Zero Forks - Cat Johnson Page 0,37

glass away and put it back. Again nothing.

“Here. Let me.” Boone leaned over my shoulder. His hand covered mine as he pressed the glass farther in until it connected with some invisible button that started the water flowing.

Only then did he take his hand away.

I angled my head to say thank you and found his face still close. He remained there for a second, his eyes connecting with mine in the glow of the fridge’s built-in night light.

Finally, he drew in a breath and leaned back. “You gotta make sure you hit the button,” he explained, unnecessarily.

“Um, yeah. Got it now. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He nodded and we waited in silence for the eternity that it took my glass to fill with the trickle.

And fill it did until it spilled over onto my hand because I wasn’t paying attention. Or at least, not to the glass. All my attention was on Boone.

The icy cold water was a wake-up call.

I took my glass and what was left of my rational thought and said, “Good night.”

“’Night, Sarah.” The deep timbre of Boone voice and its effect on me followed me all the way to my room.

When was it going to be cold enough to be flannel pajama and bathrobe weather?

Whenever it was, it couldn’t come soon enough.

THIRTEEN

Sarah

I woke early, in spite of my lack of sleep the night before.

The meeting was set for first thing and there was no way I was going to risk being late.

Traffic. A flat tire. There were any number of things that could happen during my commute that could delay me.

So I'd set my alarm for early and sacrificed the extra sleep I so desperately needed. The dark circles beneath my eyes weren’t anything I couldn’t cover with makeup. And they were a small price to pay to get to the office before Jerry.

There was another reason I didn’t mind leaving early. It meant I could avoid any awkward sunrise encounters with Boone.

After that midnight moment in the kitchen, I needed some time to get my libido in check.

But damn him, Boone managed to even flirt with me when he wasn’t there. He’d left me a pastry wrapped in cellophane next to my travel coffee mug. And next to that was a note.

Have a great day. See you tonight. Boone

Okay, maybe there wasn’t anything overtly flirty about the words he’d written. It just somehow felt flirty.

Of course, that could just be me. My interpretation. My very skewed interpretation. All because I couldn’t look at Boone without drooling.

Dammit, why couldn’t he have been a dickhead like Jerry, instead of being so sweet? If he was a jerk, he’d be easy to resist. It wouldn’t matter how sexy he was on the outside.

But Boone wasn’t rotten at the core. He was bright and shiny all the way through.

In fact, his only real flaw was his overt optimism. For a born and learned pessimist like me, Boone’s constant sunshiny disposition was a bitter pill to swallow at times.

And if that was really his only flaw—besides his tendency to cuss, which he was working on—I was in big trouble. Particularly since he was going to be my date to that damn wedding.

Did I really invite him? I was kind of hoping I’d dreamed that whole thing.

That decision was definitely made during a moment of weakness.

I probably should stay stone cold sober during that event, as painful as it was going to be, just to be safe. Though doing that, with my ex there, might cost me my sanity.

I’d be better off just giving in. Letting loose and giving myself to Boone. That idea sounded a little too good to me, which meant I’d better forget about it.

The dead last thing I needed in my life right now—or ever—was to fall for a hot as hell farmer over a decade my junior. I was on the path to a promotion. My career should be—make that definitely was—my focus.

No dalliances with Boone or any other man for that matter. I couldn’t afford the distraction.

Though I was plenty distracted now.

I forced my attention back to the presentation on my computer.

I’d been sitting at my desk proofing the slides on the PowerPoint to make sure nothing had slipped by me last night in my exhaustion.

Speaking of being tired—time for another cup of coffee.

Wishing I had another one of whatever that sweet thing was that Boone had packed for me to take this morning, I headed for the break room, empty mug in hand.

I’d been the first