Keeping You Away - Kennedy Fox Page 0,29

grand tour, she takes me into the small office that smells like engine oil and Old Spice. She turns and stares at me. At first, she hesitates, then just comes out and says what’s on her mind. Something I know isn’t always easy for her.

“Can we forget about Friday? I’m absolutely humiliated by my behavior.”

I lean my shoulder against the frame of the door and cross my arms over my chest. Smirking, I shake my head. “No way. Forget seeing you down in your underwear, begging me to sleep on your couch? It’s been on repeat in my head all weekend.”

She groans. “When you say it like that, it sounds much worse than what really happened, though, it’s still pretty bad.”

“Whiskey is your kryptonite. But I kinda like that about you, Gemma. You weren’t so uptight.”

“I’m not uptight, Tyler.”

The way she says my name has me swallowing hard. She’s trying so hard to convince me, but it’s not gonna work.

I grin. “No?” I tuck my hands in my pockets and shrug. “Okay, well maybe we both are. You more than me, though,” I tease.

She glares at me, and I laugh. Gemma grabs a book from the desk, then changes the subject. She sits and flips it open.

“This is the schedule book where we write the appointments. It’s old-school, but Dad prefers not to have to get on the computer for anything, so I save it electronically but also write it in here. If you ever wonder what’s planned for the week, it’s in here.” She taps her finger on the pages. Her handwriting is as meticulous as I remember it.

I lean over and look at the calendar. She tilts her head, aware of how close I am. Though I pretend I don’t notice how her breasts rise and fall with each of her breaths, I do.

“Awesome, seems straightforward,” I say, and my breath brushes against her skin. Goose bumps form on her arms, and I take a step back, needing space. Those old emotions threaten to come to the surface, but I force them away.

“Great.” She stands and walks out of the office. Before following her, I regain my composure, then meet her back in the waiting room. Only three chairs sit against the wall in front of the counter that’s big enough to hold a computer, keyboard, and for a person to write a check. Yes, a check, because they’re so damn old-fashioned here. Mimi still refuses to get a debit card.

“That’s pretty much all I have for you, and there’s still a few hours before lunch.” She doesn’t look up at me as she types.

“What do I do then? Your dad isn’t meeting with me until after lunch.”

“Not sure. Wash the windows? Sweep the floor? Clean the bathroom?”

Though she’s messing with me, the windows are filthy. Instead of sitting around, I decide to make myself useful.

“Alright, where are the cleaning supplies?”

“I wasn’t serious.”

“Yeah, but look at them. I can take care of it and anything else you need, then meet your dad after lunch.”

For the first time since the office, she meets my eyes again. Her gaze nearly paralyzes me in place, and I wonder if she feels it too.

“Under the sink in the break room. Extra rags are in the supply closet.”

I nod and get to work. I find a bucket, soap, and spare towels. After filling it with scalding water, I grab my supplies and go outside. I’m drenched with sweat after washing one window from top to bottom. It’s the distraction I need, and I lose myself in these damn windows.

I try not to let my thoughts wander too much, and each time Gemma pops into my head, I glance at her. After all this time, it’s hard to believe she’s only feet away. I notice her mannerisms are still the same. When she’s concentrating hard, she bites her bottom lip and tilts her head. I used to find it so adorable when I’d tell her about the military because she just didn’t fully understand it. She used to be a crossword junkie and still taps her pen against the paper when she’s lost in thought. It takes me over two hours to clean the glass, and it’s so clean when I look inside that I can see Gemma staring at me.

When I catch her, she glances away.

Boundaries, I remind myself. She’s fucking engaged to a man who can give her everything she’s ever wanted. What do I have to offer other than a fucked-up