Page 90 of The Back Forty
I pull out my phone and text Isla, fingers trembling.
Dani:I’m in a hotel room alone with Lawson.
Isla:Um, WHAT!?
Dani:His room flooded. Pipe burst. He has to sleep on the pullout in my room. He’s promised to behave. But Isla... I think I might be in love with him, and I don't want to behave.
Isla:WHAT?!?!?!
Dani:Stop saying what and help me out! Is this insane? Am I ruining everything? He never stops working. He talks about logistics and sales forecasts the way most people talk about their kids. He doesn’t slow down. What if I end up back where I started, letting my career consume me, dating my boss, losing myself and my life in the process?
Isla:Okay, deep breath. You’re spiraling. You’re making up disasters before they’ve even had a chance to happen.
Dani:But I have to think about these things. I have to protect myself. Catalina was right, I can't end up back in the hospital. If it happens again, the chances of me recovering are so much lower.
Isla:Maybe. But maybe it’s also his job to protect you now. Your heart. Especially after everything you’ve been through. If you tell him your fears, he'll understand. You told him what happened, he'll be mindful of that. He’s a thoughtful guy.
I stare at her message, my heart lurching in my chest.
Isla:Dani... you’re not even giving him a chance to show you that he can be trusted to separate work and life. You’ve already decided it’ll go bad before you’ve even had the conversation. Maybe there’s more to him than the workaholic front he puts on. Maybe he’s more like you than you think. Maybe he’s scared, too. Maybe he wants to do a good job to please his family and make them proud but also knows how to relax when he wants to.
She’s right. Dammit, she’s so right. But that doesn’t make it less terrifying because I really, really, really freaking like Lawson and if things go south, I can't imagine recovering this time, or being able to continue working for him and his family.
I hear him move around in the bathroom, and I sit up straighter, nerves dancing all over my skin.
If I’m going to give this a shot,reallygive it a shot, I need to start by being honest with him. And with myself. Because if there’s even a chance this could be real, I don’t want to ruin it out of fear because of my ex who isn’t in my life anymore.
I want to be brave. For once, I want to believe I deserve something good.
Dani:What if he’s already moved on? What if he really has put me back in the employee box and doesn't want anything more from me?
I mean, I shot him down hard. What if I’ve already been filed away under “employee” forever?
Isla:Didn't he just bend you over his dad's bathroom sink last night? I'd hardly say he'd be able to move on that quickly but there's only one way to find out… seduce him.
Seduce him.
Right. Okay. That sounds… absolutely insane. But also, maybe genius? It might work but I need to be sure I'm ready for this.
Isla:But don’t lead him on again. You said he was clear; he doesn’t want to be strung along again. You said it hurt him last time. He's such a nice guy, don't fuck with his heart again. Please.
Dani:I know. I don’t want to hurt him.
I just… I want to pleasehim. Dammit, that sounds pathetic. But I do. I always have. I’m so fucking sick for him. It’s not even funny anymore.
I hear the shower shut off and my whole body jerks like someone just yanked a fire alarm inside me. I toss my phone onto the dresser like it’s radioactive and whirl toward my suitcase.
I yank out the only remotely sexy sleepwear I packed—a silk slip that hits just below my ass and dips low across my chest showing off the tops of my breasts. It's edged in delicate white lace cups that are see through and soft pink silk that pops against my skin.
It’sscandalous. I mean, genuinely scandalous. But it also makes me feel… pretty. Confident. A little dangerous. And maybe I need that tonight.
I skip the underwear. Bold move. Questionable judgment. But the logic tracks. This way there’s less to think about, fewer barriers when I put it all on the line. I roll the slip inside my towel to hide it and pace until the bathroom door finally opens.
And then—holy shit.
Lawson steps out barefoot, damp brown hair pushed back, skin glistening like a post-shower dream. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of loose, navy basketball shorts, hanging low on his hips that reveal the strong V he has there from all those hotel gym work outs.
His chest is bare and it’s a whole new side of him that I’ve never seen. Lean, strong, with defined abs and pecs and a tattoo on his shoulder that looks like a set of dates. Memorial ink, maybe. I’ll ask him someday.
