Page 61 of A Ticking Time Boss

“Hi,” I say. “Where’d you go?”

“Stocked your fridge. You have four different kinds of soup now and five ice cream flavors. Lots of juice too.”

I blink at him. “Oh.”

“Wasn’t sure which one you liked.” He leans forward, golden eyes on me. “How are you feeling?”

“I’ve been better,” I say and cautiously move my jaw. “Oh my goodness.”

“I can’t believe you would have gone home alone. I’d be mad at you, if you didn’t look so battered right now.”

“Oh.” Then I remember what we’d done, what we’d spoken about the last time, on the phone, and I squeeze my eyes closed.

“There it is,” Carter murmurs. “You just remembered, didn’t you?”

“Yes. I can’t believe we… that I actually…”

“It was great,” he says. “I won’t let you feel awkward about it.”

I press my hands against my eyes. “God.”

“Do you regret it?”

It takes me a few deep breaths to answer. “No. Maybe I should, but I don’t.”

The faint sigh from his direction sounds like it holds relief. “Well, then. We’re both adults. We can do whatever we’d like, or not do.”

“I can’t believe I came,” I say, and then immediately regret it. My head still feels loose. “God. Ignore that, will you? Please. Please.”

Carter chuckles. “I didn’t hear anything. And even if I did, the thing I didn’t hear wouldn’t displease me, you know.”

“What?”

“Never mind.”

I lower my hands and look at him. Folded onto the chair, long legs stretched out in front. Still in the same suave suit I’d seen him in earlier. His dark auburn hair looks almost brown, and it’s ruffled from where he’s run his hands through it.

“You came from work,” I say. “You… left your meetings? What time is it?”

He shakes his head. “Didn’t want to be there anyway.”

“But you have things to do. I didn’t mean to force you to be here.”

“I don’t feel forced,” he says.

“Carter, I’m sorry.”

He rises from the chair, stretching to his full height. “One of the perks of being the boss,” he says. “Don’t think about it.”

I grip the edge of my comforter. Why am I still in my jacket? The thought comes and goes, slippery, my mind unable to hold on to too many things at once. But one thing is important.

The most important.

“Thank you,” I tell him. “I don’t know what I would have done without you today.”

His lips twist into a half-smile, and I lose myself in his steady eyes, looking down at me. “My pleasure, kid.”

I reach for his hand. He realizes what I want and captures mine with his. Warm fingers twine with my own. My pulse thunders through the simple contact and up through my head.

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