excitement in the mundane. I love that about her.
One day, I was having a particularly shitty morning when I walked in, and she was arranging a bouquet of roses at her desk. I asked if a boyfriend had sent them, and she replied no.
She’d bought them because, as she said, “Sometimes, it’s good to do sweet things for yourself to remember that you’re pretty damn awesome.”
She turned my morning right around with that one.
Since then, I show up fifteen minutes early for my daily meeting with Branson just so I can soak up her sunshine.
Katie wasn’t someone I had my sights on. She was young, fresh out of college, and my boss’s assistant. Those things were a no-go from the beginning.
Then, I started to fall for her.
I can’t tell you when I realized I loved Katie McGee. Maybe it built slowly with her corny puns or the silly sweaters she wore. It could have been her talks about work, making me realize how smart she was.
She’s so fucking smart.
She analyzes ratings data like no one I’ve ever seen and has incredible input. She works hard and always pays attention when you’re speaking.
Our conversations were short, but they were fun. She wanted to hear about my dating life, which I told her about in the most gentlemanly way because it seemed to make her happy, and it felt like a good way to keep that budding attraction I was building for her at a distance.
It also wasn’t a secret that she longed for Branson. I saw it in the way she watched him walk into the room. How she batted her lashes for him and sought his approval in a way that went beyond an assistant wanting to impress her boss. She longed for him to desire her as a woman.
He didn’t, but I did.
I never thought about acting on my feelings toward her. She was the cute-as-fuck assistant who I imagined naked on more than one occasion. Sure, she’s brilliant and funny, but she was untouchable. That certainly had to do with the attraction. I made a vow to myself to never act on that emotion. That was, until a few weeks ago, when she asked me to show her how to get Branson’s attention.
I knew it was a bad idea, but she was so damn persistent. There she was, looking gorgeous as fuck in that green dress, chugging champagne with all the sunshine dimmed from her. I offered her a reprieve. What I got was a solicitation.
I didn’t mean to kiss her, but when she looked at me with those green eyes and brushed her body against mine, her breath on my lips, I couldn’t help myself. She leaned in, and I took that kiss with everything I had.
Her lips were as sweet as honey, and her tongue tasted like cherries. My body tingled, my balls tightened, and I felt this surge race through me, down to my toes. I had to shift to hide my growing erection, but it wasn’t just lust. Something awoke inside me. It was in my head and my chest, and damn if I didn’t feel it in my gut.
At that moment, I knew the attraction I had for her was greater than what I had been telling myself. I’m not a territorial man, but seeing her bent over Branson’s desk the next morning did me in. I couldn’t let Branson have her. I needed her for myself. At least, I needed to see if what I had been feeling was real.
Over dinner, we connected. At the soup kitchen, I felt another tug. I was being selfish for whisking her away from Branson on Christmas Eve. I wasn’t ready to hand her over yet. I still needed to know.
When she was with me in my family’s home, sitting beside me, it felt right. I could picture her there fifty years from then. When she played with Ella, I had this vision of her playing with our own child. I’d known her for years, and yet in those twenty-four hours, this void that had been between us was filled. We dived deeper and deeper and then …
When she was beneath me, I felt it.
I felt the spark.
And then I panicked.
On the car ride back from Connecticut, her phone rang, and it was Branson. I found myself worried that her feelings for Branson were still greater than her feelings for me. That’s because, at the heart of it, I’m a selfish fuck.
And then other thoughts crossed