Page 11 of Canadian Fling

This is true, and it’s something I appreciate more the older I’ve gotten, but still.

“What do you say we go back again sometime soon?”

I swallow hard. “Together?”

“Yes.”

Don’t get me wrong, last night was hot, and Miles fucking me over the desk fulfilled a fantasy I’m sure he didn’t even know I’ve harbored since the day I started as his PA, but it wasn’t making love. Hell, it barely had any emotion other than fulfilling a physical need that had been gnawing at me for years.

But I’m not about to keep up the lie in front of my family, just so we can sleep together miles away from our real lives. Obviously, he doesn’t want to date me for real or risk the chance our pretend relationship would impact anything back in the city, in our real lives. It’s the final straw. Cutting things off now is the best solution. For everyone involved.

I look out the window as rain starts to fall. The rolling green hills fly by, and I try not to think about how I’m giving up, planning to move home after my years in the city produced nothing more than a broken heart. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. In fact, I’m going to submit my notice on Monday.”

The SUV swerves.

“What?” Miles nearly yells, and his outburst is so out of character I spin to face him.

He straightens the wheel.

I murmur, “You heard me. I’ll stay on for two weeks, but then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“Out of my hair?”

“It’s for the best.”

“For who?” He sounds incredulous, and I’m unsure where this depth of emotion is coming from.

“For both of us, Miles,” I insist as he pulls off to the side of the road, and we come to a screeching halt just as a clap of thunder booms.

“Not for me.”

“I’ll train a replacement, if they can hire someone in time. Or, if not, I’ll leave detailed notes to ensure—”

He spins to face me. “I don’t give a fuck about the work, Lauryn. You could quit tomorrow, for all I care.”

What?“Well, I’d like at least one more paycheck to help with the cost of moving—”

His hands grip the wheel. “You’re leaving the city?”

“I think so.”

He runs a hand through his hair, and his expression, usually stone-faced even under pressure, is distressed in a way I’ve never seen it. His voice is strangled as he utters a single word. “Why?”

“It’s for the best,” I say again as a lump forms in my throat. There’s no way I can confess the real reason now.

“You said that, but I disagree. You…” He trails off, and his mind is working as he looks out the windshield, but his eyes don’t focus on the land. Finally, his tone is softer as he turns to face me and reaches a hand over to rest on my thigh as if he wants to have a physical connection between us. “Last night, you asked me why I volunteered to come this weekend, to pretend to be your boyfriend and help out at the orchard.”

“I did.” And come to think of it, I’m unsure I ever got a straightforward answer.

“The truth is,” he says, squeezing my leg, “I didn’t have to pretend. I didn’t have to try to be convincing because, since you swept into my office on that first day, I’ve wanted you. I’ve wanted you by my side as my own, even though I’m not the type of man you’d ever go for.”

“You’ve wanted me?” Even as the words fall from my lips, I don’t believe them. There’s no way what he’s saying is true.

“With every fiber of my being. And not just my body. My heart and soul, too.”

I shake my head as if I’m hallucinating. “But what about your dad? What about the firm? You need a woman who’s rich and sophisticated and can fit into your social circle. Not someone like me. I mean, you said it yourself. I’m uninhibited and outspoken and—”

“Perfect.”

---