Page 39 of The Relationship Clause

“No.” Dad chuckles. “His mind is obviously on other things. I said that I was hoping to get here before your sister left, but traffic held me up, and now it looks like I’m too late.”

Yay. I love surprises. Lucky sister.

“Oh, uh, yeah, she’s gone.”

Junie leans into me a little more. “And I was stopping by to see if I could pull this guy away from work a little earlier than usual.” She nudges my side, hard, as if to say, What is wrong with you? Act normal!

But how can I act normal when Junie’s curves are pressed against me and I’m desperately trying not to notice them?

“Ah, yes. My son is quite the workaholic. A trait he learned from his parents, I’m afraid.”

Ah, yes. There it is, the salt for my wound.

I write myself a little memo in my head: stop being a workaholic.

“So, Dad.” I clear my throat because I sound a little strangled. “What are you doing here? You didn’t tell me you were coming to town.”

“Unfortunately, I have a little business with your mother.” The word comes out as a low growl, and I can’t help wincing. “I was going to see if you and Kiera wanted to grab some dinner with me, but I assume you’ll be busy with your girlfriend.”

My face flames. “Dad,” I growl. I can’t be the only one who heard the emphasis he put on the word busy.

“No, no, don’t cancel any plans on my account. If I were you, I’d rather spend my night with a beautiful young woman too. We’ll have dinner this Saturday, me, you, and your sister. Hall’s Chophouse at seven.”

At the mention of the high-end restaurant’s name, I start scrambling for another option. I hate going out to eat with my dad almost as much as I hate the thought of Mother having a share in my company. The meal doesn’t end until my father has his dish sent back to the chef at least twice and he’s too tipsy on their most expensive wine.

I rack my brain for another restaurant, but now Junie’s thumb is kind of moving back and forth against my ribs and I want to lean into it and kick my leg like a dog being scratched in his sweet spot.

“Um, actually, what if I cook for you and Kiera?” It’s not ideal, but cooking for my father won’t be half as painful as the alternative.

Dad’s eyebrows lift as he considers the idea, but it’s Junie’s reaction I’m honed in on. Her head swivels, and I can feel her eyes on me. “You can cook?” she asks, surprised.

I shrug. “I’m alright. I thought it might be nicer to catch up in a more relaxed environment. Besides, you know how Kiera gets about stuffy restaurants.”

Dad rolls his eyes, and I can see I’ve won him over. “True. You win. Now, I’ve got to see a man about a horse.” He chuckles at his own lame joke, and after a few more awkward exchanges, he finally leaves.

As I watch him go, I’m still entwined with Junie. Each step he takes toward the elevator brings both relief and pain. I’m this much closer to being able to distance myself from Junie, but also I’m this much closer to having to distance myself from Junie.

When the elevator doors shut, I withdraw my arm, and Junie does the same. I’d be lying if I didn’t say there was a bit of reluctance, but then I remind myself I’m her boss and a relationship with her is not only a bad idea, it’s also against the contract we both signed.

We stand there awkwardly for a moment until I clear my throat. “Miss Cousins.”

She swallows hard. “Yes, Mr. Ferguson?” Worry lines etch into her forehead, and I have the sudden desire to press them smooth with the pad of my thumb.

“You’re the best freaking secretary I’ve ever had.”

I’m afraid she won’t get the reference and that I’ll regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth, but then Junie beams at me, and I forget why I held that compliment back from her in the first place.

“Seriously, I don’t deserve you. I panicked back there.”

“Yeah, I could sort of tell.” Her eyes drop, and more worry lines appear. I hate it. I never want to be the cause of those lines again. “I hope what I did doesn’t violate the relationship clause in any way.”

Oh. Right. That stupid contract.

“What you did was the lesser of two evils,” I say, clenching my fists to keep from tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Get a hold of yourself. This doesn’t change anything. “Trust me, if my dad found out you were my secretary, he would have flipped his lid.”

“Gotcha…”

There’s another awkward pause. Despite all the conflicting emotions flooding my system, there’s one thought blazing through it all like a neon sign: make it up to her. She didn’t have to save my butt like that, but she did. After everything I’ve put her through having to work with me, it’s not enough to say thank you.

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