And just like that, his face went stone-cold. For a moment I was tongue-tied. And then I stepped forward. “That was beautiful.”
“You’re early today.” There was an accusing edge to his voice that made me feel unwelcome. Like we were back to square one.
“You gave me permission to come and go whenever I wanted,” I said almost defiantly, hoping he’d realize I did belong here and hadn’t intruded on purpose. “You said you didn’t need to keep track of my schedule.”
He frowned, staring down at his feet. “I did say that, didn’t I?”
“If you’d like, I can text you when I’m on my way next time.”
“No. Not necessary. Forget I said anything.” He seized the sheet music off the piano stand and closed it inside a book as if trying to hide what he’d been playing.
He lifted himself off the bench and then moved toward the stairs. I stumbled after him. “Wait. You don’t have to stop because I’m here. That song was breathtaking.” I held up my forearms. “It gave me goosebumps. You’re a gifted musician.”
He halted but kept his back to me. “Thanks, Ivy, but I’m done for the afternoon.”
“Do you want me to come up with you or do you need time alone?”
His head dropped forward a little, shoulders sagged. “I could use some time alone.” He marched up the stairs, taking two steps at a time, and then rounded the corner.
***
I gave him space after that. When I joined him an hour later upstairs, he was on the couch reading a book. I sat on the opposite couch and took out my phone, scrolling through YouTube videos. In the past hour, I hadn’t been able to get the melody of that piano song out of my mind.
“Hey, what was the name of the song you played earlier?” I asked. “I want to find it on YouTube.”
A startled expression crossed his face, and then something akin to horror flickered in his eyes. “I’d prefer not to say.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s none of your business.”
“Since when has the name of a song been a secret? Unless there’s something about the song you don’t want me to know?”
“Not everything is about you, Ivy. There are some things I’d like to keep private. You already invade my space every day. Can’t I keep a few things to myself?”
His words silenced me like a slap in the face.
“You’re right. You deserve your privacy.” I couldn’t look at him as I stood to my feet, trying to hide my hurt feelings. If he felt that way, he needed more space. “I think I’ll leave early today.” I gathered my purse and left the room, headed towards the stairwell.
He ran after me, boots pounding on the floor. “Ivy. Wait.” He took hold of my hand, stopping me in my tracks. “I didn’t mean for you to leave.” His voice was low, urgent. He blew out a harsh breath.
My gaze dropped to our joined fingers, and my heart began to pound. His hand was large, his grip strong, and I couldn’t help but notice my hand fit perfectly inside his. I turned to face him and our eyes locked. It felt right to hold his hand like this, and I saw it in his expression—he thought so, too.
He moved in closer until we were only inches apart and his warm breath brushed over my face. For a second, I thought he might kiss me, but then he stepped back, pulling his hand away like he was distressed. “I shouldn’t have said that earlier.”
My eyes searched his. Vibrant gold flecks stood out against the light brown of his irises. Stunning. His eyes were stunning. I held his gaze a few seconds longer than I meant to, and those caramel-colored eyes, framed by thick lashes, widened in awareness. Stepping back, I flushed. What was wrong with me? I was staring into my boss’s eyes like a love-sick puppy, and it couldn’t be more obvious.
The realization was mortifying. I’d completely lost my mind. My face felt hot, and I wanted to get out of there before I embarrassed myself further. I glanced over my shoulder at the stairwell, needing an escape.
“Stay,” he said again, gaze locked on me, intense, pleading, but it was more of a command than a request.
My breath caught in my throat, and I was immobilized. Something had shifted between us. Was it all in my head or did he feel it too?
It was like his music and his touch lulled me into some kind of ridiculous stupor. I glanced up at him again, adrenaline rushing through my veins.
I was being silly and imagining things that weren’t there. He knew it and probably felt sorry for me. That was the only reason he demanded I not leave. “I’m sorry, but I really have to go.”
