Page 37 of Bad & Bossy

————

I’d spent nearly every second of the three consecutive tours far too deep inside my head. Every thought was either a replay of how he touched me or a panic about how I was going to make this work, if I even wanted to make it work. I could only hide Drew for so long, and soon enough, Cole would find out and do the math. Every fucking day, he was starting to look more and more like his father.

The easiest solution was to just tell him. I knew that, knew it would solve the majority of my problems, even if it created new ones. What if he wants to be actively involved? What if the rumors are true? Do I want Drew to have a father who’s an alcoholic?

And if he didn’t want to be involved, what then? Continue working for him indefinitely while raising his son, occasionally sleeping with him, and pretending that Drew didn’t exist for his sake? No fucking way. I couldn’t do that.

I leaned against his office door, resting my head on it. I had no idea what to fucking do.

“Busy,” a voice called from the other side of the wood.

I stood up straight. I didn’t realize he’d hear that. “It’s me.”

“Then come in.”

I turned the knob and slid through the narrow opening I gave myself, shutting it quickly behind me. Cole stood facing away from me, his black suit so neatly pressed it was infuriating. He gazed out the window that faced the start of the Rocky Mountains, a cup of black coffee in his hand, his body motionless as the sun slipped beneath the top of the slopes.

“Hey.” I hesitated before moving toward him, just a step.

“You done for the day?” he asked, turning his head slightly, just enough to look at me over his shoulder.

“No, but I’ve got about an hour before the next tour. I figured we could talk properly, not in a closet.”

He turned to me fully, gesturing to the plush chair I’d sat in before in front of his desk.

“Do we have to do it over your desk?” I asked. The double meaning hit me and my cheeks flushed. “I’d much rather this be informal.”

A hint of a smile cracked through his demeanor, and he set his coffee down before stepping around the massive piece of oak to my side. He leaned back on it, resting his rear against the edge. “Whatever you want.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, my vest tugging at the back and reminding me just where I stood when it came to him. “It’s going to take me some time to forgive you,” I said, the words feeling like ash on my tongue. “And I’m not getting into a full-blown relationship with you. Not after that.”

He took a deep breath and watched me, giving me a little nod. “That’s fair. And to be clear, I wasn’t asking for a full-blown relationship, Dana.”

“I know. But I have to think about what could happen down the line, and that’s not something I’m comfortable with,” I explained, the rawness of it feeling way too personal to say out loud. “But I also don’t want to avoid you or to avoid… this.”

“I’m not sure I’m following.”

“Can we just start over?” I asked. I rubbed the top of my left arm, squeezing it just a little to calm me down. “Forget what happened a year ago and be cordial.”

Something shifted in his eyes, but I couldn’t quite tell what it was. “Can you do that?”

“I can try,” I offered. “We can just be normal. I won’t avoid you. And then, whatever happens, happens. I’m not going to pretend like I’m not attracted to you or that I don’t want to be around you because we both know that’s a lie, and you can do the same. But let’s not put any expectations on it. That way, we don’t end up in a relationship.”

He huffed out a chuckle, his fingers trailing the rim of his mug. “That seems like a lot of steps just to let me touch you, Dana.”

“Are you okay with it or not?” I deadpanned.

He nodded. “Yeah. I’m okay with that.”

“Great.” I shifted to my feet, unsure of where to go from there. I hadn’t thought that far ahead.

“What are you doing this weekend?”

My gaze snapped right back to those annoyingly piercing green eyes. “I was planning on going out to Lottie’s, maybe go riding. I haven’t really had the time lately with the whole new job thing.” And the four-month-old baby. “Why?”

He eyed me carefully before shifting onto his feet and taking a step toward me. “I’ll come with,” he said. “I’ve been meaning to see Lottie anyway.”

“Are you inviting yourself?”

---