Page 30 of The Secret

“Thank you.” My cheeks warmed slightly at his compliment, enhanced by the cold March air.

“You know,” he picked up the ball and threw it, “you don’t look like an English major.”

“Oh yeah? And what does an English major look like?”

His teasing, confident tone returned. “Lots of black, maybe an ironic beret, going around quoting Shakespeare and shit like that.”

I just about stopped a very unladylike snort from destroying any good impression I’d made this week. “I’m an equal opportunist English major. I can quote most of the greats… Wordsworth would have had a ball with all the daffodils out today.”

He laughed loudly.

I side eyed him. “Shakespeare is my favorite though. You can’t beat him.”

“I knew it.” He nudged me lightly.

A faux gasp escaped my lips. “This coming from the least geeky looking math geek I’ve ever met,” I shot back before I could stop myself, earning another eyebrow raise which pinked my cheeks again because it was very clear I was aware of how he looked. Who was I kidding? Even blind people could tell he looked good, along with the entire population of New York City – which was evident by more than a few of the head turns I’d noticed since we’d entered the park, and I don’t think Bell added much to that. I had a feeling he always turned heads, because he had a face that everyone wanted a second and third glimpse of.

The difference between him and every other guy I knew was that he either hadn’t noticed or didn’t care. His attention was focused entirely on Bell.

And me.

I coughed my awkwardness away. “What about you? Why did you come to New York?”

He gave Bell a kiss, straightening her hat, before he answered. “Work and family. My brother and I own a company, and we’ve always wanted to set up an office in New York, especially as I was in college here. Then Wolfie and Franks got married and stayed here, which made it easier.” He turned to me, his grin setting my heart racing once more. “Plus, I have the boys. They might seem independent, but they fall apart without me.”

Rafe and Penn had been over at the apartment every day, and the times I’d heard him laugh were because of them. I still didn’t know the full story of what happened, but they had both been glued to his side, giving him more than a little confidence that he could raise a daughter. They did it all while constantly making fun of him, and he could give as good as he got, which again made me wonder why I’d only ever seen the quiet, brooding Murray. That was until this morning. Because right now, we were well into the longest conversation we’d ever had.

It was a turn of events I was almost grateful not knowing about, because if he’d been like this on my first day, this charming and this funny and sweet instead of the aloof and reserved father he had been, I’d have probably turned around and left because alongside his huge muscles and Godlike levels of beauty, it was a deadly combination.

I had a job with a very clear line, which wasn’t to be crossed under my own or any semblance of professional standards. And having a crush on your boss was bordering on way too close. It was reaching out to grasp the live wire when you knew it would do nothing but shock you to within an inch of your life.

Not to mention a goddamn motherfucking cliché.

“I think I should get one of those.” He pointed to a woman powering along with a running stroller, who very obviously slowed down as she passed. “You like running, don’t you? You could run with Bell and then you could use your breaks for something else.”

“I do, thank you, but she’s a bit young for it right now. The summer will be good, once she’s bigger. I can find you one to use for when I’m gone though.”

“Right, right, because you’re only here four months,” he murmured, almost under his breath.

We reached another part of the park, Murray holding the gate open for me to walk in ahead of him which was another thing I’d noticed about him this week: his impeccable manners. And even though we were only on a walk, it felt more like a date than any other actual date I’d ever been on.

Ireallyneeded to get a grip.

“Oooh, hot chocolate,” he announced excitedly, and I followed his line of sight to the wooden booth selling drinks. “Come on, let’s get one.”

Barclay sat down next to him as we joined the line. I shifted the blanket around a now fast asleep Bell, making sure she was warm and comfortable, ignoring my Amtrak sized train of thoughts that anyone would be warm and comfortable against Murray’s huge chest. My movements earned the attention of an older lady standing ahead of us in the line.

“Ah, how sweet. First outing?”

I shook my head, smiling. “No, but she’s getting used to it.”

“How old is she?” The lady looked up at Murray through spidery, mascara coated lashes.

“Three weeks today.”

“How sweet,” she repeated, her eyes moving between us. “And you’re a beautiful couple.”

I nearly choked on my own saliva. “Oh no…”

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