Page 55 of Making It Burn
“You’re not seriously considering it,” I said.
“Why not?You made it clear we’re just colleagues.What I do in my free time is my business.”
“We’re there for work, Beau.We need to stay focused.”
“On work.Right.”He shoved the napkin into his pocket.“Because God forbid Mason Price let himself have fun for five minutes.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?”Beau turned to face me fully, and his eyes were bright with anger and something else—hurt.“You kissed me, Mason.You kissed me like you meant it, and then you ran away.And now you’re sitting here acting jealous because some guy gave me his number?”
“I’m not jealous.”
“Bullshit.”
“Keep your voice down.”
“Why?Afraid someone will hear?Afraid they’ll figure out that uptight, controlled Mason Price actually wanted someone for once in his life?”Beau’s voice dropped to a harsh whisper.“You can’t have it both ways.You can’t tell me it was a mistake and then get pissy when someone else shows interest.”
He was right.He was absolutely right, and I hated it.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“For which part?Kissing me?Running away?Or making me feel like I’m crazy for thinking it meant something?”
“All of it.None of it.”I ran my hands through my hair, not caring that I was destroying the careful styling.“Beau, I don’t know what I’m doing.I don’t know how to do this.”
“Do what?”
“Want someone this much and not completely lose my mind.”
The words hung between us, raw and honest.
Beau stared at me.“Mason—”
“Forget I said that.”I turned back to the window.“You’re right.We’re colleagues.What you do in your free time is none of my business.”
“But you want it to be your business.”
It wasn’t a question.
I couldn’t answer.Because if I started talking, I might tell him I’d spent every night since Saturday replaying that kiss.Or admit that seeing the flight attendant flirt with him had made me want to do something reckless and completely out of character.I also might confess that the only reason I was so determined to keep things professional was because I was terrified of how badly I wanted him.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve begun our descent into New Orleans,” the captain’s voice announced over the speaker.“Flight attendants, please prepare the cabin for landing.”
Saved by the announcement.
Beau put his phone away and buckled his seatbelt.His leg pressed against mine again, and this time, neither of us moved away.
We sat like that for the descent—not talking, not looking at each other, but connected by that single point of contact.
The plane touched down, and I felt Beau relax beside me.
“Welcome to New Orleans,” I breathed.
“Yeah,” he replied.“Welcome to hell.”
* * *
