Chapter 11

Ihad not seen that coming. Blinking stupidly, I wondered what on earth had possessed me to kiss her like that—like I had intended to fuck her right there on her desk irrespective of the fact that we were responsible for planning my mother's wedding together.

It was insane. Reckless. Irresponsible.

None of those things were behaviors I typically engaged in, but it looked like I'd broken the mold for her. Fuck.

There had always been a lot of sexual tension between us, but I hadn't been planning to act on it. I also couldn't say I regretted it, though.

I didn't.

She was beautiful as she bent over and scooped her shirt back up, slid it on, and then brushed her fingers through her hair. Fluffing it and trying to make it look like it hadn't just had my hands in it, she dragged in a deep breath before she finally looked at me again.

"I don't think we should tell anyone about this," she said, softly at first but appearing to regain her confidence as she spoke. "I'm just starting out and I don't want anyone to think that us fooling around together is why the company is working so well."

Hunting down my own shirt, I pulled it on and met her gaze. "Agreed. If it gets out, the attention we'll get will overshadow that of my mother's wedding. I don't want to steal her thunder or have the public focusing on us instead."

She nodded immediately, her head bouncing up and down as she straightened her clothes. I lost track of what I'd been doing as I watched her, momentarily enraptured by how she dabbed at her swollen lips and swiped her fingers under her eyes in the hopes of clearing any smudged makeup.

As she looked back at me, her lips suddenly curved into an amused smile. "Need some help there, Mr. Grumpy?"

"Mr. Grumpy?" I echoed after her, frowning as I cocked my head. "Who's grumpy and what do I need help with?"

"Your shirt." She lowered her chin, chuckling. When I looked down, I realized I'd misbuttoned it. Badly.

Utterly flabbergasted by the mistake, I gaped at my own shirt and Serenity nearly fell over laughing. "Gosh, the look on your face right now."

I didn't even know what to say. I'd managed to button the last button into the second-to-last hole. A toddler could've done it better. "This never happens to me."

"Yeah, I hear you," she murmured, reaching for my shirt and helping me fix it. She chuckled again and patted my chest. "There we go. All done."

"Thanks," I muttered, desperate to make my escape at this point. "Are you ready to leave yet or…"

She cleared her throat, nodding as she spun back to her desk and started stuffing things into her handbag. "I'm so ready to leave. Let me just get my stuff. It always seems to spread itself out across my entire office during the day."

"Like what?" I asked curiously. "What do you need other than a wallet, phone, and keys?"

She shrugged, not looking at me as she flitted around the room as gracefully as a butterfly in flight. I'd seen her clumsiness. I knew it wasn't put on, but looking at her now, I never would have believed it was true.

"Oh, you know. Just stuff. Lip gloss. Chap stick. Swatches of fabric. Pens. Notebooks. My lucky carpet. Oh, and my new nail polish."

My eyebrows swept up. "Your lucky what now?"

"Carpet," she said, completely matter of fact. When she glanced at me and saw whatever look I had on my face, she frowned for a moment, then laughed. "Right. You don't know this about me yet. I have a lucky magic carpet."

My head tilted a little bit further. "At risk of repeating myself, what is a magic carpet and why is it lucky?"

"Have you never watched Aladdin?" she asked, clearly caught off guard. "That can't be true."

"Well, I mean, I know about Aladdin, but did I ever watch it? Not that I can remember. I do know there's a magic carpet in the story, but what makes yours magical?"

"I bought it at Disney the weekend before I gathered the courage to leave my husband," she said, her inflection not changing at all. A flash of something in her eyes made me think she felt a little bit triumphant about it, though. "Therefore, it has magical powers. That's also what makes it lucky. I made a decision, followed through, and that was when my luck changed."

Dear God. How much more is there to this woman? I was starting to suspect I'd barely scratched the surface, which was fine. I had not known her very long and we hadn't spoken a great deal about ourselves, but this wasn't helping my little intrigue problem at all.

Once she was done gathering her things—magic carpet safe and accounted for—we walked out together. We'd hardly stepped out of the revolving door when flashes started going off, blinding me. Paparazzi surged toward us.

There were so many of them that it made me feel claustrophobic, with protective instincts I'd never felt before rising like an angry dragon within me. Reaching for Serenity, I was about to sling my arms around her shoulders to tuck her into my side when I realized she didn't seem surprised at all.

In fact, even with everyone crowding her, she seemed at ease, managing a smile as she waved at them. "Have a good night, guys. Stay safe."

What in the ever-loving fuck?

I walked her to her car, though. That angry dragon made me do it, ensuring she didn't get mobbed when all she was trying to do was get home. When we got to her door, she opened it and then smiled at me. "Good night, Dash. Thanks for everything."

I nodded, desperation clawing at my insides to get away from the cameras. I didn't know how she took it in stride, but I sure as hell hadn't learned that trick. For as long as I could remember, they had hounded me and my family, but I didn't want everything that happened in my life to be featured in blogs and newspapers.

It was unnatural—and not a life I'd chosen. Personally, it was the only part of my life that I despised and I would certainly never wish the vultures a good night.

As I left, I turned to call to her one last time. "It's good practice to keep these guys away from your building if you want to succeed!"

True, but I probably sounded like an asshole. Either way, the lack of surprise she'd displayed told me this was a regular occurrence for her when she left for the day. They probably knew exactly when she came and went, which was fine if she was okay with it, but her clientele wouldn't always be. I knew a ton of people who would be put off by it.

Shaking my head, I climbed into my own car, drove home, and found myself watching her show later that night. I hadn't searched for it, but it came on while I was eating and I didn't change the channel, deciding to learn more about her by watching it instead.

It wasn't anything deep, but about two episodes in, I'd already learned a few things. For example, she got freaked out by sandwich spread and hated depths. She loved daisies and seemed to have a rather strange obsession with Disney movies and any kind of zombie flick.

As I kept watching, I started feeling badly about how I'd left her. Clearly, this woman was a genuinely good person. There was a reason she'd been so popular on the show, and it had everything to do with being kindhearted and real.

Eventually, I blew out a heavy breath and pulled my phone out of my pocket. Opening my messaging app, I searched for her name and fired off a quick text.

Me: I didn't mean to rush off. Hope you got home safe and that you're having a good night.

It wasn't really the apology I'd had planned, but it was as close as I'd get. Less than thirty seconds later, she read the message but didn't respond. She left me on read?What the hell?

My mind started racing, my heart thundering in my chest. That had never happened to me before, and I really didn't like it.

I tried to carry on watching the show, but it had lost its appeal. Grabbing my remote control, I smashed my thumb down on the power button and decided to call it a night. This whole thing with Serenity Halverson was getting to me and I refused to let it.

She'd left me on read and it was probably for the best. That moment in her office had been one of the hottest I'd ever had. If I could, I'd do it again in a heartbeat, but I couldn't. I also didn't want to think about how I felt about that fact. Instead, I marched straight into my bathroom and stripped off my clothes. Then I turned the temperature to freezing cold and let the water flow.

I had no idea what was going on with me, but clearly, I was broken. I didn't behave like this, think like this, or feel like this. Maybe a waterfall of ice-cold water would snap me back to my real self.

If that didn't work, I would be in trouble. Because the alternative was that all these things were happening because I liked her, and that couldn't be true. It just didn't make sense.

I didn't develop silly little crushes and I didn't feel things for women, and yet, I had an uneasy prickling in my gut that made me wonder if this time, with her, perhaps I didn't know myself as well as I thought I did.