Page 28 of Catfish

We can't force people to buy thousands of dollars of solar panels to save energy, that'd be a state expense. Which I'm okay with, but that's beside the point.

The point that I’m currently concerned with is the woman who has made my life bearable since coming home from the Carribean is here at the same party I’m suffering through. And I can’t keep from stealing glances at her.

She’s fucking perfect.

Too perfect.

The straps of her gown lazily drape over her shoulders, creating scenarios that my fingertips want to play on. Her hips, the flatness of her torso, her perfect chest that would easily fit in each of my hands. I haven’t been this attracted to a woman since—I cringe.

I’m not going there.

I promised myself I’d forget the bitch ever existed because she wasn’t going to mess my outlook on the opposite sex as a whole.

No one is going to have that sort of power over me.

Been there. Done that.

Emmy’s arm suddenly brushes against mine, bringing me out of my thoughts and subtly telling me that she’s back.

That she has questions.

Excusing the both of us from Caldson with her auditioned and sweet tone, she guides me away from any prying ears. At her first opportunity, her mouth opens, allowing the flood gates to open.

“Wanna tell me why I just threw myself in front of the party planner?”

“Nope,” I deadpan, shoving my hands into the pockets of my suit while I look for a drink—any drink that might be floating around.

“Too bad, Lockwood,” she presses. “If she’s a threat to something, I need to know.”

She’s a hazard to my whole damn career.

“Just a woman that I didn’t want to speak to.”

Not a total lie, not the whole truth either.

“As in…You slept with her or secretly dated her?” I take two champagne glasses off a moving tray and down one of them, handing my assistant the empty glass while I gulp down the second. “Now you’re scaring me.”

I’m scaring myself—shit.

I’ve never been this fixated on a woman that I’ve never verbally spoken one word to. She could be completely different in real life compared to over the phone.

Or not.

“Wade.”

Shit.

I debate with myself on how this conversation should go. I really only have two options.

Tell her I’m a lonely idiot or that she’s just a girl who possibly stalked me at a fake event or something.

Do you really want to lie to the only woman who protects you?

She’s not my mother. Not related to me in any form. I’m her boss, she’s my employee.

I don’t have to explain anything.

Granted, I should’ve never started this. It was careless and stupid of me. If Reagan and I got any deeper, it wouldn’t be good for either of us.

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