Page 15 of Under the Mistletoe
“Do you often walk home at night in the rain?” I swallow harshly as my tone sounds like I’m berating her, but I don’t want to hear her say yes.
Not answering, she says, “Winter has hit all of a sudden. It felt like summer was only yesterday.” She pulls her glasses from her face to clean the lenses, and my heart stutters. Her eyes are large, a deep brown, and she has a scattering of freckles across the top of her nose that I hadn’t noticed before. Her features are soft, delicate, and I resist the urge to put my hand to her face and let my finger trail across her freckles, wanting to count each one.
“Where to, sir?” Gordon slips into the front again, looking at me expectantly. I take a deep breath, annoyed at him for taking my attention away from her.
“Sleepy Hollow.”
His eyebrows rise, and Jessica looks at me quickly. He normally takes me to my penthouse, which is less than a few blocks away. Sleepy Hollow in this weather is probably going to take us an hour.
“Oh, the subway will be fine,” she says quickly, but there’s no fucking way she’s taking the train home.
“You are on my executive team now. If you’re working late hours or long days, you need to get home safely and not have to battle the elements. I need you at the office early, healthy, ready to go.” Keep this professional. Good job, York.
“Oh… of course.” She slips her glasses back on, and I already miss seeing her without a barrier.
“Sleepy Hollow it is,” Gordon says.
“Actually, no, I live in White Plains.”
I look at her, frowning.
“My aunt and uncle are in Sleepy Hollow, but my apartment is in White Plains. I travel every weekend to Sleepy Hollow just to help them at the store.”
It shouldn’t concern me, but I’m not liking all the subway travel she does. I’ve never ridden the subway. I’ve had town cars all my life. As she reels off her address to Gordon, he begins the drive to White Plains. I grab my cell and send off an email, knowing I’m not going to make the conference call after all.
But instead of getting frustrated, I settle into the heated seats, feeling more comfortable than I have in a long time.
7
Jessica
I’m literally dripping water all over his soft leather seats. I’m mortified, unsure if I should even be sitting in this very luxurious expensive car in my state. But what’s a girl to do when she’s freezing wet and her very handsome boss jumps out of his car, chases her down the sidewalk, and demands to give her a ride home?
As his fingers busily type on his cell, I try to fix myself a little. My glasses are fogging up, which is becoming increasingly annoying. I hate contact lenses, but I might have to make the switch, at least for winter.
Feeling heat at my back, I snuggle into the seat, the warmth spreading.
“Heated seats,” he says bluntly, and I look up at him, seeing he’s now watching me. He takes up most of the room in the back seat. He looks at me like he’s trying to put the puzzle pieces together. Like I’m a riddle he wants to solve. Breaking our eye contact, I spot his briefcase near his feet, a fresh bottle of water in the holder near his door, and a small glass jar of chocolate-coated coffee beans within reach. This man has an addiction to them, I’m sure.
“Thank you again for the lift.” The words don’t feel like enough.
“Why White Plains?”
I take a deep breath. “I moved there a few years ago. It’s a nice distance from the city to be able to commute, close to my aunt and uncle, and the rent prices are much better than the city has to offer, that’s for sure.” I start to huff a laugh and stop. His expression doesn’t change, and I understand why. He’s never had to worry about the cost of housing or proximity to work. Hell, this guy has a private jet, his own driver, and probably a penthouse that takes over a couple of stories. I feel a drip of water run down along my nose, falling across my lips, and I slide my tongue out to catch it.
My heart thuds as his eyes bore into mine, his jaw tightening.
“Have you lived in the city all your life?” I’m guessing he probably has, but I need to ask a question because the back seat of this car is feeling smaller by the second.
Unlike the girls in marketing, I don’t monitor every minute of his day or obsess over his social media or gossip mentions. I have no idea of his history outside the small amount of research I did on the company when Shelley asked me to come on board for the special project. His eyebrows rise like the question is foreign to him.
“I have.” His nod is small. I hear his cell vibrate, but he ignores it.
“What was that like? As a kid, growing up here in the hustle and bustle?” For a moment, I don’t think he’s going to answer me. The quietness of the car stretches between us. “I’m sorry, that’s probably a personal question…”
“It was what you would imagine it to be. Busy. Noisy. Lonely, yet full of people.” His honesty is refreshing. He could’ve said anything, a quick fine and left it at that. But I understand his thoughts. Lonely was my childhood as well.
“I get it. New York is one of the most populous cities in the world, yet it’s so easy to get lost among it all. My upbringing was lonely too.”