“Please . . . I shouldn’t have bitten your head off. That song,” he looked away for a second, “it’s not something I want to talk about. I meant no disrespect. Will you forgive me?”
“Of course, Sawyer. It has to be hard with me underfoot all the time, especially since you’re used to having more privacy.”
He pressed his lips into a thin line. “That’s true.” He ran his hand along the back of his head, eyes finding mine again. “But sometimes . . . sometimes I kind of like having you around.”
“Just sometimes?” A slow smile spread across my face.
He grinned. “Yeah, just every once in a while.” The snark in his voice broke the tension.
I laughed. “Well, that’s a relief. I was beginning to think I should take a vacation.”
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s start over. Relax. Watch a movie.”
I shrugged. “Sure. We can do that.”
I followed him back, and he found the Blu-ray for the latest Star Trek movie. “You good with this?” he asked. “Or would you rather watch something else?”
“I’m always up for Sci-Fi.”
He put the disk into the Blu-ray player and sank onto one couch, while I took the other. I stretched out and tried to get comfortable, hoping the distraction of the movie would calm my nerves.
We were twenty minutes in when I felt his eyes on me. I tilted my head to look at him, but he turned away before we made eye contact. A few minutes later he did it again, only that time I caught his eye and held his gaze. Instead of looking away, he grinned.
My stomach did a little flip. He was handsome even when he scowled, but when he smiled—the whole room lit up. I smiled back, and brought my attention back to the movie, unable to hold his gaze one second longer without my heart racing.
I thought about telling Sammie I didn't want to develop feelings for my boss. Despite my earlier protestations, I was falling for him.
When the movie ended and the credits rolled, I lifted my arms in the air to stretch. My phone dinged, and I bent down to pull it out of my purse and check my messages. Ever since the day I’d missed Sawyer’s text, I’d been hypervigilant about not overlooking personal contacts.
Sammie: Get ready, girlie. I’ve got a blind date set up for tomorrow evening.
“No!” I gasped and my hand flew over my mouth.
Sawyer seemed concerned. “Who is it? Austin?”
“No. My best friend, Sammie. We made this deal and it’s time for me to pay-up.”
He frowned. “You owe her money?”
“Not exactly.”
“Care to elaborate?”
I shifted in my seat and ran a hand over the surface of the couch. “Not really.”
He grinned. “Now I’m curious.”
If he smiled like that all the time I’d be in big trouble. The man was a charmer and didn’t even know it. Or maybe he did.
“It’s not that interesting. Trust me.”
“Oh, something tells me it is.”
Hesitating, I looked away, not sure I should go into it. I didn’t want him to get the idea that I was interested in other guys. On the other hand, I shouldn’t even be thinking that way, considering the nature of our work relationship. We could never be a thing—not that he even wanted that. I’m sure he didn’t. That I hesitated to tell him about dates with other men meant I secretly hoped there might be a chance for us.
And that had to stop. Now.
“
Fine. I’ll tell you. The apartment Sammie and I share has a bedroom with a balcony overlooking a river. The other faces a parking lot.”
He nodded. “Okay.”
“Sammie made this deal. I can have the river view if I go on three blind dates of her choice. I'm supposed to meet the first guy tomorrow.”
Something unreadable flashed across his face. “Are you going?”
“No, I’m working tomorrow. I’ll tell her to reschedule.”
He winced and turned away, fiddling with lint on his shirt.
I hadn’t expected that reaction. Did he actually care I might go on a date?
A beat passed, and I pressed my fingertips against my temples. How could I be so stupid? During the movie, there’d been an easiness between us, almost as if we were two friends hanging out. Like an idiot, I’d reminded him I was only there because it was a job. He was work.
The crushed look in his eyes verified my fear. Spending time with him was my job, but I liked him, even despite his surly manner. I couldn’t deny my attraction to Sawyer, but more than that, he’d been showing me glimpses of another side, one he rarely showed to anyone. I truly wanted to get to know him better—to be a real friend.
