2. Dana

Chapter 2

Dana

M y heart started pounding. I put my hands in my pockets so no one would notice how they were shaking. Why is he here?

The crowd slowly dissipated, splitting into two recognizable groups—one that clearly knew Cole, and one that had likely been hired on without meeting him. How I'd gone five months without knowing he was in charge was beyond me.

I watched as people milled about. Those who knew him slipped away from the room soundlessly while others stayed behind to introduce themselves and speak to him, shake his hand, meet the man who apparently was in charge of us all.

I'd heard whispers about the supposed runaway owner. Everything from an unplanned extended vacation right down to an alien abduction had floated around the office. I'd paid no mind to it under the assumption that he was never coming back.

Maybe I should have.

My feet didn't follow my brain's commands to move. Partly because the floor was so sticky and moving my shoes would take effort, but mostly because I just didn't have the willpower. I wanted to go with the rest of them, pretend like maybe he hadn't clocked me despite our stupidly prolonged eye contact.

Benjamin stepped up next to me, nearly making me jump as I ripped my gaze from Cole. "Come on, I'll introduce you," he said, one arm extended toward the line that was forming to fucking shake Cole's hand.

"I-I'm fine," I said, forcing a smile, my eyes looking towards the door. "I don't need to meet him."

"He's insisted," Ben replied. His voice had dropped, an air of irritation dripping in his tone. "Just get it over with so we can all finish up and go home."

It wasn't that he didn't have a point. I was taken away halfway through a guided tour to listen to this bullshit. I had to leave my group in the restaurant with a stack of free meal vouchers as an apology, and it was already pushing against my time to clock out.

"Fine," I grumbled, finally peeling my boots from the floor and stepping into the line.

I discovered I was sorely mistaken with my hopes that he hadn't noticed me. He glanced at me between each person, each time lingering for half a second too long.

It only made my heart pound stronger.

And make me want to escape.

I just wanted to get home to my son. My shift was already too long for my liking, and the nanny wasn't exactly thrilled whenever I was late picking up Drew. At this rate, he'd be asleep by the time I got there, and I didn't even want to consider how easy he could go from peacefully sleeping at the nanny's house to a screeching baby in the backseat. But the pay here was insane, more than what Lottie could give me.

I should've known there was a catch.

I wouldn't have taken it, no matter the pay, if I knew Cole ran the fucking company.

The line was moving too quickly for my liking. I was caught between wanting to go home and wanting to stay at the back of the line to avoid having to shake his hand and speak to him.

Mistakes had been made.

We'd parted ways.

And now he was my boss.

What the fuck?

I quelled the shaking in my hands as I got closer by picturing Drew sleeping soundly in the backseat. If I thought about calm and peace then I could get through this. I could shake his hand, rush back to my group, finish the last twenty minutes of their tour, and head home. Surely it would be fine.

The woman ahead of me, someone I didn't recognize but wore the uniform of the bar staff, stepped out of the way and, suddenly, I was face-to-face with him.

Cole fucking Pearson.

The Pearson of Pearson Beers. How did I not put two and two together? God I was an idiot.

He loomed over me, his dark blonde hair looking far too perfect for having supposedly just gotten off a plane. The suit he wore clung to his arms, not a wrinkle in sight. His eyes—those stupid, goddamn perfect, green-as-grass eyes that drew me to him in the first place—seemed to be looking straight into my soul. He was far more attractive than any man I'd managed to grab in my twenty-eight years on this earth.

He was going to be the fucking death of me.

I hoped he could see every ounce of discomfort I was feeling, that my awkward stance and forced smile would clue him in. I hoped he could replay that horrible scene when we had last seen each other, echoing in his head like a bad pop song on repeat. Maybe it haunted him as much as it did me.

Cole dared to smile, that same infuriating, charming smile that had once made me melt. But I had already made up my mind. I would never forgive him for the bullshit that had happened the morning after that hot night.

The man behind Cole, one I'd seen around the brewery a handful of times but knew definitely didn't work here, looked like he'd rather be anywhere else. I could relate.

But nothing could change what was happening. I was here, standing before the man who had hugely impacted my life beyond just a one-night stand.

I had imagined this moment hundreds of times in hundreds of different scenarios. Running into him at a restaurant on Pearl Street. Seeing him at a party at Lottie and Hunter's. Even bumping into him in the mountains. What they all had in common was that my son, Drew, was never present and I counted my lucky stars he wasn't here now either.

Without me even offering my hand, Cole grabbed it in his.

His touch was warm and firm, a stark contrast to my own hand, which instantly turned into a floppy fish.

A shiver ran up my spine as his fingers wrapped around mine, his grip both familiar and unsettling. "Nice to see you," he said, his eyes drilling into mine with an intensity that made my heart do somersaults. His hand felt strong and reassuring, yet it ignited a flutter of nerves that I couldn't quite control, making me painfully aware of the goddamn chemistry sparking between us.

"Mmm-hmm." I faked a smile so wide it probably came off as psychotic as I pulled my hand away.

Cole's expression wavered, a mix of nervous excitement and uncertainty crossing his face as he realized I wasn't falling at his feet.

