Page 27 of Bold

Brazen

Professionalism is out the window.

My decision to keep things completely platonic is gone.

Resisting is no longer on my agenda.

I don’t even know when or where it happened. One second, I was appeasing Sunday by taking a quick walk, and the next second, everything changed. As I saw Noah’s eyes light up when we talked about art, I was no longer there out of obligation. My reservations left with the model’s clothes, and I had no desire to see anything in the room but Noah. Everything changed. The hesitation inside my head disappeared, and my heart opened.

There is one thing I have to do before I make a move though, and that’s talk to Sunday. I’ve asked her to meet me at the office early. I don’t need permission from her. Hell, she’s been practically throwing Noah at me, but Sunday and I are her bosses, and I figure we might have a few things to talk about. Sunday’s main focus is on my happiness. That’s always been her priority, but there is also the business to consider, too. We’re a team.

“Ready for me to say I told you so?”

The door isn’t even closed behind me before she pounces.

“Take a minute to gloat, and then let’s have an adult conversation. Can we?” I move forward and take the extra cup of coffee from her hand. “Thanks.”

“Welcome. So, I’m right then? You are here to admit I know what’s right for you better than you do?” She sets her own cup down as I walk away from her and sit at my desk.

“Are you finished?” I fold my hands together near my face.

“No, not yet.” Sunday begins to walk in a circle.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Enjoying my victory lap.”

“Will your big-head parade be over soon? We only have so much time alone this morning.”

Noah will be here within the hour.

I’m nervous about this, and Sunday isn’t helping. My track record with women hasn’t been the greatest, and getting involved with someone I hired could blow up in my face if I’m not careful.

My high school girlfriend of three years was so insecure that she needed saving from herself. She had an immeasurable way of always tearing herself down, but I was always there to try to build her back up. My college girlfriend of five years suffered from anorexia, and I held her hand through all her therapy. She eventually left me for her therapist. My last girlfriend after that had declared bankruptcy by the time she was twenty-two. I met her after all that, but she hadn’t grown much from the huge life setback. She was constantly asking to borrow money from me while switching jobs every three months. For a girl without much money, she sure knew how to spend it.

Have I been taken advantage of in the past?

Yeah, probably.

But I don’t regret it. Everyone needs a little help sometimes. I’m not saying that Noah does, but my pattern is pretty obvious. I’m attracted to hot girls who need direction. Noah could be just another girl, which I doubt, or she could be the girl all my past relationships have led to. I don’t know. I do know that I can’t not go for it and kick myself later for wondering. Not one bit does she remind me of the girl who needed to be told how beautiful she was one hundred times a day because she could never believe it. I’ve seen zero inclinations or warning signs of mental health issues like I did with my college girlfriend. Noah might have been without a job when I first met her, but she’s done nothing but work hard to learn my business. She’s smart and funny, and for whatever reason, she looks at the world with such wide eyes. Her perspective is fresh and untainted. I’ve never met a more positive person in my life. I like that about her.

“I know what you’re thinking, I can read it all over your face. Leave memory lane behind. Noah isn’t some wounded little bird who needs saving.” Sunday breaks me from my thoughts of ghosts of girlfriends past.

“I know that, Sun.” There is no reason to beat around the bush.

“Good. Glad you have finally caught up.” Sunday gives me her smart mouth.

“I’m her boss, and she’s young, Sunday. This doesn’t seem like a recipe for disaster?”

“Did you call me in here early to tell me you were going for it or because you were looking for a way to talk yourself out of it?” She sits at Noah’s desk and pages through the art pamphlet left on top.

“I called you in here to tell you I’m going for it.”

The nine-year age difference between Noah and me hasn’t changed, and I’m still her boss. Both are just excuses.

My best friend looks at me with all the sincerity in the world.

“I’m not declaring love or anything, but Noah is different. Maybe the real-deal kind of different.” My voice is steady as we hold eye contact.

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