Page 19 of Pucking My Grumpy Accidental Husband
For a long moment, she just stares at me. I can see the war happening behind her eyes—professional Tessa battling with the woman who married a stranger in Vegas.
Finally, she slides her key card through the reader and pushes her door open.
"Come in," she says quietly. "But just to talk."
I follow her into the room, which is identical to mine except for the feminine touches—her blazer draped carefully over the chair, her laptop open on the desk, the faint scent of her perfume in the air.
She sits on the edge of the bed, leaving space between us, and I take the chair by the window. The distance feels both necessary and torturous.
"I can't stop thinking about you," I say, because apparently I've decided honesty is the best policy. "About that night. About the way you felt in my arms."
"Dax—"
"I dream about you." The words tumble out before I can stop them. "Every night since you left. I wake up expecting to find you there, and when you're not, it feels like losing you all over again."
She's staring at her hands, twisting that ring finger in the nervous habit I've memorized. "This is exactly what we said we wouldn't do."
"I know. But I'm going crazy pretending I don't know what you look like when you come. Pretending I don't remember how you taste. Pretending it was just a hookup. When we both know it was never just that."
Her breath catches, and when she looks up at me, her eyes are gold. "We can't do this."
"Why not?"
"Because I can't lose another job. Because Harrison will fire us both. Because?—"
"Because you're scared," I interrupt gently.
"Of course I'm scared!" She stands up abruptly, pacing to the window. "I'm terrified. This job is everything to me. It's my chance to rebuild my career, and I can't—I won't—let attraction ruin that."
"This isn't just attraction, though, is it?"
She spins around to face me. "What is it then?"
"I don't know." I run both hands through my hair, frustrated. "That's what's driving me insane. I've never... Look, I don't do relationships, okay? I don't get attached. But with you..." I trail off, searching for words.
"With me what?"
"With you, I can't think straight. I've been a mess since Vegas. Jamie thinks I'm having some kind of breakdown because he walked in on me folding the same shirt for twenty minutes. Mymom called him to ask if I'm seeing someone because apparently I sound different on the phone."
She stares at me. "You sound different?"
"Happier, she said. More like myself." I laugh, but there's no humor in it. "Which is fucked up because I don't even know who that is anymore."
"Dax—"
"You want to know what I think this is? I think Vegas wasn't a random accident. I think we both felt something veryreal, and I think we both recognized something in each other that night."
"Like what?"
"Like... like we're both really good at being alone. Really good at protecting ourselves. But maybe we don't want to be good at that anymore."
She's quiet for a long moment, her arms wrapped around herself. "That scares the hell out of me."
"Me too. You think I'm not terrified? I haven't introduced anyone to my family in three years. I don't let people get close because everyone leaves eventually. But you..." I shake my head. "I keep thinking about what you said that night. About how you've been taking care of yourself since you were a kid."
"Because I had to."
"I know. Just like I had to step up when my dad left. We're both so used to being the responsible one, the one who keeps it together." I take a step closer. "But what if we didn't have to do that alone anymore?"