But there was something else lurking behind Cole's stare — something that made my pulse quicken. An unmistakable familiarity, a reluctance to pretend he hadn't seen me naked, and worst of all: a desire to actually talk to me.

His mouth opened as if to say more, but I turned away from him as quickly as I could without raising any red flags to the rest of the staff and scurried toward the back of the brewhouse. There were at least four people behind me still in line, not a single chance of him getting through them all before I was gone.

Or so I thought.

Footsteps echoed behind me, clacking against the sticky floor. I glanced over my shoulder as I grabbed the door handle, those wild green eyes meeting mine once again. He stopped in his tracks the moment I got through the door.

————

About half of my tour group had gone home instead of waiting around. I couldn't blame them. I did, however, hate the idea that those people might leave me a bad review and Cole would be the one dealing with it.

The campus was massive. It stretched an entire block of downtown Boulder, with a bar at one end and a restaurant at the other. In between was the brewhouse, with its high ceilings taking up two floors of the center of the building. The second and third floors consisted of mostly offices and storage for the bar and restaurant.

From the top level of the brewhouse on the overhead walkway, I could see Cole and the man that had been standing behind him during the meet and greet on the lower level. Cole's hands were flying as he spoke, but with the sounds of the machinery, I couldn't hear what was being said.

"Is the brickwork original?"

"Huh?" I turned, my hand gripped on the metal railing. One of the men at the front of the group, an older guy who smelled horribly of cigarettes, held his hand up to claim the question. "Oh. Right. Yes, it is. The building was built back in the early 1900s. It was meant to be a brewery back then, too, but prohibition hit in 1916 and it was forced to close."

"What's this?"

A woman who was absolutely old enough to know better reached far over the railing, her hand wrapped around a pipe I knew next to nothing about — and I did not want to be the reason the entire brewhouse came to a screeching halt.

"Stop, stop!" I pushed through the people between us, forcing them up against the railing. The woman recoiled, her eyes going wide, and slowly but surely she brought her entire body back to the catwalk.

The fact that this was the third time this month that this same thing had occurred made literally zero difference. I didn't know how to handle it the first time, and I still didn't know how to handle it now.

"Please don't… touch anything," I said, loud enough for the people in the back to hear. "Everything in here is important. There's a reason we're not down on the ground."

"Right. Sorry," the woman mumbled.

I glanced down toward Cole, hoping to God he hadn't seen that, but of course, he was staring directly up at me.

————

Twenty minutes. I'd only run over by twenty minutes. I could still make it to the nanny's before Drew fell asleep.

I pulled on my leather jacket from my old riding days and zipped it up. My purse was somewhere in the sea of hanging bags, and as I searched through them, the door opened behind me. Immediately, my spine stiffened.

"Dana? Can you hang back a minute?"

Not Cole. Breathing a sigh of relief, I unhooked my purse and turned. "I really need to get going."

Allison, my manager, shifted on her feet uncomfortably, her eyes darting back out into the hallway. "I know. I'm sorry. But the owner wants to meet with you."

For fucks sake.

"Me?" I scoffed, trying to play it off as if it wasn't a big deal, as if the thought of being alone in a room with Cole didn't make my stomach sink. There was a questioning glint in her eyes, though. "Why?"

"He saw your employee of the month photo?—"

"Seriously? Goddammit. Why do we even have those?" I groaned, throwing my head back in frustration as I stepped through the door. "Drew's not gonna sleep tonight if I leave much later."

"I know, I'm sorry," Allison sighed. "I tried explaining that your shift had already run over but he's very… well, no nonsense. You haven't worked under him yet, Dana. He's more of a hard ass than Ben."

Somehow that didn't surprise me in the slightest.

She walked with me in silence to the elevator, briefly giving me directions to Cole's office as the doors closed and separated us. As the elevator lifted me higher, it felt like my freedom was slipping away.

How fucking convenient that the moment I found a job that paid well, and one I actually enjoyed when tourists weren't actively trying to destroy machinery, that this had to be the outcome. I'd finally been able to stand on my own two feet competently and my brief fling, my one-night stand that ended in disaster, turns out to be the boss. If there was a god, he certainly had it out for me.

Those eyes found me the moment I stepped out of the elevator.

"You actually came."

I didn't do Cole the decency of meeting his gaze as I stepped around his hulking frame. "Not like I had much of a choice," I mumbled.

Whatever conversation he wanted to have absolutely wasn't going to be done where someone could stumble upon us, and I was going to make damn sure of that. I followed Allison's directions to his office and let him trail silently behind me. The floor was clean and shiny; not a chance that a single spec of stickiness would be clinging to my shoes. The only sound was our heavy footfalls and the swing of his office door as we entered it.

I wondered where the other guy had gone, if he'd sent him home or if he was waiting around downstairs.

The door clicked shut behind me. "Been a while. Don't you think?" he asked, his deep voice trailing around me as he weaved his way to his dusty desk and office chair. As he sat, a cloud of it puffed up, dancing in the low light around us. Had the sun been out, the view from his office would've been incredible—all mountains and trees with only a trace of the street below. But all that filtered through now was a lonesome streetlamp, reflected headlights, and a hint of the stars above.