My heart ached at my blunder, but I wasn’t sure how to fix it.
“You should go on the date,” he said matter-of-factly.
“No, it’s not important. I’ll tell Sammie to schedule it later.”
“Ivy, take the night off.” His voice was insistent, almost stern.
“No, really,” I said with equal firmness. “I can reschedule.”
“Far be it from me to hold you back. Your friend took the time to set you up with someone she thinks you’ll like. You shouldn’t renege.”
“It’s not like I want to go, anyway.”
He scowled. “Then why did you agree to those terms?”
“Because I wanted the room with the view. The beauty of that river was too much to pass up.”
He laughed sardonically. “You couldn’t just hang up a scenic poster and be done with it? It would have saved you a lot of trouble.”
“Right. Because a poster is like the real thing.”
He stood and put the Blu-ray in its jacket. “Kind of like relationships. The fake ones make you wish for something genuine.”
I shrunk back, a hollow feeling taking root in my gut. Whatever had grown between us—that fragile seed of a bond—it had been so delicate, even breakable, and now I’d squashed it with my words.
“Sawyer, I may work for you, but that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy hanging out. And I want us to be friends. I hope you believe that.”
A muscle flexed in his jaw, and he appeared almost angry. “We both knew from the beginning what this agreement entailed. You don’t need to explain anything. I get it.”
“But I feel like I do. We were both so at ease a few minutes ago and now . . .”
His eyes narrowed. “Nothing’s changed. We exchanged a few smiles while watching a movie. Big deal. Let’s not forget this is a temporary situation, and at the end of the day, you’re going home with a paycheck. Once this arrangement is over, there won’t be a reason to spend time together.”
His words hurt more than I cared to admit. It wasn’t as if I’d thought he was actually interested in me. Okay, so the way he’d looked at me may have sparked a little excitement on my end. Not smart—I knew that. But he’d made his position clear: he only tolerated me because of an “arrangement.”
Tears threatened to spill, but I refused to let him see me cry. I turned my back to him and picked up my purse, swallowing the lump in my throat. “You’re right. I won’t forget next time.”
And then I was out the door before either of us said another word and made a bad situation worse. It wasn’t until I drove home that I let the tears fall. I gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles were white. Why did I let that happen? Hadn’t I learned to guard my heart better after Austin? But no, I had to let honey brown eyes and a striking smile get to me. Was I so starved for attention that a few glances from a guy who didn’t even like me made my pulse beat faster?
When I pulled up to my parking space at the apartment complex, I closed my eyes. Lord, please fix this. I’m all out of answers.
Chapter 17
Sawyer
I should’ve stopped her, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it that time.
I leaned down and picked up a slip of paper off the floor, examining the paper more closely. In her haste to leave, she must have dropped it. I knew what it was. Another letter. She’d probably forgotten to give it to me. Or maybe she was mad and changed her mind. I folded the note in half, debating whether I should read it. I really wanted to read that letter.
Actually, want didn’t accurately describe the emotion—need was more like it. A need so great it nearly consumed me.
And that was exactly why I should get rid of it. Nothing should affect me that much—not even a letter. I hadn’t read the contents yet, but my heart pounded as if it was some kind of love note. I looked forward to her encouraging words, and that had to end. Something as minor as this would tear me apart if I let it.
I headed to the kitchen and leaned against the island countertop, eyeing the trash can a few feet away. A glass of water stood a few inches from my hand. I grabbed it, finished the last few sips, and smacked it down on the counter.
Maybe I was making too much out of this. It shouldn’t be a big deal if I read it. The letter meant nothing. Ivy meant nothing to me.
That I was lying to make myself feel better made my jaw tighten.
My pulse pounded at my temples. If I threw it away, I would be rid of these unrelenting thoughts. My chest tightened. I could go back to ignoring her again. Have her on one side of the room while I sat on the other. But God didn’t want me to treat her that way.
