Page 11 of The Wrong Boss

“Maybe you should reach out,” she suggested.

“Yeah? Why do you figure?”

Her lips bunched to the side. “I won’t say closure, because I’m not sure closure exists. But it would allow you to get answers to questions you might have. And that would allow you to move on.”

I leaned back, huffing a laugh. She’d read me like a book. Still, I asked, “How do you know I have questions?”

She rolled her eyes. “Please. Men don’t have such a massive hero complex without some kind of deep trauma in their past. You obviously need something to help you move on.”

“Wow.”

She laughed, her eyes challenging me. The warmth I’d felt when she first smiled at me spread to my chest, and I couldn’t quite stop the smile from curling my lips.

“Can we—” She paused, straightening her bag and coaster on the bar before turning to look at me. “Can we start over?”

“Not interested in hearing about my deep childhood trauma?”

“I’m desperate to hear about your deep childhood trauma,” she corrected, and we both grinned at each other. Then she stuck out her hand. “I’m Carrie.”

“Cole.”

Her palm fit against mine like it was made to be there. Her eyes sparkled as she met my gaze, and dimples appeared in her round cheeks as her smile widened.

For a moment, all that existed was her. The play of the warm, low lights of the bar over her dark hair. The thousand shades of gray and blue in her eyes. The way her dress dipped and crinkled over her body. The warmth of her skin against mine.

Whenever I’d heard people talk about the world falling away in movies and books, I’d always scoffed. Chemistry was a real thing, sure, but the cliche of everything going dark except for the other person?

Preposterous. Overly romanticized bullshit, as far as I’d been concerned.

Except it wasn’t.

I don’t know how long it lasted, only that it happened with an intensity that staggered me. I saw all of her in those fewmoments. The curve of her neck below the line of her jaw. The pain hidden in her eyes as her smile brightened and faded. Fine-boned wrists and long, delicate fingers. A strength I admired. A sensuality I was drawn to.

I felt an affinity, an attraction I’d never experienced before. Hell, maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe I was drunker than I wanted to admit, and I was still reeling about having to change jobs when I knew it would be a betrayal to one of my best friends.

But deep down, I knew it wasn’t the Scotch, and I knew this had nothing to do with Rome.

“Nice to meet you, Carrie,” I said.

“Likewise.” Her smile widened, brilliant and beautiful, and she added, “And you even sounded like you meant it.”

FOUR

CARRIE

I’d only meantto stop in, apologize, and then make a graceful exit to go back to Hailey’s wedding. Then I saw him sitting there in the bar’s dim lights, brooding and mysterious. It was like Cole had tied a rope around my waist to keep me sitting beside him, and if I were honest with myself, I’d probably admit that I didn’t want to be anywhere else.

The wedding was in full swing, and it was fun. But after one too many congratulations aimed atmeinstead of Hailey, my cheeks had begun to tire with the effort required to keep smiling. So here I was, nursing a mojito, talking to a man who seemed just a little bit dangerous.

His voice had a velvet quality, and I found myself entranced by the way he moved; he was sure of himself, but he possessed a calmness that eased some of the tension that had plagued me all day. Maybe longer than a day. Maybe I’d carried hidden tension deep in the core of me for years.

So I didn’t thank him, get up, and go back to the wedding. I stayed right there beside him, and I found myself spilling my own secrets.

“My family and friends are very enthusiastic about my breakup,” I told him, swirling my straw around the crushed mint and lime at the bottom of my glass. “If one more person comes up to me to tell me they never liked my ex, I think I might scream.”

Cole shrugged. “Sounds like they mean well.”

“Not you too.”

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