by Lili Valente
Jesus, when Tristan told me, it was all I could do not to spit coffee all over him. I can’t believe the man has no clue you’ve got a thing for him.
Zoey: Neither does anyone else!
You just have super-powered crush-sniffing abilities.
Violet: Ugh. I do. A hazard of raising three daughters. With all four of us dating now, it’s like a romance war zone around here. Someone’s always falling in love, falling out of love, or getting her heart ripped—still beating—from her chest. I’m honestly looking forward to the day when I’m finally too old to hunt for Mr. Right.
Zoey: You’re never too old for love! You just need to find the right guy.
Violet: I just need to find A guy. Period. At my age, you can’t be too picky, honey. Not a whole lot of great catches out there between the ages of forty and fifty.
Zoey: Well, if there is one, you’ll sweep him off his feet.
You’re gorgeous and funny and you make the most amazing pottery I’ve ever seen. My flamingo mug is seriously the highlight of my morning, every morning.
Violet: You’re sweet. And it’s adorable that you think I’ll be this easily distracted from getting the goods on you and the boss man.
Spill it, sweetheart. I need details!
Zoey: There’s not a whole lot to tell. I had to head home right after dinner to give the ferrets their last doses of antibiotics. But I guess things did get a little…interesting before dinner.
Violet: Interesting? What kind of interesting?
Zoey: Oh, you know, just…interesting.
Violet: Fine, keep your secrets, sunshine. I should have known better than to ask. You are the most tight-lipped kid I’ve ever met. I swear, Tristan gossips more than you do.
Zoey: I’m sorry. I can’t help it. I’m just not the type to kiss and tell.
Violet: Oh boy… So, you kissed him, then?!
Was it amazing? Everything you’d dreamed it would be and more?
Send one eggplant emoji for no, two for yes—that way you’re not technically kissing and telling. You’re communicating in non-verbal emoji code.
Zoey: *one eggplant emoji* *second eggplant emoji*
Violet: YAY!! DOUBLE EGGPLANT!! I’M SO HAPPY FOR YOU SWEETIE! You two are going to be so adorable together! I knew the day would come when that sweet, handsome idiot would finally open his baby browns and see the treasure sitting right outside his office.
Zoey: Oh no, it’s not like that, Vi. It’s still just a fake relationship.
I mean, I could tell Tristan enjoyed the kiss, too, but for now, that’s all it was—a kiss that led to me getting fired, followed by a nice dinner, and a semi-awkward hug goodbye.
Violet: WHAT? HE FIRED YOU?!
How could he fire you? Does he have his head shoved completely up his ass? You’re the best thing to happen to this shelter in twenty years!
Zoey: Calm down, Vi. It’s okay.
Violet: I will not calm down. And it’s not okay! Believe me, I used to volunteer here back before the board put Tristan in charge and he hired competent support staff. It was a nightmare. And I honestly don’t care how nice he usually is, this is completely out of bounds!
Zoey: Just wait a second, okay?
Violet: I’m flabbergasted! That he thinks he can get away with this! That he thinks he can fire you a day after sweet-talking you into pretending to be his fiancée without facing consequences for his actions. That’s grounds for a lawsuit right there, honey, and I’m not going to stand by and let you—
Zoey: VIOLET PLEASE LET ME EXPLAIN!
Violet: Okay… Fine…
No need to shout…
Zoey: Tristan did fire me, but only so he could re-hire me in a different position.
That’s why I texted you about the scheduling. From now on, I’m the one in charge of schedules, payroll, and budget.
Violet: Oh my God…
You mean…
Zoey: I’m the boss. Tristan promoted me and demoted himself to my position. Starting tomorrow morning, the corner office is mine.
Violet: Christ…
Well, you know what this means, don’t you?
Zoey: That he’s insane?
Violet: That he’s got it bad for you!!! So bad he’s willing to give up the corner office to eliminate any worries about potentially taking advantage of his position! Honestly, I think it’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.
Zoey: No, Violet. As much as a part of me would like to believe that, this is just the way Tristan is. He’s a rule-follower and a gentleman, and this is the only way he could see to handle a situation that was blurring the lines too much for his comfort. He probably also has a touch of OCD. I’ve always suspected he might, but after seeing how clean his house is, I’m convinced of it. No single man’s house is that clean and meticulously organized. Even the dog-toy area was tidy.
Violet: This is love, Zoey, not OCD.
Zoey: Now who’s crazy?
Violet: You are. Or blind. Just wait, I bet your new assistant is asking you out on a real date before the week is through.
Zoey: Not a fair bet. We’ve already got a date for Wednesday, remember? That’s why I texted you in the first place. And it’s not a real date, it’s a picnic in the square on concert night, when everyone in town will be out and about. It’s a chance to prove to our exes that we’re disgustingly in love. That’s it.
Violet: Keep telling yourself that, sweetie. But don’t be surprised when he makes his move. And don’t let him slip through your fingers. You deserve happiness with a wonderful guy who adores you.
