very much something to look at and it’s made things weird. Or something. I don’t know.” I twisted my fingers in my lap, suddenly self-conscious. “I’m just overthinking everything.”

Jack reached over and squeezed my hand briefly before returning his to the steering wheel.

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