Foolish of me to think he wouldn’t notice. An image of Cat swims before me—her skin flushed, her eyes too bright, her lips swollen. I’m such an idiot.
I meet his gaze, direct and steady because I can’t afford to lose ground. I’m not going to insult his intelligence, but I have to make it seem like I’ve got it under control.
I shake my head. “It won’t happen again.”
“You sure about that?” Jackson leans back on the stool and scrubs a hand over his jaw.
I give a sharp nod. “I’m sure.”
He narrows his gaze on me. “My sister isn’t prone to acts of passion.”
Really? Could have fooled me. She’s been burning me up since I met her.
I shrug. “Like I said, it won’t happen again. It’s nothing either of us wants.”
“All right, I just don’t want it to be a problem.”
“It won’t be.”
“Good.”
Jackson starts to talk about the crops, and I listen, only half paying attention, my mind on Cat. Yes, I’m attracted to her. And I sure as hell wouldn’t mind screwing her, but isn’t this a path to self-destruction?
It’s my pattern. Talk myself into a good situation, start to get settled, and then find a way to fuck it all up.
Because an affair with Cat is never gonna end well. She deserves a man that’s stable and committed, like she is. I’m thirty-six years old, and all I have to show for it is a hundred dollars and a fifteen-year-old pickup truck. Cat needs a good man, a provider that will take some of that considerable load off her shoulders, not add to it.
Yeah, we’ve got an uncanny amount of chemistry, but the best-case scenario for us is an affair that ends horribly, forcing me to move on. Again.
So giving in to this pull with her is my way to implode. Again.
How many times do I have to start over before I just can’t do it anymore?
There’s only one reasonable choice in front of me.
I’ve got to shut the door on this thing between us, and then I’ve got to put my head down and do my fucking job.
I’m tired of being my own worst enemy.
I’m ending it before it can begin.
I’m not going to ruin a good thing because of a woman—not again.
8
Cat
I’m sitting at my desk eating lunch when Caden appears. At the threshold, he puts his hand on the doorknob. “Can I come in?”
Nodding, I swallow the bite of my turkey sandwich, which turns to sawdust halfway down my throat. “Sure.”
He shuts the door, enclosing us in the room, which is immediately too small for comfort. In silence, he sits on the chair across from me and leans forward, putting his elbows on his splayed knees. “We need to talk.”
“Okay.” Something tells me this isn’t about business. I open my mouth to say it was a mistake, but he beats me to it.
He laces his fingers. “What happened was a mistake.”
Of course it was. I was just about to say that, but now that he’s said it first, it’s cutting—like a rejection instead of common sense.
My chin tilts. “I believe I said that before you kissed me.”
“You did.” He looks past me, to the wall lined with bookshelves at my back. “You were right.”
My spine goes rigid, even though it’s what I want, what needs to happen. As flippantly as I can manage, I say, “I usually am.”
A smile ghosts over his lips. “Are you happy with the job I’ve been doing so far?”
How could I not be? In the short time he’s been here, my professional life has gotten infinitely easier. My personal life is another matter, but that’s not important here.
I lean back in my chair. “Yes, you’re good at your job. The crew likes and respects you, and Wyatt and Jackson are thrilled.”
He nods, short and sharp. “And what about you?”
I clear my throat. “You were a good hire.”
“Not glowing, but I’ll take it.” He meets my eyes, scrubs a hand over his jaw. “We have a good thing here. Everyone is happy. I don’t want to ruin it fucking around with the boss.”
It makes perfect, logical sense. It’s absolutely correct. But it sticks in my sternum that he has better stamina and more control over our attraction than I appear to. He can resist, whereas I seem to melt whenever he touches me. It’s a blow to my ego, but I’m positive I can get over it.