“Fine. I was thinking I really miss a good coffee shop. A vanilla scone would hit the spot about now.” She finger combed her ponytail over one shoulder. “And I was thinking that my list of things to do is getting smaller at the winery, but that I still can’t find a company to help with the harvest.” She tossed the ponytail onto her back. “Then I thought about how your house seems different since you opened up the windows, and how the twins are slowly opening up and letting you in, even if you don’t see it.”
She sucked in a breath. “Oh, and then I couldn’t help but think about how it would be really cool to date you if you weren’t my boss. Then I could give you a hug whenever I thought you needed it. And make you smile when you took yourself too seriously.” That might have been an over-share. She tried for a quick recovery. “But mostly...I was thinking about that vanilla scone.”
* * *
SLADE WANTED TO kiss Christine again.
If he turned toward her and drew her down, he could kiss her. Maybe in her kiss he’d lose himself, as he had last night. She didn’t look to be his type in her raggedy pink T-shirt and sweatpants cut off at the knees. She didn’t act like his type in the way she butted gently into everyone’s business, as if she knew how to listen, if not how to remedy.
But she felt like his type. His antidote. The person who’d make it seem as if his past wasn’t made up of one huge mistake. He knew it from the way she’d touched his scar—so gentle. From the way she’d stared deep into his eyes, and instead of trying to dredge up all his secrets, she’d tried to test what kind of man he was today. With a litmus test. A kiss.
He’d hoped that kiss would scare her, had half hoped she’d turn in her resignation. It would be easier than being her boss, her coworker, her friend. But a woman like Christine—who saw past scars—deserved her wishes respected. Because she’d drawn the same conclusion he had from that test. There was something beneath the surface between them, below appearances, below ties and ratty T-shirts, below roles of boss and employee. It was something that could heal and understand and forgive, something he wasn’t going to name, because no matter how much he’d believed he’d never find it, it would forever be out of reach.
Christine wants to be friends.
His friends had never seen his scar. He’d thought if they saw it they’d lose respect for him. What with budgets constantly being revised and the winery costing more than they’d ever planned on spending, respect seemed a precious commodity.
Christine sipped her coffee, waiting for him to say something.
He wasn’t going to turn toward her. He wouldn’t turn toward her.
He turned toward her and rested his arm on her knee, surprising even himself with an invasion of her personal space. “You honestly think I’m making progress with the twins?”
Other than the initial jolt when his body touched hers, she played along. “Oh, totally. They want to please you. They must have said a handful of words to you last night while I was there.”
“Twenty-five.”
Her eyes sparkled. “Twenty-five is better than five.”
“But who’s counting?” He was. Counting was what he did. He counted money and opportunities. He’d tally this moment under the missed-opportunities column.
“So what is my millionaire boss doing today?”
It didn’t escape him how she subtly put a stake in the ground. He was invading her space and she felt threatened enough to remind him of the boundaries of their relationship, although with Christine, there were no boundaries. Such a cute little hypocrite.