Zoey: I still think you’re crazy, but…thank you. See you Wednesday.
Violet: See you then, but feel free to text tomorrow if you have any exciting developments you need to share. Or swing by after work and join us for supper if you need to spill the good stuff in person.
Zoey: I thought you had enough relationship drama at your house already.
Violet: Oh, but there’s always room for more, honey.
With love, there’s always room for more.
Chapter 7
Tristan
I’m out of my mind.
I have lost my marbles and should seek professional help as soon as possible. I write “get a referral to a therapist” on my calendar for next week, humming as I toss the pen back onto the desk and grab Luke’s leash. I’m heading to work thirty minutes early so I can get the coffee started in the break room and pull paperwork for the morning adoptions—jobs that only yesterday belonged to my assistant. In fact, I’ll be getting to the shelter early and leaving late for the foreseeable future for a grand total of two thousand dollars less per month than I was making before.
True, money isn’t everything, and I was lucky enough to have bought my house during a dip in the market, enabling me to pay it off last year. Even with my car payment, my monthly expenses are relatively low, and it’s not like I have any urge to lead a more lavish lifestyle. My idea of a big weekend involves a long bike ride down a country road, a trip to the farmer’s market, and a bottle of wine shared with friends and family in my backyard or at my dad’s farm.
And it’s not like my job will change all that much—except that I’ll be spending less time with numbers and budgets and more time with the animals that are the reason I took a position with A Better Way shelter in the first place.
In fact, the more I ponder the new order of things, the more…not crazy it seems.
By the time I pull into the parking lot, my dog happily squirming in the passenger’s seat beside me, I’ve decided to scratch that therapist call off the list as soon as I get home.
If it’s madness to be content swapping more joy for less money, then I guess I’ll just have to let my crazy flag fly with pride.
Besides, Boss Lady looks good on Zoey. I round reception to see her re-arranging my old desk, a pencil jabbed into the messy bun atop her head, and can’t help but smile.
Damn, she’s sexy. Even in a pair of jeans and a tight tee covered by
a weathered blue flannel. And now I don’t have to feel like a creep for discreetly admiring the curve of her ass in those jeans…
“There you are.” She bustles out of the office with a stern look on her face and her hands propped on her hips. “We have to talk.”
“All right.” I set my keys on her old desk as Luke welcomes her with a full-body wag. “What’s on your mind, boss?”
Her forehead furrows. “That. The boss thing. I’ve been thinking about it all night, Tristan, and it just doesn’t make sense.”
I cock my head. “It makes sense to me. Now you’re my boss and I’m your employee. Therefore, I don’t have to worry that I’m abusing my position with the fake fiancée business. Problem solved.”
“But the fake fiancée thing is only until January,” she says. “And swapping our positions really doesn’t change anything. Except that now I’m the boss and the one who could be accused of abusing her position of power.”
My lips curve. “It’s okay. I promise. I’m not going to sue you.”
“Well, I wasn’t going to sue you, either.” She crosses her arms with a huff. “And this isn’t funny. I’m serious. Not to mention that this could all be solved by drafting a comprehensive policy condoning consensual interoffice relationships and running it past the board during the next meeting. I mean, I know that doesn’t exactly cover our situation exactly, but it’s close enough.”
“See, you’re already proving to be a superior leader,” I say, smile widening as Luke enthusiastically licks her hand in agreement. “You’ve got a plan already for a long-term solution.”
“Not that long term.” Her eyes plead with me to see reason. “The board meets next month. This could all be taken care of in a few weeks, and you wouldn’t have to be demoted for no reason. You’re so good at your job, Tristan, and I don’t feel—”
“Thank you,” I cut in, as Luke rubs his head repeatedly against Zoey’s thigh, clearly wanting more of her attention than he’s getting. “But I’m not sure I love my job as much as I did a few years ago, back before the business side of things got so overwhelming and I ended up spending half my time in front of my computer. The past six months, the budget cuts, the fundraiser to make up for the budget cuts, all the new forms from the state and the talking with the lawyers about the forms—it’s been a lot. I miss being hands-on with the animals.”
“Even the stool sample part?” She cocks her head, brows raised.
“Even the stool sample part. So as long as you want the promotion and think you can handle it—I, for one, absolutely know you can—I think we should give this new arrangement a shot. At least until after the New Year.”
Zoey sighs, relief softening her features, even though Luke is circling her like a shark in his desperation to be petted. “And then you’ll take your job back?”
“If you really want me to, I will. Yes. But in the meantime, I have to respectfully disagree with you that the ethical situation is the same,” I say, dropping my volume. “Yes, a woman could technically sexually harass her male assistant, but we all know it doesn’t usually work that way. I absolutely feel more comfortable knowing you’re free to be a part of the fake fiancé plan because you truly want to be a part of it, not out of any concern for your job or position.”
