8. Mel

One week later…

“Where do you see yourself in five years?” Davis pulls his face into a serious expression, and I press my lips together to keep from laughing.

“They aren’t going to ask that.”

He raises an eyebrow at me, staying in the role of interviewer.

“I don’t know the ‘they’ you’re referring to, Ms. Malone. But I’d like an answer.”

I try not to laugh at the way Davis arches an eyebrow at me.

It’s doubtful the bank I’ve been working with for the last eight years will ask such a standard question, but I guess I should be prepared for anything.

“Well, Mr. Whitlock, since you’ve asked such an original question, it will take me a few moments to think of an answer.”

Davis’s lips twitch, and I’m immediately distracted. Where I’d like to be right now is exploring how those lips would feel on my skin and running my hands over the abs I’ve been getting a peek of every morning once Davis finishes his workout.

It turns out one of the spare rooms is set up as a home gym and he makes use of it, grunting and sweating behind the closed door every morning and emerging looking like a Greek god in sweatpants.

Over the last week, we’ve settled into an easy routine. He rides off to work, and I stay here and work until he comes home in the evening.

The we make dinner together, we take Hercules for a walk in the woods, and watch a movie sitting on opposite ends of the oversized couch. I’ve been on the back of his bike two more times when he took me up to the mountain to see the view.

But other than that, Davis has kept his distance ever since he came back from Charlotte with my belongings, which are mostly still in suitcases in his spare room apart from the clothes and toiletries I’ve needed.

It doesn’t make sense to unpack when I’ll only need to pack them up again when I leave.

The thought is like a lead balloon in my stomach, bringing me back to the present. To the man perched across the table from me pretending to be a serious finance man interviewing me as practice for the real thing tomorrow.

My palms sweat just thinking about tomorrow.

It’s the first round of the interview process, and I’m doing it over video call. I came clean to my boss about the Jeff situation and where I was staying, and he was understanding which I’m grateful for. No more pretending to be somewhere I’m not which takes a load of stress off.

Jeff will probably use it against me when I’m not in the office for the interview tomorrow, but as long as I stay focused and give them all the reasons why I’m the best person for the job, then it shouldn’t matter what Jeff says.

“I’m waiting, Ms. Malone.”

The sound of my name in his low, guttural voice has a delicious shiver running down my spine. The problem I’m having is staying focused when there’s a hot biker sitting opposite me and sharing my space.

My tummy does flips whenever I hear his bike coming up the drive, and when we’re in the same room, I can’t keep my eyes off him. Even now, my core’s tugging in a way that’s distracting, and I press my thighs together under the table to try to ease the pressure.

“In five years’ time I’d like to still be with NC Finance. I love what I do, and I have a good working relationship with my colleagues. It’s a progressive company, and there’s no other financial institution I’d rather work for. I love working in the city, and I can’t imagine leaving for anything.”

There’s a flicker of something in Davis’s eyes, and he looks down quickly. Is that disappointment? It’s been a fun week staying here, but I’ll have to go back sometime. He must know that, and if he feels disappointed at the mention of my going back to the city, then why has he kept me at arm’s length all week?

“You’re ready.” He pushes up from the table and heads into the kitchen with Hercules padding after him.

I gather up my notes and laptop and take them to my room. When I come back, Davis is in the kitchen chopping chicken pieces with the music playing.

I grab a knife and a cutting board and get started on the vegetables, automatically falling into our usual routine. It’s a nice routine and comfortable, apart from the growing ache between my legs.

Later that night I lie in bed, listening to the branches scratching against the cabin walls. My body tangles in the sheets, and no matter what I do I can’t get comfortable. I’m too hot, wearing too many clothes.

I need to sleep, or I won’t be on form for the interview tomorrow. But every time I close my eyes, Davis’s abs swim into my vision. I hear his hushed voice whisper my name, and lust consumes me.

My hands runs down my body over my clammy skin and between my legs. But it’s not enough. I want to feel his big hands on me.

I’m sure there’s an attraction between us, and I wonder if he’s lying in bed aching for me the way I am for him. I don’t know why he’s holding back, why he doesn’t make the moves when the attraction between us is so obvious.

Maybe he thinks I’m vulnerable, but we’ve talked about Jeff, and I think he understands that I was over him a long time ago.

Maybe it because of the age gap. I’ve found out Davis is six years younger than me. Maybe that’s what’s stopping him. He thinks I’m too old. But the attraction I sense from him is real. He wants me, I’m sure of it, and I sure as hell want him.

Making a decision, I swing my legs over the side of the bed.

What’s the point in being the older woman if you can’t make the first move?