"Can we please not do this?" I asked, not caring how badly it came across. I didn't want to be in here and it wasn't like he couldn't tell already. I didn't even bother sitting, didn't care to bring home any dust or make him believe I was staying long.

His lips curled into a thin, harsh line. "When did you start working here, Dana?" he asked, avoiding my question as if it were the plague. And as much as I didn't want to play into his interrogation game, I knew him well enough to know it was the quickest way out of this situation.

"About five months ago," I said, crossing my arms over my chest. "You didn't need to bring me up here for that. Surely you could just check my file."

Avoiding the heaviness of his gaze, I gave myself a moment to take in the expanse of his office. Exposed brick, just like Allison's office and like every other wall in the building. The only difference was the sheer size and the ornate furniture that littered it. A solid, perfectly carved wooden desk, a chair that likely cost more than a year's worth of my rent, lamps that looked like the original fixtures in the bar.

Even in the poor lighting and the far too wide silence, it still screamed wealth.

"You didn't tell me," he said, breaking the quiet he'd created. But his voice wasn't quite as booming, wasn't quite as demanding as it had been before.

I forced myself to look at him, to take him in for a moment. The line between his knitted brows was juxtaposed by the softness of his eyes, and in his expression I saw who he was before that night we'd shared that had changed everything. It hit me more than I thought it would. In my wildest dreams, when I considered the possibility of running into him out in public, I always imagined he'd be the way he'd been that night — not the way he'd been before. Maybe that was my mistake. "Why would I, Cole?" I sighed. "I had no idea this was your business."

"You never noticed my pictures on the wall in the restaurant?" he smirked, leaning forward into the pile of dust on his desk. Little particles clung to the sleeves of his suit jacket. "You didn't notice my face three photos down from yours where you've been hung as employee of the month?"

A memory flashed in my mind from the stupid hanging ceremony they'd had for me, and sure enough, nope — I couldn't remember even looking at the other photos on the wall. I'd avoided looking at them ever since it'd be hung my second month here because I hated that picture of me, taken just a few months after my son was born.

How had I missed this?

"Do you think I look for you everywhere I go?" I crossed my arms, trying to mask the tremor in my voice.

He snorted. "I don't know, Dana. But if you think it wasn't obvious that you knew who I was the moment you locked eyes with me downstairs, then you're dead wrong. I saw your face go as pale as a goddamn ghost. You haven't forgotten my face just as much as I haven't forgotten yours."

Warmth spread across my cheeks, betraying me as I tore my gaze from his. My mind was a whirlwind of emotions, the memory of our one night together clashing with the urgent need to keep a wall between us.

"I'd even hazard a guess that it excites you just as much as it used to."

"Don't—" I cut myself off and searched for the words I wanted to say, but everything fell flat. I stared at the brickwork to the left of him, counted the odd ones that looked like more recent replacements, focused in on them to give myself a moment to breathe and find myself. "Please. I actually like working here, and I really, really don't want you to sully that."

"How would I?" he asked, and I could hear the grin in his voice. "If anything, I'd bet that my presence would only magnify that."

"Don't be an ass," I snapped, pulling myself back to his piercing green stare and the little lines beside his eyes brought on by his shit-eating smirk.

"I only mean because you have an in with the boss."

"If I wanted an in with the boss, I would have stayed working for Lottie." As much as I loved the independence that came from working a job where I didn't get pity-paid, I did miss seeing my close friend as often as I used to when I worked on the ranch. And if Cole made my life hell here… "I'm sure she'd be plenty happy to have me back, though."

I didn't expect him to move the way he did.

He pushed up from his desk, sending dust flying into the air in the low lamp light. Three steps and his height was already rounding it, moving far quicker than I was capable of as I took a step back toward the door.

His presence enveloped me, stealing the air and leaving it dry, demanding that I try to reclaim it. At one point in time, that had been enticing to me — the back and forth between us, the fight for who was really in command. Even now, a part of me still responded to it, still clung to it, and as he brought himself inches from my face, his light cologne filling my nostrils.

"You don't want that," he said, that thickness back in his voice. I could feel the depth of it in my chest and in my stomach, but somehow, I doubted it was loud enough to even make it through the door. "You've made that irrevocably clear."

I swallowed. He wasn't wrong, and I almost wished I hadn't said how much I enjoyed it here. It gave him power over me — gave him the power to hold my employment above me and dangle it like a cat toy, too tempting to ignore but with the possibility of it disappearing the moment he decided my presence wasn't worth the effort.

I didn't know what to do. Didn't know how to handle him like I used to, and in my flailing, I found my tried and true get-out.

"I need to go home," I said, the warble in my voice only slightly noticeable. The moment after I started my sentence, I realized that I couldn't finish it — I couldn't use that excuse, no matter how true it was. I couldn't tell him why I had to go home or who was waiting for me there. Shit. "It's late." Please let that be enough.

His eyes flicked between mine, studying me, watching every minute movement I made. "Fine," he smirked. "But know this… " He moved his face an inch away from mine. "I won't let you go this time, Dana."