Page 34 of True Colors

“Wow! Didn’t expect to see her with a guy like that.”

“What do you mean?”

Erin scoffed. “Come on, aren’t you surprised that Miss Wallflower has a hot boyfriend?”

“She’s not a wallflower,” I muttered and then changed the topic, but I couldn’t do so to my mood, which remained sour.

They own a mortgage together, which in this day and age is a whole lot more legally binding than a marriage.

It shouldn’t matter. Right?

But it does.

And I hate that it does.

“Anouk,” I greet when she steps into my office for our scheduled one-on-one.

She’s in a navy-blue midi skirt that fits her well, molds to her pert ass, and a cream silk dress shirt. Her shoes are sensible, beige-colored ones.

She’s wearing another scarf today—navy and cream. It’s styled and angled perfectly.

She has small, delicate feet. I’m seeing more and more of them as spring is coming in stronger. She wore peep-toe shoes the other day. Her toenails are painted pink.

Her fingernails are bare, so it’s incongruous and sexy that her toes aren’t.

You could put her on a street in Paris, and she’d fit in just fine—her slender body and graceful movements.

“G-good morning,” she whispers.

There we go!

She stutters more around me than she does with others, which tells me that I’m the fucking ogre in her story, making her nervous.

If Vijay were here, she would give him a sunny smile and not stumble over a single word.

He’s commented on how her stutter is almost non-existent when she’s talking one-on-one. It’s in large groups and settings that she struggles. And, apparently, with me.

I nod and gesture for her to sit. “We need to talk about your presentation skills.”

Her shoulders stiffen instantly.

Damn it! That wasn’t how I meant to start this conversation. I was going to say she’s been doing good work and all that….

“O-okay.”

Fuck! Now I’ve made her even more nervous.

Luther, you need to get your head out of your ass and be nice. It’s not her fault you’re attracted to her.

I fold my hands on the desk like every leadership coach I’ve ever had. “Your analysis is strong. Exceptional, actually. But your delivery is holding you back.”

Her expression literally folds into itself. “I kn-know.”

She’s hurting, I know that, but I also know that this needs to be done, so I keep at it.

“You need to work on your confidence in group situations.” I look at her mouth instead of her eyes. She’s not wearing lipstick, but her lips are pink and bruised because she chews on them. They’re glistening with some lip gloss she probably put on. I can imagine them wrapped around….

Snap out of it, Luther.