Page 25 of Jett

“Nice to see you, too,” I say, my tone too casual, too easy, because I’m pissed she caught me ogling her.

I grit my teeth, forcing myself to focus. The situation is fucked, thanks to Anna. I won’t drag someone Brooke doesn’t know into this trip, not when she’s been through enough change already. It’s not fair on my girl.

“I’ve got too much shit to deal with, and I need last year’s Marsh report,” I say, sounding more clipped than I mean to. I’ve got a mountain of work to deal with in Bermuda, and I can’t afford distractions.

She hesitates for a second before nodding and rushing to get it. I walk into my office and exhale. I’ve been walking a tightrope with her for too long.

There’s something between us, something I’ve buried under the guise of professionalism. I’ve been harsh, deliberately so, to keep that distance. But it hasn’t worked. She’s been in my head for months, so bringing her to Bermuda feels like the worst idea in the world.

I take a deep breath, pushing the thoughts aside as she knocks on my open door. I order her to enter. She steps in, holding the report, her expression composed, but her eyes quickly scan my face. I’m already on edge, and seeing her only sharpens it.

At some point we need to talk about that resignation letter.

“That was fast,” I murmur, slipping off my jacket and throwing it over the chair. I turn to look out the window to collect my thoughts.

“I didn’t want to give you an opportunity to yell at me.” There’s a hint of humor in her voice, though I can sense some tension lurking beneath it.

When I turn around, she’s watching me, the same way I was watching her earlier. There’s something in the way her eyes linger, a brief flicker of heat that she quickly hides. It seems like this is something we both feel. Even if it’s true, I know I can’t act on it.

All morning, I’ve tried to come up with a solution to get around this. I want Brooke to come with me, and the only way I can do that is if Cari comes too.

“The Marsh file,” she says, placing a folder on my desk.

“Sit down.” I clear my throat and force myself to look away. I shouldn’t ask her what I’m about to ask. But I can’t hire someone on such short notice. I won’t have time to observe how they are with Brooke.

I’m really stuck, and I have no other option.

CARI

Jett catches me off guard when he walks into the office, looking as though he owns the world.

He’s wearing a tailored suit that hugs his broad shoulders, the crisp white shirt open just enough to make my heart skip. He’s effortlessly gorgeous, and the way he moves, it’s as if nothing in the universe could ever touch him. Confidence radiates from him like he’s untouchable. The master of everything.

I bet he proposed to her.

That thought punches me in the gut, hard. The image of him handing Alicia a ring burns in my mind. He asked me to pick up earrings for her, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he already bought the ring. I’ve convinced myself that’s why he’s walking in now looking so smug and relaxed, like his life is falling perfectly into place.

I’m so glad I handed in my resignation letter. There’s no going back now. I’ve had this stupid crush for far too long.I’ve occasionally caught him looking at me in a way that makes goosebumps prickle my skin and every hair on my body stand on end. It electrifies me, takes my breath away. For a second, I’ve let myself believe that look is for me. But then, he coughs or averts his eyes, or orders me to make yet another dinner reservation.

Then reality slams back in place and I know my crush is not reciprocated. It never will be.

“That was fast,” Jett says, his tone as condescending as ever.

“I didn’t want to give you an opportunity to yell at me,” I reply, keeping my voice as steady as possible, though inside, everything is spiraling. I’m waiting for him to say something about my resignation letter.

He shrugs out of his jacket, and I try not to focus on the way his shirt clings to his body as he eases into his chair. There’s no way this ends well for me if I let myself linger on how good he looks. My mind is scattered, trying to hold onto my purpose, but his presence makes it so hard.

The muscle in his jaw flexes, and it confuses me. He doesn't like something. Do I have a booger on my face? A muffin crumb hanging off my lip? I'm suddenly self-conscious again and I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired of the feelings I have for this man. Feelings I must have because I'm still not over my mom's death.

I place the folder on his desk. “The Marsh file.”

“Sit down,” he orders, his voice controlled but laced with something else unfamiliar. Softness.

I won't be ordered around by him. Not now that I'm officially leaving.

“Sit. Down,” he says again, more firmly. “We need to talk about your resignation letter.”

I reluctantly do as he says. “I wondered when you were going to bring that up.”

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