Page 28 of Sugar Coated Lies
“Everleigh, wait! Please. Maybe I can help.” He chases after me.
I can’t have my boss doing that, so I stop. “I’m sorry, Mr. Livingston. I realize how awkward this is, but I have a nurse watching my grandpa and her shift ends in one minute.”
“We need to get you home then.”
“Yes,” I say, a bit stunned. “Thank you for understanding.” I head for the exit doors.
“It’s Daire, by the way.” He continues to follow me. “Mr. Livingston is my father.”
“Daire. Thank you.” I keep walking, his pace matching mine.
He opens the store door for me.
“Thank you, again.”
“Of course.”
Is he leaving, too? We pause at the bottom of the steps to the parking lot.
“My car is this way.” He gestures to the right.
“And mine is this way.” I gesture to the left.
“And you’re coming with me,” he says.
What? “I have a car. It’s old, but it runs fine.”
His brows pinch with confusion. “I’m sure it does. But you don’t have your license, and I wouldn’t be a responsible boss if I let you drive home without it, and because we don’t have time to find it—ifwe even could—I won’t risk my newest employee getting a ticket when I am capable of giving her a ride.”
“You want to drive me home?” This is mad.
He nods.
“But…you’re my boss. You’re busy. I live over thirty minutes away. I couldn’t ask that of you.”
“You’re not asking. I’m offering. Now get what you need from your car and meet me over there.” He points to a sleek, sporty BMW.
“You don’t have to do this.”
“Everleigh?” His gentle yet commanding tone stirs heat inside me.
“Yes?”
“Please get your things before it gets even later.”
“O-okay.”
I race to my car, get my purse and the box of pastries, then hurry back to Daire, who’s inside his BMW, the engine running.
I sink into soft leather that perfumes the air and place the box on the floor between my feet while I hold my purse on my lap. “This is nice.”
“Thanks. It was a graduation gift.”
“From college?” Duh. What else could he mean?
“Yes.” He backs out of the spot.
“Where did you go?”
