Page 10 of The Boss's Sister (The Off-Limits Ladies 4)

I continue to tell myself these excuses as I click the button for the lobby in the elevator of his apartment building.

I think about the last time I was in this elevator, pinned to the wall by Walsh.

Walsh is better off without me.

Not that he implied that he was looking for anything serious. I mean, neither of us gave that impression. But, I mean, if hewerelooking for something more than one night with me, then he would definitely be changing his mind after day two.

I’m intriguing on the first night.

Sexy and confident and cool.

I know how to play that game really well. I mean, there is not much to it, after all.

But that whole illusion falls apart quickly when reality sets in. It’s not sexy when you have to brush your teeth next to someone in the morning. Or floss. Or when you have a full-on meltdown every time PMS sets in.

Plus, I am flighty.

I never know what I want.

So, yeah, Walsh is way better off.

He’s a good guy. An incredible guy, even. He will find a girl in a suit and stilettos with a degree in something serious who is bound to make him happy.

She just isn’t me.

* * *

By the time I went home, showered and threw on my work outfit–a pair of slacks and a button-down top that my mother sent me because she didn’t trust me–I had enough time to stop for coffee.

Lucky for me, there’s a coffee shop right downstairs in Griffin’s office building.

I order a triple espresso and wish for 5 o’clock.

I stand comatose next to the coffee pickup station and scroll on my phone.

I see a photo of one of my old travel buddies. She’s in Ireland taking photos at The Ring of Kerry. And I can’t believe I am about to be trapped under fluorescent lighting.

“Heather?”

I freeze.

Then, I look up.

It’s not my coffee like I am hoping. It’s Walsh. He’s standing there in broad daylight where I can take in the full-picture of him. Suited up. Hair combed. Jawline still chiseled. And I feel like a total asshole.

“Walsh, hey, how are you?” I ask, as if I have not seen the man or fucked him within the last 24 hours.

He approaches me and says more discreetly, “You disappeared on me this morning.”

“I know. I’m sorry about that. It was early. And I had to go home to get… corporate,” I tell him, gesturing to my outfit.

He studies me and says, “I can see that. You have a meeting with your brother or something?”

My stomach drops.

I am not good at handling these situations.

Because I never normally need to.

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