Nora nods. “And when she came to see me the other day at the bakery, she was stopping in from a long trip to Alaska, and after you left, she asked if you were there because we were seeing each other. I told her no, that we’re just friends, and she actually encouraged me to take that next step, to make it more than just friends. Well, maybe not at that exact moment, because she was a little shocked, but she said that soon after.”
“Seriously?” I ask, an odd mixture of disbelief and relief flooding through me.
“Yes. Seriously.”
“And what, uh . . . what did you say to her?” I ask.
“I don’t know: you’re sitting here in my apartment, wearing just a towel while I straddle your lap. What do you think I said to her?”
Hell . . .
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
LARKIN
“It was you, Larkin, that made me smile. All fucking you . . .” His voice trails off as he looks to the side.
Me?
He was . . . he was thinking of me? That’s what made him smile?
I don’t know what to say.
What to do.
How to react.
For years I’ve dreamed of what would happen if I ever crossed that line with Ford, my boss, and for years, I’ve tamped down that feeling, knowing it would only end up in a complete disaster—because there was no way Ford would ever look at me like that.
I’m the twig of a girl who came storming into his office, half-ready to break down into an emotional mess and half-determined to make something of myself, begging for a job, any kind of job, just something to keep me connected to my father.
I never would have considered him thinking of me that way.
“Fuck,” he mutters and pushes his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, Larkin, I never should have—”
Before I can stop myself, I close the distance between us, grip the back of his neck, and pull him close as my mouth descends on his.
Together, we sit there, stunned.
Our mouths are touching, but that’s about it.
We’re not moving.
We’re not wrapped up in each other’s embrace.
We’re not attempting more than two pairs of lips pressing together, and that’s when I realize I’ve made a giant mistake.
I quickly release him and scoot back, putting a few feet between us as I cover my furiously blushing face with my hands. “Oh my God, Ford, I’m so sorry. I never should have done that. I don’t know what I was thinking. I wasn’t even thinking at all. It was stupid and careless, and I was caught up in the moment.” I remove my hands to look into his stunned eyes. “I’m sorry.”
He doesn’t say anything, just clears his throat and pulls his legs into his chest.
Yup, I messed this up so bad.
So freaking bad.
Trying to hold back tears, I stand from the floor and pick up the pot. “I’ll, uh . . . I’ll take care of this.”
Quickly, before he can see a tear fall, I walk into the kitchen, pot in hand, and set it in the sink before gripping the counter and taking a deep breath.
Don’t cry, Larkin. That will only make matters worse.
It was a mistake; mistakes happen. This is something we can move past.
So, you kissed your boss. You’re a smart girl; you can think of ways to get through this monumental moment that never should have happened.
I suck in a few sharp breaths, attempting to steel my emotions as they run rampant in my head.
Embarrassment.
Humiliation.
Fear.
Confusion.
They all hit me at the same time, consuming me, overwhelming me, and pulling tears from my eyes.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
What on earth would possess you to kiss your boss?
Yes, the moment felt heavy, but that’s how it can get with Ford. That doesn’t mean you KISS HIM.
From the way he didn’t move, just sat their stunned, as if he was counting the nanoseconds until I let go of him, it’s clear I read the situation entirely wrong.
I make him smile . . . as a friend.
Not anything else.
As a friend, you naive, naive girl.
Gathering myself, I take a deep breath and wipe at my eyes. I need to go in there at some point or he’s going to come out here to make sure I didn’t fall in the sink or try to throw myself down the garbage disposal. Both viable options right now.
But if anything, I’m resilient. I’ve gotten over worse. Yes, nothing this embarrassing, but I can do this. Just be confident.
I let out another deep breath, set my shoulders back, and with a twisted stomach of nerves and embarrassment, I walk back into the living room, where Ford is sitting, staring at the fire.