Page 39 of Guarded from Sabotage

“Those all sound great,” she replies. “Anything you bring is fine. Maybe seven-ish?”

As my schedule is now completely open, I nod. “That sounds?—”

Another knock sounds at the door.

This time, I don’t let myself hope.

It could be Erik, who offered to do yoga with me, telling me last night that it really helps with his stress.

It could be Niall, wanting to spend time with Jade before he has to go out of town on business.

But when I look at my phone, this time it’s the one person I’m simultaneously hoping and dreading to see.

His rumbly voice comes through the feed. “Sarah? Are you… I hope I’m not waking you up. But I was hoping I could come in?”

My chest constricts. Now I’m going to have to figure out a way to smooth things over, to pass off my failed kiss as… what? Being tipsy after having only two beers all night? Getting carried away in the moment? Can I pretend it never happened at all?

Jade nearly leaps from the couch and sprints towards the door, calling over her shoulder, “I should be going. Niall’s leaving in a couple of hours and I want to spend some quality time with him first. I’ll see you this evening.”

And before I can reply, she yanks open the door—no complicated locks to undo this time—and says, “Hi, Dante!”

He blinks at her, then glances over her shoulder at me. “Sorry. I didn’t realize… I can come back later.”

“No need.” Jade beams at him. “I’m just leaving.”

And then she darts out the door, leaving Dante in the doorway looking at me.

“If you’re busy,” he says, “I can come back.”

He runs a hand through his hair, tousling the messy waves and making him look even more handsome and boyish than before. But there’s a different demeanor about him than usual. His shoulders are slumped and there’s an uncertain expression on his face, his gaze dark and worried as he waits for my answer.

“No, I’m not busy.” I wave for him to come inside. “Come in.”

He heads to the couch, taking a seat at the opposite side from me. His forehead creases and his lips press into a narrow line.

Crap. What should I say? Obviously, he’s here to clear the air. To say something about how we need to remain professional and maybe it would be better if he doesn’t spend as much time with me as he used to.

Oh.

Just the thought of it hurts. No more movies with Dante. No more cooking together. No more talking and laughing and teasing each other.

But I’m a grown woman and not a child. I’m the one who initiated the kiss, so I’m the one who should fix things. After a deep breath and exhale, I say, “I’m sorry, Dante. Last night… I shouldn’t?—”

“No, Sarah.” Dante shakes his head quickly. “No. Don’t apologize. If anyone should apologize, it’s me.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. I’m the one?—”

“Sarah.” His brows pull into a deep V. “I… I screwed up. And I’m so sorry.”

“What?” Why is he apologizing? Unless he’s sorry for giving me the present, and spending extra time with me? Does he regret it? Does he think it crossed a professional line?

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he says, frowning. “I thought… I needed to keep things professional. Friendly.”

Ouch. There’s a weight pressing down on my chest. But a flicker of anger kindles, too. He made me think he enjoyed spending time with me. Made me hope. “So you were just being nice? All the time we spent together, the things we talked about?—”

My throat goes thick as hurt sweeps over me. “I thought it was more. That maybe… we were becoming more than friends. But that was stupid of me. And now I’ve messed things up.”

“Oh, Sarah. No.” Dante moves over to the middle cushion, his gaze fixed on me. “It wasn’t stupid. And you weren’t wrong. You’re not. I’m the one who messed up. Not you.”

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