CHAPTER ELEVEN

At fifteen minutes to quitting time, the Chief Analytics Officer taps on my office door.

Sarah is my direct supervisor, although I interact more with Bash than her.

"Hey, great work on the Posado file. Everything looks fantastic. Want to go out and celebrate?"

I blink at the invitation. Usually, no one asks me to go out after work.

Then again, I also run out of here like my ass is on fire every evening.

"I would love to, but my neighbor is watching my son for me and expects me in half an hour. Thank you, though. Who's all going?"

"All the department heads and their bosses, except Bash."

My mind races with possibilities of what Bash might be doing instead…all of them dirty.

"Well, have fun!" I wave her off before finishing that last thing on my docket.

Once done, I gather up my keys and purse, hustling outside.

The wind howls, barreling between the tunnel of skyscrapers looming overhead.

Luckily, I pulled my hair into a French braid today.

Weaving through the throng of people, I peek at my watch.

Shit, only five minutes.

If I don't catch this sub, I'll have to wait for another, and then I'll be late to relieve Mrs. Jenkins.

I zoom forward while mentally listing everything I need to do tonight for tomorrow when—

BAM!

My face collides with something harder than rock, and I bounce back.

When I realize it's a person, I start to apologize, only to see it's Bash.

"You ok, deoring?"

"Sorry. I didn't see you there. I was thinking."

"In a hurry?"

"Yes. I need to get home to my babysitter because she has plans tonight."

"You're on the way to the sub, right?" I nod, not sure where he's going with this. "Come on, I know a shortcut."

Bash takes my elbow and steers me into a nearby parking garage.

He leads me over to a sporty-looking silver Porsche that makes my jaw drop.

"What is this?"

"It's my car—and it's faster than the sub. This little baby can whip around traffic quicker than you can blink."

"Bash, I don't know."

"Come on, deoring, it's after hours. Let me spend a bit of time with you."

I sigh before agreeing with a nod. Bash opens the door for me with a small bow, and I slip inside.

Then he strides over to the driver's side and gets in.

Bash starts the engine, and I swear this thing purrs.

He revs the gas with a waggle of his eyebrows, and I can't help but laugh.

I catch him staring at me intently, and I suddenly feel self-conscious.

"What?"

"Do you have any idea how beautiful you are? I'd do just about anything to see that smile."

An incredulous snort escapes me, and Bash shoots me a crooked grin laden with sadness.

As if he wishes I could see me through his eyes.

Looking away, Bash backs out, and true to his word, zips through traffic.

I sink into the leather passenger seat as tension coils in my gut.

Being with him sets butterflies flapping in my stomach.

The balance of my carefully crafted life teeters at the thought of building something with this man.

Like he's too good to be true, and everything is one step away from blowing up in my face.

A high-pitched squeal echoes in the tiny car—mine—when Bash rounds a corner without slowing down.

I clutch the door handle, panting, while the crazy Boggart just arches a brow.

"You said you were in a hurry."

"Yeah, but I want to get there alive."

Bash rolls his eyes. "Deoring, I have preternatural senses, I'll get you home in one piece—although I would rather be taking you out to dinner."

The butterflies riot inside of me.

"Mmm, dinner sounds nice. Too bad I'm already eating with another guy."

"Another guy? Damn. Let me guess—is he about four feet tall with dark hair and an obsession with superheroes?"

"Nailed it. Are you jealous?"

Bash takes my left hand, bringing it up to his lips to kiss my knuckles.

"Honestly? Only of his toy collection."

"You like toys, Mr. Ettin…because I have quite the collection myself."

He turns his head to stare at me, the pink glow of his eyes even brighter in the evening dimness.

"Don't call me ‘Mr. Ettin' unless you want me to take you over my knee and spank your ass. As for your collection, I would very much like to see it. Will you show me how you play with your toys?"

My mouth goes dry, but before I say anything, my cell buzzes.

I dig it out of my purse, seeing that it's my neighbor, asking me to call her if I can.

Dialing her number, I press a hand against my stomach as worry settles in its depths.

"Hey, Mrs. Jenkins, is Jake alright?"

"Oh yes, dear, nothing to worry about there, but I am the bearer of bad news—your fridge isn't working. Jake went to get a snack, and everything was warm. It must've died earlier in the day. I've thrown out all the food for you already."

