Page 63 of Brooklynaire
“Nate! That’s not funny!” Her eyes narrow dangerously. “Don’t youdarepretend to be dense about this. Hughismy boss, but only on paper.Youhired me seven years ago. Andyougave me this job with theteam.”
“Sure I did. Because you’re aprofessional.”
Her voice drops. “I wasn’t on Tuesdaynight.”
“God, don’t feelguilty. Because you shouldn’t. Not at all. Tuesday night was all my fault.” And as I say those words, I hear how they sound—like it was a crime, not one of the best nights of mylife.
She actually flinches. “I won’t let you take all the blame. I was there,too.”
She sure was—unbuttoning my fly. Running her smooth hands all over mychest…
Jesus. I’m going to get hard just thinking aboutit.
“…But it was a mistake,” she continues. “It’s not something I can be casual about. Even if I don’t report to you directly on paper, we both know that you’re the one incharge.”
I let out a frustrated sound. “I’d like to bein chargeagain, Bec. And I’m not referring to the hockeyteam.”
“God, Nate.” She blows out abreath.
“Yeah, like that. Butlouder.”
She puts her hands in front of her eyes before speaking again. “And here I thought we could just sort of agree to forgetit.”
“Because that’s what you want?”Knife to theheart.
Becca peeks out between two of her fingers. “Ineedto forget it. We both know that you’re one of the most hands-on owners in professional hockey. We work together all the time. I can’t be the girl who just casually sleeps with theboss.”
But it’s just dawning on me that there’s nothing casual about the way I want her. How on earth did it come to this? “Look,” I argue. “I gotta call a foul on the idea that our spontaneous naked adventures were somehow job related. You didn’t climb into my lap because you wanted araise.”
Her cheeks stain a deeper red, and she looks away. “Be that as it may, I want my job to stay the same. I can’t be known as the owner’splaything.”
My noise of disgust isn’t subtle. “Do you really think that’s how I seeyou?”
“No. Yes? I don’t know.” She hunches forward, her gaze on the floor. “I just want to rewind my life a few weeks when everything was going fine.Youtold me that I was supposed to focus on my recovery. And now you’re making it really hard to dothat.”
Fuck. I did. And I am. I want to keep arguing until she sees things my way. I’m very persuasive. But Rebecca doesn’t want me to persuade her. And Stew told me quite plainly why I’m not allowed totry.
And she’s right about one thing—the timing isterrible.
“Okay,” I agree suddenly. Because I know when I’ve beenbeaten.
Rebecca blinks. “Okay…?”
“We’ll forget it ever happened. We’ll never speak of itagain.”
“All right.” She opens her mouth and then closes itagain.
“Isn’t that what you asked me for?” She looksuncertain.
“Yes,” she says with a nod. She takes a deep breath. “I love this job. And I love our friendship. And I don’t want to sacrifice any ofit.”
“You won’t,” I say quickly. “Nobody is taking your job, Bec. Never gonnahappen.”
“Good to know.” She clears her throat. “Except now I wonder whether those performance evaluations you wrote me were ever unbiased.” When she looks at me, I can tell she’s thinking about what I said right before I kissed her. Even if I never admitted it to myself before, I’ve got it bad. I don’t have the first clue what to do about it,either.
Thisis why I kept my stupid libido in check for years. This was the precise conversation I’ve been avoiding. “Look. I don’t ever want to make you uncomfortable. Tell me how to fixit.”
She rubs her forehead, and I know I’m responsible for her latest headache. Once again, I’ve done exactly the opposite of the smart thing. This girl makes mestupid.
