Page 9 of Kissing the Boss
"The best ideas rarely are." She winks and disappears into the crowd before I can argue.
I clutch my hot chocolate like a shield, debating. Yesterday at the garage ended with that loaded moment when our eyes met across the shop. All day today, he's been polite but distant, as if trying to erase the connection we both felt.
I should respect that. Keep my distance. Be professional.
Instead, I find myself drifting toward him, drawn by some force I can't name.
He sees me coming. I watch his posture shift, a slight straightening, a tension in his shoulders. But he doesn't walk away.
"Stalking me, Ms. Green?" His voice carries that gruff teasing that makes my stomach flutter.
"Yes, because everything revolves around you," I shoot back. "I followed you all the way to the biggest event in town that everyone attends."
The corner of his mouth twitches. "Fair point."
We stand in silence for a moment, watching the bonfire. The flames cast his face in gold and shadow, highlighting the strong line of his jaw, the slight crinkles at the corners of his eyes.
"You're not dancing," I observe.
He snorts. "Neither are you."
"I have hot chocolate. What's your excuse?"
"I don't dance."
"Ever?" I turn to face him fully. "Or just at bonfires?"
Something flickers in his eyes. "Does it matter?"
"Just gathering data." I sip my chocolate to hide my smile. "For the employee file I'm creating on you."
"You're making a file on me?"
"Turnabout is fair play." I shrug. "You have one on me."
"That's different. I'm your—"
"Boss. Yes, I'm aware." The word hangs between us, loaded with all the things we're not supposed to feel. "Hard to forget."
His jaw tightens, and I wonder if I've pushed too far. But then he sighs, some of the tension leaving his shoulders.
"I'm not very good at this," he admits quietly.
"Dancing?"
"Boundaries." He takes a long pull of his ale. "I keep thinking if I say it enough it'll make a difference."
My heart thunders against my ribs. "Does it?"
"No." His eyes meet mine, firelight reflected in their depths. "Not a damn bit."
The honesty steals my breath.
"Why did you come to Whitetail Falls?" he asks suddenly. "The real reason."
I stare into my mug, gathering courage. "I needed somewhere to belong. I've spent years feeling temporary—temporary apartments, temporary jobs, temporary connections. When I saw the posting for this job, something about this town just... called to me."
"Whitetail Falls has a way of finding people who need it." His voice softens, a rare glimpse beneath the gruff exterior. "It's like the town itself has a heartbeat."