Ugh! I put my head in my hands and squeezed my eyes closed in frustration. I couldn’t take this anymore. My throat dry, I reached for the glass of water on the counter and accidentally knocked it to the tiled floor.
Glass shattered everywhere, but my focus was on the letter in my hand. In two steps I reached the trash can and before agonizing any further, ripped the note into tiny pieces and threw them away.
My stomach jerked as if I'd swallowed something toxic, but I ignored the sensation and pulled out a broom and dustpan from the closet. I swept up the glass and discarded the shards, and then crashed out the door, heading for the woods behind the house. The cool and damp air soothed my heated skin. Running under a night sky wasn’t smart, but I’d jogged that way so many times I knew the area like the back of my hand.
I wouldn’t allow myself to think. Or remember the conversation from earlier. I would run until I was numb and no longer felt anything.
Leaves crunched underneath my feet, the hallow trill of a bird echoed somewhere overhead, and the wind whipped through my hair and around my throat. I picked up speed and hauled like a Mack truck, sprinting like my life depended on it. Miles later, I breathed as if I’d run a marathon. I’d spent all my energy so I wouldn’t have anything left.
The walk back home was lonely, and the dark night pressed in against me like a blanket, heavy and suffocating. As I reached the edge of the woods, I saw my property in the distance, the porch swing swaying back and forth from the wind. A still, quiet voice reminded me I wasn’t alone. I clung to my faith in Christ, knowing He was all I had left.
I walked around the house and my gaze landed on the basketball hoop above the back garage. The urge to shoot a few hoops almost overpowered me.
But I averted my eyes and kept going.
Later in the evening, I read through the Psalms, finding both comfort and conviction. If only I could take back some of the things I’d said to Ivy.
When I’d found out she was going on a date, I’d panicked. It was stupid, really. She didn’t belong to me. The real problem was I’d allowed myself to forget she was an employee. Allowed myself to forget I pay her to spend time with me, and that’s
all it would ever be.
But there was this moment when she’d looked at me and I could have sworn it meant something. Right before she tried to leave, I’d taken her hand—it had been pure instinct. She’d made me smile, and for a few minutes, I was able to forget all my problems.
But who was I kidding? I was like a thorn bush: painfully ugly and irreconcilably prickly. I only hurt those I love, and I didn’t want to hurt Ivy.
My fingers glided over the mangled flesh along the side of my hairline, and I remembered that fateful night. The fire ravaged my skin like melting wax, and I’d yelled so loud my vocal cords strained like they would snap.
What would my life be like if the flames hadn’t claimed my skin? If it hadn’t left me mutilated and ugly? Maybe things would be different. Maybe not. But one thing was for sure, I needed to keep my head on straight because if I didn’t, I would fall hard for that girl.
That night, my sleep was restless as I tossed and turned, unable to shut my mind off. Visions of Ivy’s face kept flashing before me. I got out of bed and flipped on my sound system, played music so loud the room vibrated with each boom of the base guitar. Anything to block her out. Anything not to feel.
It didn’t work. All my efforts, an utter failure.
Pacing restlessly, my thoughts hounded me like rabid dogs, hot on my trail. What if I recovered the letter—read it just this once and then told her to stop writing? I was backtracking like a fool, but I didn’t care because I had to know what she’d said.
I strode down the stairwell, shutting out the part of my brain that screamed, don’t do it. The decision was made.
Seconds later, I opened the lid of the trash can and stared at the tiny pieces of paper wrapped around broken glass, leftover oatmeal I’d thrown away earlier in the day, and something that smelled like rotten chicken.
With focused precision, I dug a piece of paper out, holding my breath at the rancid stench. Doing it that way would take hours. But then I’d have to put up with the stink.
I braced myself and pushed my fingers through the garbage, wincing as the sharp glass ripped against my flesh.
The Unwanted Assistant Page 13
