“I’ve been checking up on the emails,” he says the moment I bite into my sandwich. He glances at me from over his shoulder when I don’t respond, and the corner of his mouth ticks with amusement.
When I swallow the bite, I narrow my eyes as I watch his expression. “What?”
“Nothing,” Julian chuckles, sipping his drink and turning his attention back to the garden.
“Okay, well, if you’re not going to tell me why you’re laughing at my lunch, can you tell me about the emails?” I challenge him, finishing off another triangle of bread before he moves toward me, settling on the bench.
“You’re doing well,” he tells me.
“Thank you.” I’ve finished my sandwich when I pick up my coffee and turn to Julian, who’s still staring at me. His scrutiny making my stomach flip-flop. “Is there something bothering you?”
“No. I’m just not used to having someone here all the time,” he tells me with a small smile. He looks so much younger when he smiles, and I can’t help but stare. The man is handsome.
“Am I too noisy?”
“No, not at all.” He shakes his head before continuing, “It’s just knowing there’s another presence in the rooms.”
“I get that,” I respond. “I remember when I was younger, after . . . I just remember feeling strange if someone was there. Like I couldn’t be me.”
“That’s exactly what I mean,” Julian says as he pushes to his feet. He offers out his hand to me, and for a moment, I think he’s asking me to take it, but then he speaks. “Hand me your plate. I’m heading to the kitchen anyway.”
“Oh yeah, of course.” I stumble over the words as I pick it up. Once he’s gone inside, I blow out a deep breath, needing to calm my racing heart. Stupidity made me think this was something more when I know for a fact this man doesn’t actually want me, he just needs me to do the work and run the gallery.
As I pack up for the day, I’m thinking about trying to Skype-call Phee tonight just to have a chat. We haven’t seen each other in almost a couple of weeks, and I’m dying to ask her advice about Julian. She’s been my best friend, listened to all my problems, and always offered up sound advice.
Pushing the office door open, I rush out and slam into a hard wall of muscle. Lifting my eyes, I lock them on Julian, who’s standing on top of me. Well, not completely, but he may as well be because it’s as if our bodies have been fused together, and the heat emanating off him is sweltering.
“Sorry,” I mumble, feeling a blush warming my cheeks.
Julian’s dark eyes lock on mine. I swear I can hear his heart beating in his chest, thrumming against his ribs, and my fingers itch to touch him. But I can’t move because I’m in a trance of his spicy cologne mixed with the scent of paint and thinners.
“On your way home?” he grunts, the deep baritone of his voice mixed with the Southern drawl makes every hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
“Yes, I’m . . . I’m done for the day. All the information has been updated, and I’ve left a note on the desk for you. Just if you need it.” I’m rambling, I know I am, but I can’t stop.
He doesn’t say anything for a long time, then nods. “Thanks.” He steps aside, allowing me to pass, and as I do, I take one more really long inhale of his scent before I head home.
At seven, I open my laptop and hit dial on Phee’s name on Skype. The moment her video pops up, I can breathe. Since my little run-in with my boss, I can’t stop thinking about his smell, about how warm he was. Everything about him has me craving a taste.
“Oh my god,” she squeals excitedly the moment she sees my face. “You look incredible!”
“Thanks.” I glance down and notice I’m still wearing the blouse I chose for work. I’m exhausted, and when I walked in, I went straight for the fridge.
“Tell me, what’s happening? How is your new job? What’s the boss like?” She throws questions my way, making me laugh out loud. Phee has always been excitable. And this time is no different.
“Well,” I start, knowing she’s going to be bouncing when she hears about Julian. “My boss is difficult. I mean, he’s okay, but I don’t know.” My cheeks heat, I want to tell her that I find him attractive, but I’m not sure why I’m having trouble finding the words.
“Has he flirted?” Is her question, which only seems to send my embarrassment through the roof.
“Not in so many words.” A giggle bubbles in my throat.
“Nea, you’re so easy to read,” my best friend tells me. And it’s true, she can see right through me. “Tell me.”
“He’s nice. I mean, nicer than just nice. Ugh.” I laugh, but the gasp on the other end of the line tells me my best friend knows exactly what I’m trying to say.
“Oh my god! Do you have a crush on him?” Her excited tone is all I need to confirm that this is such a bad idea. “Nea, tell me right this second,” Phee demands.
“Yes, I do. But I mean, I work for him. I can’t have these weird feelings.” I moan, frustration clear in my voice.
“Oh please, you’re not the first employee to want her boss’s package.” She giggles, waggling her eyebrows, causing me to groan.
“Can you not? I mean he’s very reserved. He didn’t even like my tattoos. He comes across as grumpy and aloof. But there are times… I mean, there are moments where I see him, the person he hides from the world. But I can’t act on my feelings.”
“No, this is ridiculous. You’re acting like an old maid,” Phee admonishes me, and I know she’s right. I’m hiding behind old pains and heartaches. When I was in Italy, I enjoyed my life, and I would take chances because I could. “Listen to me, Nea, if he’s hot and you’re attracted to him, perhaps a little teasing won’t go amiss. I mean, he sounds like he needs a woman to break through that hardened outer shell.” Her announcement comes with a flourish of her hand, which only makes me laugh even more.
“What if I’m misreading his intensity as annoyance and not want?” She stops moving to look at me like I have four heads. Sometimes, I overthink things, and that’s why I need my best friend to tell me if those things are stupid or valid.
“You’re never going to know if you don’t take a chance,” Phee tells me earnestly. Her expression is serious for once, and I know if she was pulling my leg, she’d be laughing. “I’ve watched you grow out of your pain, out of that darkness that held you for so long. You need this, Nea.”
“Ha, I need to get kissed, or I need to get ravaged?”
“Both!” Her squeal echoes on the speakers, bouncing off the walls of my home. “Get kissed, slowly and tenderly, then let him ravage you. I mean, like well and truly fucked.”
“Oh my god, Phee!”
“I’m serious. If you go too long without it, you’ll become an old cat lady,” she teases playfully, and I have to roll my eyes.
“I happen to like cats. There’s nothing wrong with those sweet little furballs,” I tell her, folding my arms across my chest in indignation, which only has her rolling her eyes.