Chapter 22

The walk to Blake's office seems to stretch on longer than usual. Kansas eyes me when I pass the register, her curious gaze probing me as I try to cover my trail. I hide behind aisle four and fiddle with a few items on the shelves.

A customer looking at bug spray notices me and smiles. He's an older gentleman, reminding me of the guy who asked me to carry lumber to his truck a while back. That was the day I met Blake, if I remember correctly.

How time flies.

I give the man a friendly nod and peek my head around the aisle to check on Kansas. She's scanning items through her register, completely absorbed with her new customer. Perfect. I take the opportunity and walk with purposeful strides to Blake's office.

His door is ajar, the small inch of space just waiting for me to enter. Yesterday if I was at his door I would have knocked. Now I just walk inside.

Blake glances up from his desk, his gaze unreadable. The warmth in his cheeks and the softness of his features have faded since being in the break room. Is he having second thoughts in a matter of minutes?

He waves me into his office. Without being asked, I close the door behind me. I try to tell myself I'm doing it to be a good employee and not because I hope something will happen between us.

But my dick knows better.

"You still want to go over that file?" I ask, waving the empty file folder in the air.

"Please, sit," Blake instructs.

I slide into the chair closest to his desk, resting the empty folder on the seat next to me. Blake swivels in his high-backed chair – back and forth, back and forth. There is a small squeak that comes from the movement, and I make a mental note to reach out to building services to fix it.

Blake lifts a stack of paper from his desk and looks them over, picking up conversation in a professional clip.

"As I was saying, we got the approval to build in Florida. The next step is to push out my design and have the construction crew begin immediately. Needless to say, I will be heading down to Miami again to make sure start-up runs smoothly."

My mouth flounders open and then smacks closed. Is he joking? My heart sinks when realization comes to surface. Blake doesn't want me anymore. If he did, my confession wouldn't be going ignored. He would have greeted me with welcome arms (and maybe pants down) to show me just how happy he was that I let go of my pride.

That's not what's happening at all, though. Not even close.

My hands ball into angry fists. I shouldn't have waited so fuckin' long to tell him how I feel.

"In my absence, I had planned on leaving the store in your capable hands. I knew you'd see to it that things would run as efficiently as possible," Blake continues.

I pick-up on his verb tense and lean back in my chair. He's talking in past tense. He had planned on allowing me to run the store. Which means he doesn't want me to anymore? He made a comment my hair had gotten longer when we were in the break room.

Does he think I look too sloppy to run his precious store?

"I would," I interject, my defenses gearing up to argue. "Run the store well, I mean. I know just as much about this place as you do."

Blake raises a brow and I push forward, not wanting to lose any ground with my stance.

"Plus, I know the town. The people like me here. Just because I don't have some fancy ass degree or a wardrobe that could sell for enough to feed a small country doesn't mean I'm any less capable than you."

"All true," Blake answers with an amused grin. "And your services with this company are very valued."

The double meaning of his words, whether they're intended or not, turn my cheeks crimson.

"But I wasn't implying that I would be passing off the task to someone else because you weren't capable," Blake explains. "And you are more than welcome to stay here and run the store should you choose."

His voice trails off. The top document in his stack of papers is removed and handed to me. Another contract? I skim over the verbiage, noting the similarities from the first one I signed when I agreed to take this position.

My eyes catch on the phrases "own consent" and "complete anonymity."

"What is this all about, Blake?"

Blake grabs for his cufflink and adjusts is. Then his voice lowers, and there is a wisp of vulnerability in his tone.

"Did you mean what you said? In the break room?"

I own up to my emotions and look Blake square in the eye.

"Yes."

I don't have to pause and think about it. It was my opportunity and I took it. If Blake doesn't want me anymore, fine. But I am a prideful man by nature. Admitting I want him was hard enough. Taking it back simply because he doesn't share the same opinion of me is the coward's way out.

Blake glances down at his paperwork and nods. "Alright then. That is what this is about."

I stare at him without a response. Where the hell is he going with this?

