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“Because it’s you,” I deadpan. “You’re my neighbor, who I kissed, who I like. You can’t be my boss.” My words sink in. “We joked about topics that are not office-appropriate.”
I lean closer. “You call me Pumpkin because of Pumpkin puss puss. You cannot be my boss, Julian.” I hold my head in my hands. My eyes find his carpet, which looks plush and soft. I want to sink into it, fall asleep, and wake up to discover this is all a crazy dream.
He snorts a laugh. “You’d be surprised by what is said around here, especially with Kent.” His smile fades as the reality of our situation overtakes it.
“So, what are we going to do about it?” He leans back in his chair, but he looks uncomfortable.
I bite my bottom lip. “I don’t know, Julian.” I sigh. He’s silent. That’s not good, is it?
I dare to look up again. “I can find a new job,” I offer. I can live off my trust fund until I find something new.
“No,” he replies quickly. “You shouldn’t punish yourself over this.” He grabs his injured shoulder and massages it. His jaw tenses with pain. “I don’t want to fuck this up. I have to succeed at my job, Poppy, and I don’t want rumors about us around the office. I don’t give a shit what they say about me, but it could ruin your career.”
I gulp. He’s right. My heart slows back to a normal beat, and I am no longer hopeful about the future with Julian.
“I understand. We’ll be friendly neighbors only.” I’m going to need to purchase a chastity belt to commit to that statement.
He stands abruptly, turning his back to me as he looks out the window. “Fuck. Fuck!” His back widens as he exhales. “I’ve never been a CEO, and I don’t want to be known as the boss who sleeps with his staff.”
I can respect that. I like that he thought about my reputation as well.
“I don’t want that either.” I shift closer to the edge of my chair.
He presses his left palm against the window. “But I can’t resist kissing you again, Pumpkin,” he whispers, keeping his back to me.
I lick my lips. There is one option; he must know it, too. “We could…”
He turns. “We could what?”
I bite my bottom lip. “Keep things professional here and neighborly at home.”
The furrow in his brow lessens like a kite, finally catching some wind so it can fly and be happy again.
“How neighborly?”
I glance down. “As neighborly as you are comfortable with,” I suggest.
Am I really offering this? Getting cozy with my boss!
I am because the thought of kissing him again thrills me. He’s the first man who has calmed the storm in my mind, allowing me a kiss without the usual panicking and the relentless bombardment of memories from my ex.
Maybe it’s selfish, but the thought of losing this newfound peace terrifies me.
“Poppy,” the way he says my name demands my attention. “What are you comfortable with?”
Yet again, he sees me and considers my feelings, wants and needs before his.
“I…I want to kiss you again,” I admit.
He grins, but it’s filled with worry.
“And I want to be good at my job. I want you to be good at your job. I’ve never done this, and I don’t know if we can separate work and personal life. Eventually, it will spill over, Julian. What then?”
What happens if I ruin this, and he wants just to be coworkers? I’ll still have to work with him every day. Or there’s the hopeful ending where we grow serious and want to come forward with our relationship. We both will be labeled with the titles he fears.
He returns to sitting in his chair again, eyes low, not looking at me.
“What are you thinking?” I ask.
