Page 48 of Big Girl Panties

An alarm squealed, sharp, insistent, shattering the moment like glass.

We both startled, the intimate bubble around us bursting. Reality rushed in: the café opening, customers waiting.

"Shit," I muttered, clutching my chest, pulse racing for entirely different reasons now. The warm afterglow of pleasure collided with the cold panic of responsibility.

"Sorry," he said, water still cascading down his body as he offered me a hand. I hesitated, knowing that once I took it, once I rose to my feet, this stolen moment would truly end. His fingers remained extended, waiting. Finally, I placed my palm against his, allowing him to pull me up.

The shower continued running, counting down seconds we no longer had.

"That's my alarm warning me it's almost time to go." He stepped into me, pressing our naked bodies together one last time, a final defiance against the demands of the day: water and skin and the ticking clock.

"Go?" The question emerged smaller than I'd intended, more vulnerable.

"I have a meeting with my team this morning." The regret in his voice seemed genuine as he tucked a loose strand of wet hair behind my ear, his touch lingering a moment longer than necessary. "But I really don't want to go."

The shower water began to cool, another countdown, another reminder. Five minutes of hot water left, maybe less.

"I'd much rather put on a pink apron and bake chocolate chip cookies all day." His attempt at lightness didn't quite mask the reluctance in his eyes.

I laughed, the sound echoing off the bathroom tiles, helping us both transition back to reality. "As fun as that was, I think you should stick to your day job."

The shower water ran cold. Time's up.

He laughed. "Okay," he pushed open the glass door and stepped out, and I was struggling to focus on anything but how his muscles flexed with every move he made as he wrapped a fluffy white towel around his waist. "So how about I drop you off at the café on my way to my meeting, and I will meet you there a little later."

I wrapped my towel around me. "That sounds good."

Chapter 18

Unbreakable Contracts

I bounced in the chair like a golden retriever who'd just discovered tennis balls, causing the leather to protest with a squeak that sounded suspiciously like a rubber duck. My fingers drummed a rhythm on the armrest. The wall clock seemed to be moving in slow motion.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Each second felt like an eternity, and not the good kind.

Usually, I didn't mind these meetings. Today I had somewhere infinitely better to be. Like, say, literally anywhere Brooke existed.

"Let's make this quick." I tried to sound all mysterious and James Bond-ish, but probably came across more like a guy who really needed to use the bathroom. I met Angela's eyes across the polished desk that was so shiny I could see my reflection making desperate "get me out of here" faces.

Angela sat there looking like she'd stepped out of a magazine titled "Publicists Who Have Their Lives Together Monthly." Blonde hair that had probably never experienced a bad hair day, suit so crisp it could cut glass, and the kind of composure that said she ate chaos for breakfast and asked for seconds.

"I have places to be," I added, which was technically true if you counted "wherever Brooke is" as a place.

The café flashed in my mind, Brooke's smile, the way she laughed at my terrible jokes, her hands that somehow made everything feel like it was going to be okay. That's where I wanted to be. Not here, trapped in this office that smelled like expensive leather and broken dreams, planning a future that looked suspiciously Brooke-less.

Lance raised an eyebrow so high it practically achieved flight. "You have somewhere to be?" He said it like I'd just announced I was taking up professional yodeling. And honestly, fair point. These two basically ran my life with the efficiency of a Swiss watch factory. They told me where to be, when to be there, what to wear, and probably what to eat for breakfast if I let them. I'd always been okay with that. It was like having really controlling parents, except they paid me.

But now? Now I had a reason to want control of my own calendar.

I glanced at Lance, who was sitting there looking like a male model for 'Managers Who Are About to Have an Aneurysm Weekly.'

"I have plans." I tried to sound casual and definitely not like someone whose brain had turned to romantic mush.

"Then we'll make this quick." Angela shifted into full efficiency mode. "You have two auditions coming up, one for the commercial we discussed, and another for a movie. They're both in California, and since they're within a few days of each other, I'll book your flight and hotel today and send you the details."

I nodded. "Great."