Page 35 of If You Give a CEO a Chance

“I would have looked for a movie buddy, but I wasn’t in the mood to become the plot twist in a true crime podcast.” She shrugs.

She’s drowned out by another spine-chilling scream coming from the TV.

“Will you turn that off?” I snap as I flip on the living room lights.

She grabs the remote from the coffee table and hits the power button, the screen going dark. “Happy now?”

“I’d be happier if you’d quit watching horror movies in the dark and didn’t leave my couch buried in popcorn,” I mutter, gesturing to the scattered kernels.

“First off, that’s your fault for sneaking up on me,” she counters. “Second, why do you care what I do when you’re not home? Weren’t you on a date?” She chews the inside of her cheek, avoiding my gaze. “I figured you wouldn’t be back until later tonight—if at all.”

“Why would you assume that?”

“Because you were out late and said you were with afriend,” she says in air quotes. “Everyone knows that’s code for a date.”

I rest against the wall, folding my arms across my chest. “Are you jealous, trouble?”

Seems like a fitting nickname, considering she’s always finding new ways to challenge me, whether she means to or not.

A blush tinges her cheeks as she leans down to pick up popcorn pieces from the couch and puts them in the bowl.

“What? No. It’s rude to expect dinner at a specific time and then not show up. That’s all.”

“Uh-huh.”

She’s totally jealous.

I could set the record straight and admit I was with Dawson, but I bite my tongue. Let her believe I was with someone else. Maybe a little envy will make her rethink her decision of letting me go and remind her of what she missed out on.

Once Fallon has finished picking up popcorn from the couch, she places the bowl on the coffee table and turns to face me, putting her hands on her hips.

“Are you going to apologize?” she demands.

“For what?”

Her lips press into a thin line. “Tossing my hundred-thousand-dollar tuna.”

“In my defense, it smelled like it had been dragged out of the dumpster, and I just assumed it was another way you were trying to get at me.”

Her glare hardens. “That wasn’t an apology.”

“Wasn’t meant to be.”

She exhales deeply, fire flashing in her eyes. It’s supposed to be intimidating, but I have to hold back a laugh at how ridiculously adorable she looks, trying to glare me into submission.

“I can’t wait for the peace and quiet when you’re gone,” she mutters.

“I’m counting down the seconds,” I shoot back, more annoyed by her indifference than anything else.

As we stand off against each other, I’m acutely aware of the sweet scent of vanilla and oranges that surrounds me, and it takes everything I have to resist the urge to lean in and inhale deeper. Her blue eyes flicker to meet mine, and for a second, I forget what we were talking about. There’s been an unspoken shift in our dynamic. Lately, our sparring matches have started to feel more like a reason to stay within each other’s space, both refusing to admit anything has changed.

I take a step back, running my hand along my neck. “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning,” I say.

Earlier, I told her I’m heading to Aspen Grove tomorrow for the holidays. It can’t come soon enough—another day spent in close proximity, and I’d be closer to crossing a line I vowed I never would.

Iglance at the clock on the microwave to see that it’s 5:45 a.m. Harrison should be heading out any minute to spend the holidays with his family in Aspen Grove. He’ll be gone for two weeks and requested an early breakfast before he leaves for the airport.

My traitorous heart dips, an unwelcome pang of disappointment settling in my chest as I imagine how quiet the apartment will be without him. It must be the solitude I’m dreading, not his absence in particular.

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