Page 48 of The Perfect Mistake

She sweeps her hair to the side and starts to slowly braid it. I watch the movement out of the corner of my eye. “I haven’t had the time to cultivate a lot of hobbies,” she murmurs. “Dancing took up everything for so many years. I do yoga, I like watching TV, and I really like to read.”

“You do? What?”

Isabel shrugs. “They’re not books you’d like.”

“And what do you know about that?” I ask. It’s meant to be joking, but it comes out a bit gruff. Something about her seeing how the other parents reacted to me tonight has set me off. I don’t want her to see me any differently.

Her slim leg pressed against mine might have something to do with it, too.

She nudges me with her shoulder. “I know this. Trust me.”

“I’m imagining the worst now. What can it be? Horror? Or kinky stuff, like those smut books?” I ask.

Isabel doesn’t respond.

My brain short-circuits, replaying what I’ve just said to Connie’s best friend, my employed nanny.

“Kinda like that, yeah,” she whispers. “And maybe don’t say the word kink at a school event, Alec.”

Energy races down my spine at her voice whispering my name and “kink” in the same sentence. We’re silent for almost a minute while I find my bearings.

“Can you please say something?” she finally murmurs. On the blanket, I can see her hand tightening. There are goose bumps along the exposed skin of her wrist.

This time of year, even with the space heaters and the thick layers everyone is wearing, the air isn’t exactly warm. Maybe that’s why they are there. And maybe that’s why I want to shrug out of my own too-warm coat and wrap it around her.

But I know that would only pour fuel on the fire I accidentally started with the nosey mothers.

“Alec,” she mutters.

I lean my shoulder against hers, and this time I keep it there. “Sounds like a great hobby,” I say. “You’ll have to give me some book recommendations.”

Her silence is so loud it makes me smile in the darkness.

Yeah, I think. I’m screwed.

Isabel

I sigh and put my Kindle down, and look at the clock. It’s almost ten thirty, and he still hasn’t arrived home. I can’t even pretend anymore that I’m not waiting for him.

That’s what I’ve been doing for the past hour, but my excuse is wearing thin, even on myself. Throughout the day, the busyness that was a constant companion in my life since I started dancing professionally kept me on my toes. Before I picked up the kids, I had gone out for a run and then an hour-long yoga and stretching session. Then it was the usual hustle and bustle at home. And after Sam and Willa fell asleep, I did my laundry, watched two episodes of Gilmore Girls, and read ten chapters of a new romance book on my e-reader.

But I haven’t been able to focus on the story.

It’s by an author I love, and I can tell the characters are great. The tropes are exactly what I like. But I can’t focus beyond the deafening silence of the apartment.

Being attracted to Alec Connovan had always been inconvenient. It was harmless when he was just Connie’s older brother and permanently out of reach. Someone I bumped into no more than twice a year.

But it’s much harder now that I’m living under his roof and he’s my boss. Still permanently out of reach, but so close that I can almost touch him, and that’s worse.

So what if he’s handsome, and closed off, and radiates power in every room he enters? Women have resisted men like him before. Crossing that boundary isn’t a good idea for about a hundred different reasons, and he’s given me no indication that he’s interested in anyone romantically. The complete opposite, actually.

Maybe I’m doomed to suffer through this stupid little crush, but I’m hardly the only woman who’s been attracted to a man like him. The books in my Kindle prove that.

Only, things tend to work out in the heroine’s favor, and she gets her Happy Ever After, alongside a healthy dose of repeat orgasms and dirty talk. Somehow, I doubt that Alec would ever talk dirty.

But it’s amusing to imagine it. His dark, steady voice, saying the kind of things I sometimes read about… no. My life is in shambles already. The last thing I need is to add an ill-advised come-on to Alec, lose this job, and ruin my friendship with Connie.

And if he’s lonely too, he doesn’t seem to be bothered by it. The man is an island, and all that. I bet he has it tattooed on his ankle, I think wryly.

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