Page 35 of Denial
“I’ll wait.”
Ignoring the burn in my chest, I roll my eyes. “You’ll be waiting a while. How’s Nellie?”
“She’s looking forward to seeing you tomorrow.” A pause. “She will be seeing you tomorrow?”
“Yes, Sutton. I’ll be good as new by morning.”
Most likely.But I don’t tell him that. The man is nervous enough.
“Good. She won’t stop yapping about you. You’ve become the coolest thing next to those little gems she sticks every-fucking-where.”
My hands pause over my insulin. “She has a bedazzler?”
“Shouldn’t have told you that.”
“Oh, we’re going to havesomuch fun!”
“I regret opening my mouth.”
I laugh softly. “Don’t worry, Sutton. You’re already at your sparkle quota for the month.”
He grunts. “Shut up.”
A rustle comes across the line, filling my quiet kitchen with the sound of bed sheets. My eyes nearly bug out of my head as I stare at the black screen.
Sutton’s lying in bed.
Of course, he is, you big dumb idiot! It’s nearly one in the morning!
I don’t know what’s worse. Sitting in the place he sleeps night after night while Nellie reads to me, or picturing him lying there while talking with me on the phone.
He’s probably shirtless.Oh god.Maybe even nude. In my head, his sheets are stark white, clashing with the soft tan over his rippled abs.
I cannot be picturing my boss in his bed. That’s like, unethical. At the very least, it’s impolite.
“Ms. Thompson? Are you okay?”
“Hmm?” I snap back to the present.
“I asked if you’re all right?” he bites out, sounding very much like a grizzly bear after a deep hibernation.
I clear my throat. “Yep! Sorry, I’m just focused. Almost done here.”
I prep a new site on my abdomen with an alcohol pad and attach the device.
“Better?” he asks, and I get the sense he’s ready to drop this call.
“I will be. If not, I can always go for a late-night jog,” I joke.
Movement on the other side of the phone evokes images of Sutton sitting, standing, or racing to throw clothes on.
“I’m coming over there.”
“Whoa, calm down. I’m only half serious.”
The sound of his sigh sends the hair on my neck on end.
“That’s what I’m afraid of. You’re just crazy enough to do it.”
