Page 78 of The Back Forty
Cash leans against the fridge. “Okay, but… sounds like she said she didn’t want todateyou. Or maybe sleep with you. That doesn’t mean she wants you to turn into a cold stranger either. There’s a middle ground, Lawson. You don’t have to gut your personality to protect yourself. You guys have always had this casual, playful sort of relationship. I thought it was flirty and knew this was going to happen but then I thought,nah, there’s no way that Lawson will cross that line.”
Regan’s watching me, thoughtful. “Maybe just try to get back to the casual, playful way of things and show her you can do more than just be her boss. Show her how nice it is when you guys are friends. That might change her mind and reveal to her that the progression from friends to lovers is closer than boss to lover.”
I don’t answer, mostly because they’re both right.
“She’s worked here a year,” Cash continues, his voice gentler now. “Ayear, Lawson. She wouldn’t stick around that long if you were some cold, unbearable bastard. You two make a hell of ateam. You trusted her with more than half our strategy this year. You know how rare that is?”
I exhale hard, the weight in my chest pressing deeper because who would I ever trust with half of my strategy and the other shit I've trusted her with? No one. Absolutely no one. Certainly not a stranger.
“You’re right.”
Cash blinks. “Wait. Did you just say that I’m right?”
“It’s the only time you’ll ever hear it.”
He grins like a kid on Christmas morning. “I fell in love with Rae, what can I say? She’s turned me into a man full of wisdom and deep thoughts.”
I roll my eyes hard. “You've never had a deep thought in your life. So, what the hell do I do now?”
Cash shrugs. “Well, you’ve got options. You can go back out there and keep pretending like you're not dying inside every time she opens her mouth. Be the same stoic, capable guy you always are, just enough distance to keep you sane. Or…”
“Or?”
He smiles. “Or you go for broke. Drop the act. Show her who you really are when you’re not busy hiding behind spreadsheets and travel itineraries. That there is more to you than just working all the time.”
I rub a hand over my jawline because is there more to me? I think there is, but maybe I haven’t wanted there to be for so long. Maybe I’ve just thrown myself into work to distract myself from facing reality.
“And what does that get me?”?
“A shot at something real. Be reliable. Be present. You already know everything about her—hell, you’ve been hoarding Dani trivia like you’re prepping for a pop quiz. Her favorite ice cream, favorite color, probably her favorite—shit, I don’t know—sex position?”
My jaw tics. Because yeah. Idoknow all that.
There was a night, six months ago. Middle of nowhere, West Tennessee. We’d missed a connection and ended up with a long, sleepy layover in a quiet town off I-40.
We sat in those uncomfortable terminal seats, Dani with an airport sized bottle of tequila and me with a bottle of water just watching her. For some reason, maybe it was the late hour, maybe because we were both exhausted, Dani started playing twenty questions with me and I learned a lot more than I thought I’d ever know about my new employee.
That was the night I realized I’d started to see her as more than just the new hire, but as a friend. As a beautiful woman who I wanted terribly but knew I couldn’t.
And I’ve been trying to ignore that feeling ever since.
“Yeah,” I say, my voice rough. “I know all that and more.”
***
“Craziest place you’ve ever had sex?” Dani asks, tipping her chin toward me like she’s dead serious and not halfway drunk on overpriced airport tequila and lack of sleep.
I squint at her. “I’m not telling you that.”
“Oh, come on,” she leans into the seatback, her knee bumping mine. “We’re off the clock. Lighten up a little, daddy.”
She’s loose in a way I don’t usually get to see—flushed cheeks, brown eyes a little glossier than usual, hair knotted up in amessy bun with a few curls falling around her face. She’s got on these light gray joggers that cling to her hips and a cropped navy sweatshirt that’s showing off just enough of her mid-drift to mess with my head.
I fold my arms and smirk. “You sure you wanna know?”
“I asked, didn’t I?”
I exhale through my nose and look straight ahead for a beat, mostly to keep my eyes from sliding back down her curvy body. “Fine. Probably a porta-potty. At a music festival. Austin Texas.”
