Page 7 of Working for Him

He straightens, turning to face me fully, and I have to tilt my head back to hold his gaze. "You don't back down," he says.

"I'm not paid to." I look at him defiantly. I do not back down.

"You're crowding me," I say, a little breathlessly

"Am I?" It’s not a question, more like a challenge.

I step closer instead of retreating, my shoulder brushing his chest, and I hear his breath catch. Got you, I think, with satisfaction.

"That picture's already gone," he says quietly, something raw in his voice. "You made sure of that the second you walked into Marlene's and didn't flinch."

For a second I think he might lean in. I think I might let him.

A knock sounds on the door. "Boss? We need you out here."

Caleb closes his eyes briefly before he steps back, and the sudden space between us feels colder than it should.

"Send me your notes," he says, his voice deliberately professional now.

When he steps aside to let me pass, his hand brushes my lower back, just for a second, but it feels like he’s branded me.

By late afternoon, I've documented seventeen minor issues and successfully avoided being alone with Caleb for six hours, which is making me twitchy. Not the work, the work is fine. It's the awareness that's killing me, the constant consciousness of where he is on the site.

I'm packing up my equipment when I hear boots on gravel behind me.

"Heading out?" Caleb asks. He’s three feet away, with concrete dust on his forearms where he's rolled his sleeves up.

"Yeah, I got what I needed. Are we having two conversations right now?" I ask, narrowing my eyes at the note in his voice.

"Depends on whether you want to acknowledge what happened in the trailer."

"Nothing happened in the trailer."

"No," he agrees, holding my gaze. "It didn't. But it almost did, and we both know it."

I wasn't prepared for him to just put it out there. "That was a proximity thing. Tight spaces, high stress."

"You done lying to yourself, or should I give you a minute?"

"Excuse me?"

"I felt it too," he says, low enough that only I can hear him. "That was attraction, and it's been there since the diner."

"Even if that's true, it doesn't change anything. Getting involved with the site supervisor is exactly the kind of complication I can't afford."

"I know, believe me, I know. But ignoring it isn't making it go away, Rena."

Hearing my name in that voice cracks something in my resolve. "So what are you suggesting? That we acknowledge it and pretend it doesn't exist? Because that's not how chemistry works."

"I don't have a good answer," he finally says. "I just know I don't want to pretend I don't notice you. And I don't want you to pretend you don't notice me."

"This is a terrible idea," I say softly.

"Probably. I'm done fighting it for today. Tomorrow we'll be professional. But today, I'm going to admit I spent half the day thinking about what would've happened if no one knocked on that door. And you're going to decide if you want to pretend you weren't thinking the same thing."

"I'm not asking for anything," he says. "I'm just being honest. The rest is up to you."

He turns and walks to his truck, and I watch him drive away knowing with complete certainty that tomorrow's going to be impossible.