Page 100 of Seale the Deal

Ding!

The elevator chimes, the sound slicing through the moment like a cup of ice water to the face. We spring apart, both breathing harder than we should be, and I stare at the elevator doors as they slide open, trying to remember how to think with my brain and not other, lower regions of my body.

Ruger straightens his coat like that will somehow make any of this normal before he steps into the hallway, holding his arm out to keep the door from closing until I follow. We fall into step together, that same too-loud silence from the drive back creeping up again.

We stop outside my room, but I don’t reach for my door. The hallway is quiet, the patterned carpet stretching in both directions, and for a second, it feels like we’re standing in the strange space between what happened in that elevator and whatever comes next.

Thank you for today, I say softly. I really liked it.

His gaze holds mine. Me too.

All of it. The words come out before I can overthink them. I need him to know that I don’t regret any of it. That if given the chance, I’d kiss him again.

His mouth lifts into a small smile. Me too.

Relief unfurls inside me, warm and fluttering.

He leans forward and plants a soft kiss on my cheek. It’s completely different from the desperate intensity of the one we’d shared a few minutes ago. And that almost makes it worse because there’s something unbearably tender about it. Something that settles deeper than desire ever could.

Good night, he whispers.

My heart squeezes. Good night.

I watch him walk away before finally slipping into my room, pressing the door shut behind me.

Inside, Remi is typing furiously at her computer. As I watch her, my mind starts rotating through two thoughts.

I kissed your brother and—

I can’t tell you I kissed your brother.

I hover near the door, my mouth open as I try to think what to say. Telling Remi would turn the kiss from toe-curling fun into questions I don’t have answers to. I have no clue what that kiss meant. For all I know, it was nothing more than weeks of pretending finally bleeding into something Ruger never intended, and I’m reading way too much into it. I can’t give Remi a version of the story when Ruger and I haven’t talked about it because there is no denying that it has the power to change the trajectory of this whole arrangement—a change I’m not sure I’m ready to think about.

Remi’s eyes flick up to meet mine when I open the door, and she smiles.

Still writing? I whisper.

She shrugs. Yeah. Well, kind of. You’re not interrupting anything. How was the day?

Good. I peel off my jacket. I met Peter.

Remi raises an eyebrow. He’s still alive?

And flying helicopters.

She lets out a laugh. That man was ancient when I was a kid. Of course, he did graduate with my dad, but I always thought he was ancient too.

I chuckle.

Did you see his reindeer?

Yeah. They’re adorable.

Well, I’m glad you had a good day, she says, stretching.

Me too. Your writing go well?

Finally caught up. Oh! Her whole face lights up. I got a really cool call today I have to tell you about. How about I go downstairs, grab us two glasses of wine, and then I’ll come back up, and we can gossip about our days?