Page 87 of Pick Me
I pried one eye open and almost-whined, “Now? Really?”
“Why not now?”
“Haven’t you ever heard of afterglow?Ugh.” I rolled my eyes and heaved a breath. “It went okay. Jason offered me the job—”
“Wait, really? Congrat—”
“—and I told him I had to think about it.”
“Oh.” I braced for Knox to be annoyed, to tell me I was being ridiculous and shortsighted, but all he said was, “Why?”
“Because I want something that’s right for me, not something that’s going to impress a bunch of people I don’t care about.” I hadn’t even been able to articulate the thought to myself until that moment, but it was true. “And for once, I wanted to think it through before I committed.”
And why was it so much easier to think things through clearly when I was talking to Knox… unless it wasaboutKnox?
I see your irony there, Universe. Well played.
“And if Jason finds someone else for the position in the meantime?”
My heart beat faster for a second because I hated tolose, but when I thought about not working at Rubicon, I didn’t feel a sense of panic or sadness.
I yawned. “If he hires someone else, then it wasn’t meant for me. I deserve a job that I’m excited about.”
“Good.” Knox pulled me against him and rubbed a soothing hand down my back. In no time, my eyes shut, and my mind drifted.
In that hazy space between sleep and wakefulness, Knox’s lips brushed my forehead. “Don’t settle for anything less than perfection, love,” he whispered.
Or maybe I dreamed it.
* * *
The next time I woke up, it was to a cold bed and a milky-white morning light. I threw the covers back with a groan and eased myself out of bed, stretching my hands up to crack my spine.
“Knox was right. Old age does stalk me,” I muttered to the empty apartment.
The distinct chill in the air had me running toward the bathroom to turn on the hot water in the shower. Once I was clean and feeling marginally more human, I put on Knox’s big Hannabury sweatshirt, jeans, and boots, grabbed some toast from the kitchen, and clomped downstairs to the office.
It seemed like the sky couldn’t commit fully to being cloudy or sunny and had stopped in this nebulous place that was neither. I understood that on a spiritual level, because I felt like Ishouldbe happy—I’d been offered a killer job that I might still end up taking, I’d had six orgasms in thirty-six hours and my body was practically humming with endorphins, and breakfast was probably waiting for me in the farmhouse—but I couldn’t quite get there. Despite all the sex, or maybe because of it, I felt kind of fragile. I knew I needed to take a giant step back from Knox but also wanted him to, like, give me a giant hug and console me about that necessity, which would probably be counterproductive.
“Well, someone got out of bed early—” I began as I threw open the office door, but I broke off quickly because the office was empty.
Weird. Knox usually waited to walk to breakfast with me.
Maybe he was feeling off after last night, too.
I buried my hands in my pockets and walked across the parking area to the farmhouse. The wind sent dried leaves skittering across the gravel and whipped at the zombie army in the front yard.
“Morning, Gage!” Drew called from his stool by the kitchen island as I shut the back door. “Pancakes?”
“Yes, please.” I’d clearly missed the breakfast rush, because Drew and Webb were the only two Sundays in the room.
“We missed you at supper yesterday,” Webb said from his spot at the table. His words were easy, but his voice sounded concerned. “Knox said you were tired. Everything okay?”
That was a matter of opinion, wasn’t it?
“Oh, yeah. Everything’s fine,” I assured him, heading for the coffeepot. “Just a long day.”
“Knox wasn’t giving you a hard time, was he?” Webb stroked a hand over his beard the same way Knox sometimes did. “He likes you a lot, you know. I think he just… doesn’t know how to express it sometimes.”
