Page 11 of Off the Record

Boundaries. Healthy, enforceable boundaries.

My phone lights up again. I pick it up so quickly you wouldn’t know I was just patting myself on the back for ignoring it.

Hudson

Who are you doing the first article on?

Paisley

The Whiskey Sage downtown

Hudson

Who’s the lead character?

Hm. That’s an interesting way of looking at it. I toy with the mental image it evokes, Tina in the center with her anecdotes floating around us. Even as I think it, I realize it’ll never fly. He wants engaging human interest pieces, not stories about a bartender. Tina might fascinate me, but Hudson wants more. I could always focus on one of the bands she talked about. Maybe drill her for more information about them until I settle on the right one. Tina seemed interested in helping me out.

Paisley

A band. Possibly Carolina Blue.

Hudson

Okay. Sounds interesting.

I sigh. Hopefully I can pull it off.

four

Leo is standingby the elevators when I arrive at work the next morning, holding two takeout cups. His dark waves are styled into submission and his soulful eyes bent like a puppy’s when he takes me in, all sympathy and sweetness.

Gag.

I hike my bag higher on my shoulder and walk past him, doing my best not to inhale. His scent is one of the things that drew me to him originally. Cloudy and masculine but not too overbearing.

Shoot, I got a whiff. He still smells like the Italian Riviera on a warm summer day. Or, rather, what I imagine that would smell like.

Walk faster.

“Paise,” he calls, making me stop. “I got you a drink.”

When I glance back at him, he’s holding up the second coffee cup, dipping his head to the side just a smidge. He knows my order. I can practically taste the caramel macchiato from here. My pride wars with my taste buds, but my craving finally wins out. “Thanks,” I say, reaching for it.

He gives it up, but his eyes stick on me. “Can we talk for a minute?”

I tilt the cup to the side, analyzing it. “Shoot, I didn’t see the strings at first, but look, there they are.”

“I won’t force you into a conversation,” he says dryly.

That’s the beauty of strings, isn’t it? No forcing required. I’mguiltedinto it.

“We didn’t get a chance to talk yesterday,” Leo continues. “I want to clear the air so things aren’t weird in the office.”

Andrea’s desk and her overactive ears are too close for comfort, but Leo’s right. If we clear the air, maybe he’ll leave me alone. “Fine,” I whisper. “Kitchen.”

He nods, following me down the long hallway to the staff break room, which always smells like stale coffee. We only have a fridge, microwave, table, and an assortment of mismatched chairs. I think they were trying to be artsy, but it looks cobbled together. I put the cup down and fold my arms over my chest.

“When I left, things were still strained between us. I know I hurt you, Paise. What can I do to ease this transition?”

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