Page 20 of The Version You Hide

When Dylan has returned to his position behind the bar, Harper turns to me, fanning her face with her hand. “Oh my god. Is it weird that that did something to me?”

“What?” I ask her. “Who? You mean Dylan?”

“Yes! Of course, I mean Dylan!” she whisper-shouts at me again as she leans across the table.

“God. Not you too.” I groan, remembering the way Pamela had described Dylan in her loft that night and the way Kristen had shamelessly admitted that she thought he was hot too.

“Huh?” Harper throws a confused look my way.

“Nothing,” I say with a shake of my head. That was not a conversation I wanted to get into right now. Or ever.

“Seriously though. He is so hot. I can’t believe you get to work with him almost every day. You’re so lucky.”

“Who? Dylan?” I ask again just to annoy her. The deadpan stare she aims at me tells me I’ve succeeded. I let out a chuckle and then put on my best serious face and wave an open palm at her. “Please, he’s lucky he gets to work with me.”

This earns me a laugh from her, before she snatches the menu from my hands, her gaze skimming back and forth from the lunch specials to Noah.

When I first arrived at the tavern I was starving, but I’m suddenly not thinking about food anymore. Much to my own apprehension, Harper’s comments have me thinking about Dylan. And I don’t want to be thinking about Dylan. Or any guy, for that matter.

But I get it. I get the appeal. What he did to calm that screaming child may have also made me melt just a little inside. And not because I want kids of my own. I mean, I’m having trouble most days just taking care of myself.

I can lie to Harper. And Pamela and Kristen. But I’m not

sure how much longer I can lie to myself.

Harper is right. What Dylan did just now with Noah was hot.

My boss is hot.

And for someone who is intent on keeping men at a safe distance, I sure am having a hard time trying not to think about the way his touch felt on my knee in the courtyard yesterday.

I might be in trouble here.

“Hello. Earth to Mackenzie.” I hear Harper’s voice, distant with a hint of impatience.

“What?” I ask, realising that as my thoughts had wandered to a place they should never go, I’d missed whatever Harper had said to me.

She follows my gaze to the bar where Dylan serves up a beer to a local tradie. She squints at me in suspicion, a smirk twitching the corners of her mouth. “How’s work going?”

“It’s fine,” I reply with a nonchalant shrug, knowing I’ve been busted.

“I’ll bet,” she responds, one eyebrow arching upward.

I shake my head at her and toss a coaster in her direction. “Let’s order. I’m starving.”

“I’ll bet,” she says again brazenly, throwing a look over her shoulder at Dylan.

“Stop! You’re seeing things that aren’t there.”

“If you say so,” she resigns, stiffening as baby Noah stirs in his sleep. It’s only when he settles back into position that she releases a long breath. “Oh, thank God. I need for this kid to give me just a little more than five minutes peace. I love him, you know. Like I honestly love him so much it hurts, but sometimes I wish I could have just one night off.”

“You deserve a night off,” I agree.

“Maybe I should take my mum up on her offer,” she muses.

“What offer?” I ask.

“She’s always saying that she would have Noah for the night if I wanted to get out of the house. I just never have because the thought of leaving him makes me feel so bad. Mum guilt is the absolute worst.”

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