The smallest of smirks passes over her lips. “You weren’t an ass, Ford.”
“But . . .”
She chuckles. “There is no but.”
“You’re avoiding me, though.”
“I’m giving you space.”
That’s the last thing I need from her. Space. No, I am desperate to make sure there is no space between us, especially because of the space that’s pulling my family apart.
I don’t need space.
I need . . . hell, don’t go there, man.
I shake my head and curl my fists in my pockets so I’ll keep my hands to myself.
Don’t fucking touch her. She’s untouchable. And you shouldn’t want to touch her. Jesus. But then, I can’t help but blurt out, “I don’t want space from you. Last night was a shit night. I barely slept, eating alone was miserable, and I woke up this morning with one thing on my mind: making sure you were okay. That we were okay.”
“I’m fine, Ford. Asking me to get drinks isn’t going to break me. If anything, it was a good reminder as to where I stand in the company. Sometimes I get so caught up in working closely with you that I forget what I was hired for . . . getting drinks being a huge part of that.”
And that’s where the problem lies, because last night, as I played what I’d said to Larkin over and over in my head, I realized that she is so much more than an assistant.
“Maybe the first year that was your job, when you were getting your feet wet, but not now.” I take a step toward her, but I don’t know for what reason as I keep my hands firmly stuck in my pockets. I just have an urge to be close to her. “I value you more than I think you know. I’ve come to realize you’re one of the reasons I keep working my ass off. You push me, you challenge me, and after how weird things were last night, I realized that I can’t lose you. You could pretty much ask me for anything at this point, Larkin, and I would give it to you.”
And that’s the truth. I would give her anything.
Her eyes slowly flash up to mine, and for a brief second, it feels like she wants to say more, that she wants to reach out as well, close the distance between us. As we stand here, in this god-awful floral-printed room, something deep within me surfaces, something I haven’t felt in a really long time. Something that shakes me to my damn core.
Yearning.
Yearning for something more.
I wasn’t lying when I said she was different, that I would give her anything she wanted, because I would. And maybe it’s being here, on Marina Island, seeing her in her happy place, or maybe it’s being around my family and their incessant comments about how perfect Larkin is for me, but all last night I kept thinking about her in a very nonassistant way. I was considering our friendship and how close we’ve become, how she knows me better than anyone, how she’s the one person I go to for everything—and not just for work but for personal things as well.
I look forward to seeing her in the morning. Catching that smirk of hers.
I love running with her, pushing her harder, challenging her on the roads.
I love the way she can think three steps ahead of me and know what I need emotionally before I even do.
And I love spending time with her.
Yesterday’s tension and distance made for a rude awakening that I need her in my life, and as more than just an assistant.
“You would give me anything, huh?” she says, her voice cracking ever so slightly.
“Anything,” I say, holding my breath.
“If that’s the case . . .” She closes the distance between us, and my mouth goes dry as she pats my chest. “Come have a juice with me downstairs.”
“What?” I ask, in a daze.
“A juice . . . come sit down with me for a second.”
“Oh . . . yeah . . . sure,” I say, stumbling over my words. I wasn’t expecting her to say that. Hell, what was I expecting her to say?
Kiss me?
I’ve lost my ever-loving mind.
I blame the lack of sleep.
Together we walk down to the dining area, where there are some juice pitchers sitting out next to the dry muffins.
“Let me get the drinks this time,” I say, making Larkin smirk as I internally shake off any residual awkwardness. “What do you want?”
“Surprise me. I’ll grab us a table.”
Feeling better already, I take two glasses and fill them halfway up with apple juice and then top the rest off with cranberry. I bring the glasses over to Larkin and set hers down in front of her. “Cranberry-apple, mixed by yours truly.”
“Now that’s first-class service.” She takes a drink, and I sit down across from her. “So, you have your brunch with your family today—are you apprehensive?”
“A little apprehensive. I’m hoping Palmer and Cooper will show up with open minds, but after what happened with Palmer yesterday, I’m going to guess that won’t be the case.”
“Maybe you start off with an apology, set the expectations so they know you want to cooperate, not dictate, which we know is something you tend to do when it comes to your siblings.”
“You think I dictate?”
She grins while taking a sip of her drink. “You’ve copied me on every email you’ve sent them. I’ve seen your responses. Although they’re well thought out and even-keeled, they do come across as dictating. You let them know exactly what’s going to happen, end of story.”
“That’s only because they can’t seem to agree on anything, so I cut off the bickering before it can go any further.”
Larkin reaches out and places her hand on mine. “Just go in with an open heart, okay?”
I stare down at her hand and then back up into her eyes. “Okay,” I answer, feeling a bout of nerves hit me all at once. “What . . . uh, what do you have planned for today besides a run?”
“Changing the subject—how Ford of you.”
I laugh while she removes her hand and finishes off her juice. “I’m going to spend a little time with Beau. I believe we’re going into Seattle for dinner. There’s this pierogi place he was telling me about that I really want to try.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“Also catching up on some work that I pushed aside yesterday. I plan on going to the coffee shop to do it. You know”—she leans in—“to get away from all the flowers for a second.”
“Do you get dizzy in your room?”
“No.” She chuckles.
I lean back, feeling better. “You mean you’re not playing the soundtrack to My Fair Lady, clutching flowers to your chest, and spinning around your room?”
“Do you know how much money I’d give to see you do that?”
“Let me guess, your fourth-quarter bonus?”
“And so much more.” She stands from her chair, and I do as well. We take our empty glasses to the small tray next to the trash and then we walk out of the bed-and-breakfast together. “Thanks for stopping by to check on me.” She nudges my shoulder. “That’s what makes you a good boss.”
“Thanks for being understanding, and I’m sorry again.”
“You don’t need to apologize, Ford.” She squeezes my arm. “We’re cool.” She winks and then takes off. Looking over her shoulder, she calls out, “Have a good day.”