Page 94 of Behind the Net

His gaze rakes over my face, so soft and gentle I can almost feel it. “You’re right. It’s unacceptable.” He pulls his phone out and frowns at his calendar app. “Mid-January? We can have a party.”

“A party?Youwant to have a party.”

His eyes spark. “Only if you’re there.”

“Oh, I’ll be there. You know you have to wear a dog costume, though, right?”

He rolls his eyes, and I laugh.

“There’s something I want to ask you.” Hesitation passes over his features as he glances at me. “There’s a charity gala at the end of January, and the team is expected to go. It’s in Whistler.”

IloveWhistler, and I haven’t been in years, probably since Hazel and I were teenagers.

“Okay.” I lick the salt rim of my drink before taking a sip. “I’ll watch Daisy for the weekend.” The marketing job isn’t supposed to start until February at the earliest. If I get it, that is.

His gaze drops to my mouth, flashing with heat. I think about last night, how hot it was as he towered over me while Rory waited on the other side of the door. The way his eyes darkened with possessiveness as his fingers pressed inside me.

We can’t do it again, but that doesn’t mean I can’t think about it.

“No, uh.” He looks away from my mouth, blinking. “I want you to come with me. As my assistant.”

“No problem.” My voice sounds happy and chipper, but inside, I deflate a little. I shouldn’t, because we both know we can’t be anything more than this, but a little part of me popped when he saidas my assistant.

“I’ll book us a suite and take care of getting a dress for you,” he adds.

“Great.” I finish my drink, and as the server passes behind Jamie, I gesture for another.

The conversation drifts toward the upcoming holidays. For the week between Christmas and New Year’s, I’m visiting my parents in Silver Falls, the small town in the interior of British Columbia they relocated to for retirement.

I’ve been trying to think of a Christmas gift for Jamie, but he’s impossible to buy for.

“Are we going to talk about the interview?” he asks, cutting through my thoughts.

I suck in a sharp breath as my stomach churns. “It was fine.”

His eyebrow goes up, and I feel the weight of his gaze as I look away, glancing around the restaurant—at the multi-colored bottles behind the counter, the backsplash tiles behind the bar, the other tables, anywhere but his eyes.

I’m finally ready to admit it—when I picture myself at the marketing job, a little piece of me dies.

“Pippa,” he says, and my resolve crumbles.

“It went well.” My mouth is dry.

Jamie stares at me, waiting.

“I’m probably going to get it,” I say to the ice in my glass.

“You say it like it’s a bad thing.”

I flatten my lips, dragging in a breath, and I’m quiet because I have no fucking clue what to say. Itfeelslike a bad thing.

“Songbird.”

Another chunk of my resolve falls away, and I wish he wouldn’t call me that, because I like it too much. It’s impossible to pretend with him when he calls me that.

He shakes his head. “You don’t want that job, Pippa. Admit it.”

“Fine,” I burst out, and I feel like I’m about to barf. “I don’t want the job. My parents make it sound safe, but…” I pinch my bottom lip between my teeth. What I’m about to say sounds so stupid.

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