"Callum, you are more help than you realize, professionally speaking. When we were in Florida the first time, despite your minor temper tantrums, you proved to be the most useful and helpful assistant I've ever had."

"Administrative Specialist," I correct sassily.

Blake smirks and rolls his eyes. "Right. In either case, I wanted to invite you to Florida with me again. To help me with the start-up of the new store."

My ego gives my mind a chest bump.

"To be honest, I've been thinking about how to invite you for weeks."

"Why haven't you?"

Blake looks at me and I swallow from being under the intensity of his gaze. "I figured keeping you here – keeping us apart – would probably be the safer route."

"Oh..."

"But after that little confession from you in the break room, my mind was easily swayed. So with that said, would you like to come with me to Florida again?"

I nod once. Twice. "Yes."

Blake stifles a grin and nods to the contract in my hand. "I drew that up in the event you agreed to go. It's a contract stating that if anything should happen between us – physically or romantically – you are doing so of your own consent. Additionally, anything that should happen between us must remain private. I'm sure you can understand why I prefer to keep my private life separate from work."

I glare at the piece of paper. Is this guy fuckin' kidding? I have to sign a piece of paper just to be able to kiss him again? I'd bet my last three paychecks fagtoid Phil didn't have to do this.

Yes, but Phil never worked with him. Remember, he's your boss.

My jaw clenches at the mental reminder. Touché, Mental Callum. Touché.

Ok, so maybe he's doing this to protect himself. I mean, the dude has to be worth more than I can imagine. Millions.

And despite how hot he is, I'm sure there are plenty of leeches out there who would work with him just to get under him...squeezing every last penny they could from a sexual harassment lawsuit or some bullshit like that.

I get it. I do. It still doesn't keep me from being offended though.

"And what if I don't sign it?" I ask, my irritation taking over the reins.

Blake scowls, disappointment falling onto his face. "Then I will once again appoint you to taking over at this store during my absence."

I laugh humorlessly. "So what you're saying is if I don't agree to letting you touch me, I lose the opportunity of opening a new store and furthering my career?"

Blake stiffens and narrows his eyes on me. My snappy attitude is putting him on edge. Despite my genuine irritation for the discussion at hand, having us go toe-to-toe again has my skin tingling with possibility.

I've missed it.

Blake slams a fist on his desk. "Why are you always so difficult?"

I jump in my seat, surprised at the anger in his voice.

"I'm not difficult," I counter. "It was just a question."

"One you already know the answer to."

This time it's me glaring at him. "I don't have a clue, actually. Try me."

Blake stands from his chair. He seems even taller for some reason. My eyes travel down his torso. Then they land on his waist – more specifically on the erection pressing against his matching dress pants.

Blake nods down at it and puts his hand on his narrow hips. "This is why."

I swallow again, trying to adjust my position to hide my excitement.

Blake shakes his head and looks up at the ceiling. "I can't be around you for more than five fucking minutes without this happening, Callum. I can't – I can't control myself when I'm around you."

And there it is. Blake's pride. His confession.

I grab for the pen on his desk without thinking. I slide the cap off and sign the contract while it rests on my knee, not wanting to ruin the moment by asking any other questions. My signature is shaky, and I date it for good measure. Then I set it on his desk.

Blake watches my movements, and his eyes pool with desire. With gratitude.

"When do we leave for Florida?" I ask, trying to hide the lust in my voice.

"Tomorrow."

My boss's eyes raise to meet my gaze once again, and it takes all the strength I have not to throw myself at him.

"Was that all, then?" I ask, pretending to still care about the mounds of work on his desk.

"One more thing."

"What's that?"

Blake glances at the door to make sure it's closed. His tongue slides along his bottom lip, and he walks around his desk with measured steps. The hunger in his gaze makes my stomach quiver. He holds out his hand, urging me to stand with him. My breathing picks up speed when my fingers intertwine with his.

He backs us up one step, then two, until my back is pressed against the wall. His free hand moves under my jaw, tilting my face up with the pad of his thumb.

Then his voice lowers to a whisper. "Kiss me."