Page 75 of Not Safe for Work
“Right,” Rafe says, rolling his shoulders.
“Help yourself,” I say, gesturing towards the room.
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I need to cool off a little.”
I’m still burning up, partly from the exercise but more because I’ve worked myself into a tizzy. Rafe is standing inches away, still not wearing his shirt, and I need him to get dressed immediately.
“Please, go put something on.” I make a face of disgust no one would ever buy.
That earns me another wicked grin before he disappears into the bathroom. And yep, that’s definitely my favorite smile.
A short while later, I emerge from the bathroom clad in sweats and a tank top, my wet hair loose around my shoulders.
Rafe sits on the balcony, looking at his phone.
“I was going to order dinner—you want something?” he asks, looking up.
“Of course I want something,” I say, picking up the menu card from the table. “Scallops Alfredo.” I flip the card over. “And the chocolate lava cake.” Rafe nods and calls down to room service with our orders.
“Can I get you something to drink?” I point towards the kitchen.
He arches a skeptical eyebrow. “You’re going to serve me?”
I’m about to smother him with a pillow, but he’s laughing, and I plant my hands on my hips. “Don’t get used to it.”
“I would never.” He raises his hands in mock surrender. “I’d love some sparkling water. Thanks.”
I nod and disappear inside. Our food arrives shortly after, and we settle on the balcony in our designated lounge chairs, with the small metal table between us. There are a dozen other places we could dine in the suite. Somewhere we could eat without our knees brushing together, but I think that maybe we both know that.
I’m so weirdly grateful we’ve moved past the kiss and are speaking normally again. Maybe we’ll pretend it never even happened. But despite all my reservations about getting closer to anyone, I already know that isn’t what I want. No one has ever kissed me like that. How can I let that go?
I can’t.
When his knee touches mine, there is more electricity in that tiny brush of nothing than a whole entire kiss with Andy. I can’t ignore it. I can’t pretend. And I need to reconcile that with myself. I also need to know what’s going on in his head.
Apparently, I’m not the only one having thoughts, because as soon as I open my mouth to say something, Rafe beats me to it.
“I want to apologize again for the other day,” he says. “I shouldn’t have behaved like that at the pool with Andy. Of course, it’s entirely up to you who you talk to, and it’s none of my business. I’m sorry I went all caveman on you. He’s just such a dick.”
He picks up a napkin and wipes his mouth. “I was in Cleveland for a meeting where I first met him a few months ago. A group of us went for drinks, and the things he was saying about the women in his office… Well, he’s just not a good guy.” He raises a hand. “But that’s all to say I had no right to do any of that.”
I sigh because none of that really surprises me. “Do I want to know what he said?”
Rafe presses his mouth into a straight line. “There was a ranking system.”
“Ew,” I reply, mentally banishing Andy to the graveyard where potential hookups go to die. Then, I shovel an extra thick layer of dirt over his plot. “That’s why you had that weird tension between you on our first night.”
“I might have told him that he was a shithead, and he didn’t take too kindly to that.”
I huff out an incredulous laugh. “No, I don’t imagine he did.” I study his face briefly and then ask, “You said your dad was giving you a hard time that day?”
He nods with a grim press of his mouth as he runs a hand through his hair and looks out towards the water. “The training program. He thinks it’s imperative for my future and is convinced it’ll motivate me.”
“Motivate you into what?”
He clasps his hands and looks down at them before he meets my gaze. “Wanting his life. As his only kid, he wants me to follow in his footsteps. WMC has been his entire identity for his adult life, and he can’t see any other future for me.”
