much I want to talk to her about?
I’m sick of these baby steps, of holding back, of Jessica and her whining and complaining, of this little dance that Kyra and I unknowingly have been swaying to.
“What are you doing here, Brad? Why have you followed me in here?”
I can’t answer that, because whatever things I’ve been feeling and thinking about her, she doesn’t seem to feel the same about me. Her irritation speaks volumes. “I just … I …” I sound like a blubbering, blundering idiot. That’s what she has reduced me to.
“What were you doing sitting in my chair the other day?”
“What?” I attempt deflection, sounding more indignant than I should.
“You were at my desk, making yourself quite at home from the looks of it.”
My insides churn as those gorgeous eyes—the ones I see each night when I rest my head against my pillow—now look through me.
“Are you looking to take over my role?” she asks, giving me an out which I grab with both arms. A laugh tumbles out of my mouth.
“I was going to write you a note and I was looking for a piece of paper.”
“I didn’t see any note.”
“That’s because I didn’t write it.”
“What were you going to write?” She lifts her eyebrow and looks at me as if she doesn’t believe me, and she shouldn’t believe me. I’m no good for her. Even though I can’t take my eyes off her, I’m trouble for this woman.
She should walk away.
She should, but even if she tries, I won’t let her.
“I can’t remember now,” I say, hastily. “It couldn’t have been that important.”
“No?”
“No.”
“It couldn’t have been important,” she echoes.
“Whatever it was went clean out of my head because you walked in and knocked the wind right out of my lungs.” I can’t believe what I’ve said.
Have I overstepped my boundary?
Did I read her signals wrong that night when she showed me the tattoo on her back? When she told me about the other tattoo further down?
Her frown deepens.
I take my chance and confess. “You all dressed up for city hall, Lewis. You with tattoos and those killer heels. I’m having trouble letting go of that image.”
Her eyes widen, in confusion. I wonder if she can sense the sizzling simmering tension between us. Something in the air zings and zaps, and it’s too strong, too palpable to not be real.
“I see,” she says, smoothly sidestepping my comment and reacting as if I’d told her we needed two boxes of crackers for the next food night. I try to think quickly but it’s almost impossible with her this close to me. It’s like wading through honey. My brain fogs up. I get a picture of her in my head. I see her tattoos. I can almost feel the velvety texture of her arms and shoulders. Except that she’s wearing her customary sweatshirt and sneakers now, and her arms fold together as she waits for my answer.
I suck in a breath, scrambling to find the right words to say next.
Tell her the truth.
This woman has flipped every idea I ever had about her, she’s brought me to my knees to the point that I almost don’t recognize the man who came here under with evil intent.
I can’t push her away. I don’t want to. I feel the connection between us so acutely now that her eyes are burning into mine.
My doubts deepen.
What I’m doing isn’t right; going undercover like a Trojan horse. Tricking her into leaving Greenways no longer seems easy. I don’t feel good about tricking her into doing something that will be so wrong for her, and so right for me.
I need to confess.
“What are you doing here, Brad?” she repeats.
I try to buy more time, because telling the truth doesn’t come easy. Lying does. I’ve lied about who I am. Who Emma is. I’ve lied about the reason I’m at Redhill.
I’ve even lied about my name. She will hate me when she finds out, and therein lies my dilemma: I want her to like me, but when she sees me for the devil I am, all hell will break loose. “Here specifically? In the storeroom?”
“Here at Redhill.”
Pinpricks needle in my gut. She’s onto me. “I told you,” I say, putting on my smooth exterior. Hands in pockets, charming her with my smile. Except she doesn’t smile back. She’s not so easy to charm. “I feel the need to help and do my part.”
She opens her mouth, but I put my finger to her lips, making the