My mind runs a mile a minute as I calculate how much repairs will cost along with a whole month's worth of groceries.

I thank my neighbor and hang up, slumping into the leather seat.

"Is Jake okay?" Bash asks gently.

"Yes. It's my fridge. It kicked the bucket sometime today, and all the food inside is bad."

"Please understand I'm not trying to be intrusive, but you taste devastated."

"Taste?"

"Mhm. Emotions are to me what flavors are to you."

"That's…interesting."

Bash shrugs. "Was this fridge special to you?"

"If you're asking if I have some sentimental attachment to it, then no."

"But you are upset?"

"Of course, I'm upset! Wouldn't you be?"

He scratches his head, confusion clouding his expression.

"Um, no, I wouldn't be."

It occurs to me that this scenario wouldn't be terribly distressing for him.

With his money, all Bash has to do is snap his fingers, and a whole new fridge full of food would be delivered.

"Never mind," I mumble, trying to ignore the ache inside of me whenever I remember how rich he is.

And how damn poor I am.

"Ah, crap."

"Wyn, what's wrong?"

"Everything I had planned for dinner was in the fridge."

"Ok, then let's grab something to go—my treat."

"I'm not a charity case!"

"No, you're not. You're my friend, and friends help one another. Don't let your pride keep you from finding peace in a bad situation."

Pride—the word makes me flinch because it's the very thing u??í said drove a wedge between até and me.

"Alright, but just this once because it's an emergency."

"On my honor, just this once. Next time, I'll let you go hungry."

Bash smirks when I grumble, and I swallow the urge to stick my tongue out at the man.

After sending a quick text to Mrs. Jenkins, I drop my phone back in my purse and turn to Bash.

"Next dinner is my treat, ok?"

"Sure thing."

"I mean it. I'll make an amazing wohanpi. It's one of Jake's favorites."

"What's wohanpi?"

"It's a traditional Lakota stew. Iná —my mom—would make it all the time when I was growing up. It's made with bison, vegetables, and spices."

"Sounds delicious. It's a date."

The butterflies inside my stomach swoon, and I can't help but smile at my knight in shining dress suit.

Twenty minutes later, we pull up to my apartment complex.

Bash's Porsche looks so out of place, like a shiny new penny surrounded by rusted bottle caps.

He's out of the car before I can tell him not to worry about it, opening my door for me. I scowl.

How dare he be such a gentleman—doesn't he know how hard he's making this for me?

Together we walk up the three flights of stairs to my apartment, and I dig my keys out.

When I open the door, Jake is a blur, rushing to hug me.

"Hey ?hi?k?í! How was your day?"

"Super great! I got an A in spelling! Ooo, it smells like Chinese!"

"Mr. Ettin bought dinner."

Jake looks past me to see Bash, and his smile grows even bigger.

"My best Boggart friend! Is he eating dinner with us, too?"

"Erm, if he wants. There's certainly enough."

"I would be delighted," Bash says, squeezing through the doorframe to set down his handful of carry out.

Mrs. Jenkins' eyes bug out when she takes in my boss's towering form.

She waggles her brows at me, and I flush at her insinuation.

"Thank you again for watching Jake."

"Anytime, dear. Sorry about your fridge. If you need to use mine for the time being, it's pretty empty. I mostly eat oatmeal these days."

"You're the best. I'll probably take you up on that offer."

"You have a spare key, just come in. See you all later."

She leaves with a wave, and I go into the kitchen to get plates and silverware.

When I come back, Jake and Bash are deep in discussion.

"If you're a Boggart, can you shadow walk—you know, turn into smoke and scare people?"

"Jacob!" I reprimand, crossing to the dining table.

"It's okay. He's doing a school project about Boggarts—who better to ask? And yes, Jake, I can turn to smoke, but I don't give people nightmares. Leaves a bad taste in my mouth."

"Because you're such a nice guy, right, Mom?"

"Really nice."

Too nice for me.

Bash dishes out fried rice onto all of our plates while I spoon on extra vegetables for Jake.

He glares until he sees Bash is eating just as many, and then he grins.

The kid's only seen my boss twice and already has him on a pedestal.

Jake stares at Bash with such adoration that my stomach balls up again.

If everything between Bash and I goes south, it's not just my heart on the line.

It's my son's, too.