Page 83 of Meet Me at Midnight

“Well, you look better today. Really good, actually.” She swings her legs back and forth on my desk. “Have you made some changes to your skin care?”

It’s your brother.

“Avery, I need to get back to work,” I say instead of answering, a dismissive laugh making the words raspy. “I’m supposed to take those campaign projections down to Accounting right now, and I can’t do that if you’re sitting on them.”

She rolls her eyes, hopping off my desk with a thud. “You know, I really hope you get some sort of award at the end of the year for all this hustling you’re doing. Like a trophy. Or an Emmy!”

I laugh. “You could do some work too, you know? Then I wouldn’t have to hustle so much.”

She wrinkles her nose, her whole face disgusted. “Yuck. That sounds terrible.” Her face morphs into a smile, and she snaps her fingers in front of my face as an idea hits her. “You know what, though? I will go down to the break room and get a snack, so I’m out of your hair if that helps.”

“Oh yeah. It’s like I barely have anything to do now.”

“Great!” she replies cheekily. “I’ll see you later, then. But seriously, try not to concentrate so hard.” She gestures a hand in front of her eyebrows. “It’s bad for your elevens.”

I snag the file folder from where she was sitting, power walking to the accounting office at the far end of the floor. Brad, one of the numbers guys with a big brain, takes the folder gratefully but doesn’t say much else, not that that’s a surprise. He’s not a very social person.

I check in with Chris and Neil, running some documents down to HR for them on the third floor, and then get back to my rounds of checking in on everyone on the team. I’d be lying if I didn’t say that stopping in Beau’s office first isn’t strategicandselfish.

Unfortunately for everyone else these days, seeing him is a little—okay,a lot—more fun than seeing them.

Plus, after making excuses with Avery, I’m feeling an extra need to talk to him. This whole game of secrets and sneaking around and lying to my best friend is becoming an albatross around my neck.

Brow furrowed, he’s typing on his computer when I knock on the jamb of his office door, but when he looks up and spots me, his whole demeanor changes.

Serious is a memory; concentration is gone.Hello, handsome-as-hell smile that reaches his eyes.

Instantly, I’m warm all over, like having his attention directed at me is the equivalent of being wrapped up in a cozy, already toasty flannel blanket on a chilly winter day. I only everdreamedthat he would look at me this way.

“Hey there,” he says, his voice is all raspy from concentration, and my mind drifts back to my conversation with Avery as I round his desk and come to a stop beside his black leather chair.

He spins around to face me, full-blown smile still engaged, but I don’t quite return it. It’s hard to feel happy right now when I feel like I’m constantly lying to someone I love like a sister.

Of course he notices. “Wow. Don’t look so happy to see me.”

“Get real, Beau. I’m always happy to see you.” I laugh, smiling in apology. “I’m just… I don’t know how much longer I can do this…”

His eyes widen, his hands come up, and his fingertips dig into my hips as he stands. “Do what?”

“The secret-keeping,” I answer, my voice just barely over a whisper. “I know it was my idea not to say anything and all, but I don’t think I can lie to Avery much longer. It’s killing me.”

“Let’s tell her, then,” he says straightaway, and panic locks up my chest.

“Now?!” I feel like a psychopath, given the fact that I’m the one who just said we shouldn’t keep it a secret, but I’m scared.Terrified, actually.

How will Avery even react? Will she be mad? Furious?Hate me?

He reads me correctly, and his face gentles as he suggests, “How about next week? We’ll get through Thanksgiving first, and then we’ll tell the whole family. That way, you don’t have to stress about the holiday being awkward.”

“Okay.” I let out an exhale of air on a whooshing rush. A grateful smile follows. “Yeah. That’s a good plan.” I stare up into his gorgeous, entrancing eyes, and it’s almost pathetic how quickly my mind shifts. “Though, I’m not entirely excited about not being able to touch or hug or kiss you.”

He smirks, squeezing my hips gently. “We’ll find our moments.”

“When?” I whisper.

“Every chance we get.” And he punctuates that statement by flashing a secret but sexy wink at me.

His hand finds mine, our fingertips dusting together lightly. It feels forbidden and top secret, and I’m ravenous to cross all the boundaries I should keep firmly in place.

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