“Luke, go lie down, buddy.” Zoey wipes her hand on her jeans with an exasperated sigh as Luke nearly knocks her over in his attempts to steal focus. “Lie down,” she repeats, sending Luke slinking away to his corner.
As soon as my love-struck dog departs, Zoey darts a quick look toward the still empty reception room before stepping closer. “If this is all because of the kiss last night, Tristan, it really isn’t necessary. I didn’t feel sexually harassed or pressured to do anything I didn’t want to do. Honestly. It’s all good.”
“Good.” I hold her gaze, fighting to keep my focus off her lips and my thoughts away from how much I already want to kiss her again. Sending her on her way after dinner last night without another taste of her was fucking torture. “And this shift in operations will help keep it that way. Now, if you’ll excuse me, boss, I need to go take that stool sample from Marvin’s litter box.”
“You’re so darned stubborn,” Zoey says, shaking her head.
“And you’re beautiful,” I say, the words out before I can think better of them.
She rolls her eyes to the ceiling as her cheeks go pink. “Yeah, right. In my garage-sale flannel and my jeans from high school.”
“In your garage sale flannel and jeans from high school,” I repeat in a steady voice, every cell in my body aching to pull her into my arms and show her just how beautiful I think she is.
How sexy.
How damn-near irresistible.
This fake relationship is veering off the rails at the speed of a bullet train, but maybe that’s…all right.
Maybe it doesn’t matter that it took a little bit of pretend to make me realize I have very real feelings for Zoey. It’s not just lust with her; it’s already so much more. I want to get closer to her in every way, to slip through her defenses and get to the heart of this often deeply private woman. I want to know what makes her tick. The silly things that make her happy, the secret things that make her sad, and the erotic things that make her fall apart when she’s naked in my bed.
God, I want that. So fucking much…
Keeping my hands to myself is torturous, especially when she’s looking at me the way she is right now, like she wouldn’t be opposed to being kissed senseless. Her lips are parted, her breath is coming faster, and I can already taste how sweet her mouth will be beneath mine.
I step closer, a heartbeat away from wrapping an arm around her waist and drawing her close, when a distant snapping sound—like the crunch of giant bone snapping in two—fills the air.
Zoey and I both curse before simultaneously launching into motion.
I lead the way with her close behind, racing down the back hallway, out the door, across the yard, and up the stairs to her apartment.
As expected, the door to Zoey’s place has once again been demolished by a bad dog with a breaking and entering problem. The only thing that remains to be seen is whether we’ve reached Luke before he managed to ingest any of Zoey’s clothing.
“No, Luke!” I shout, sprinting through the doorway and lunging for the dog, who is already chewing frantically on something lavender and lacy. “Stop that, bad dog!”
I wrap an arm around his neck and press my finger and thumb into the thick muscles of his jaw, squeezing just hard enough to get him to drop whatever he’s on the verge of devouring, hopefully sparing us another trip to the vet and possible surgery.
The fabric falls from his slobbery mouth and Zoey is there to snatch it up with a moan of dismay. “Oh, Luke. What are we going to do with you, buddy? This was my best bra.”
I glance over, brows lifting as I take in the ripped lace dangling from Zoey’s fingers, suddenly even angrier at my poorly behaved pooch. I know it’s a long shot, and Zoey and I might very well end up staying nothing more than friends, but something primal inside of me is keening at the moon, mourning the loss of the chance to see Zoey’s breasts cradled in purple lace.
“I’m sorry,” I say, clearing my throat when the words come out sounding huskier than I would like. “I’ll replace it. We’ll order you a new one online during lunch.”
Zoey shakes her head. “No, it’s fine. It was old, anyway. But I guess I’m going to have to get a steamer trunk with a lock on it instead of drawers. Something the sock-and-panty bandit can’t open with his paws.”
“No, what you need is a door that’s not going to give out every time a hundred and forty pounds of dog lunges at it.” I stand, releasing Luke, who rolls over on his back, presenting his belly in a show of contrition. “If Luke can get in, so could a human intruder with less innocent intentions. I’m going back to the board and insisting they spring for a heavyweight security door. Better yet, I’ll spring for it, get it installed, and then send them the
invoice.”
“There’s no need for that,” Zoey says, reaching out to scratch Luke’s belly. “I’m safe here. Seriously, I’m more worried about coyotes than I am human bad guys.”
“Well, I’m worried about them, and I’m worried about you,” I say, refusing to let her blow this off. “This has gone on long enough. Until I can get a suitable door in place, this isn’t a safe situation for you or your clothing.” I pace the width of her tiny living room, deliberately keeping my gaze from the full bed on the far side of the studio apartment. “So, until it can be made safe, I think you should come stay with me.”
Zoey’s brows shoot up. “With you?”
“In my guest room,” I clarify. “It’s got a lock on the door, and the hall is too narrow for Luke to get a running start at it. He won’t be able to break in, you and your underthings will be safe until we get the security door installed here, and if we run into Kim and Bear, it will look like we’re living together—it’s a win, win, win situation.”
