Falling for Your Boss by Emma St. Clair

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Gavin

I’m broodinglike I’m a teenage boy after he’s been dumped. Which is exactly how I feel, so my reaction seems appropriate.

It’s been exactly six hours and seventeen minutes since Zoey hopped on a plane with my good buddy—sarcasm intended—and deserted me. I should be sleeping. Instead, I’m sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of decaf and listening to my mother fret around the kitchen, cleaning up while pretending she’s not trying to cheer me up.

I reread Zoey’s text again, the words cutting me the same way every time. She left. And she quit on me two ways, as Ella’s nanny (which was never my idea anyway) and at Morgan-Beckwith. Even though that shouldn’t matter to me, even though I had planned to sell Morgan-Beckwith soon, it felt like a betrayal. Why didn’t she tell me first? Or even tell me yesterday or this morning? I feel weary from the thoughts stamping around my mind.

“She’ll come around,” Mama says, patting me on the shoulder.

“Maybe I don’t want her to.” I cross my arms over my chest. Now I’m a petulant child, younger than a moody teenager.

Mama clucks her tongue, brushing a wayward curl back from her face. “Now, don’t let your pride start taking charge. Let me ask you this: did you tell Zoey how you felt?”

I told her a lot of things I hadn’t even meant to in the barn, revealing more of my feelings than I meant to. But I didn’t ask her for a commitment. We didn’t talk about a future, or even what we are in this present moment. I could blame it on the fact that things were so unusual, what with my sickness and Ella.

“It’s only been a few days. I can hardly tell the woman I’m in love with her.”

“Sure you can,” Mama says. “You just open your big mouth and say it. ‘I love you, Zoey.’ See? Not hard.”

I shake my head. “Everything happened too fast.”

“Sounds to me like it’s been building for years and only just now blossomed. Nothing wrong with that. All of our timelines are different.”

“Easy for you to say. You and Daddy dated through college before getting married.”

Mom leans her elbows on the counter, a damp rag in her hand from where she’s been wiping the same spot for the last ten minutes. “That’s our story. Slow and sweet. You know that Patty and her husband got married after knowing each other only a week.”

“A week?!”

“Mm-hm. Lasted fifty years together, all the way up until he died. Loved each other and probably fought too, just like your daddy and I did. Maybe your story is unconventional in a few ways.”

I snort. “More than a few.”

Mama tosses the damp rag at my head, and I barely manage to catch it.

“Are you going to let that stop you? Ages and timing and all that? Where’s my stubborn boy who wouldn’t let go of what he loves?”

“She let go of me,” I point out.

Mama only rolls her eyes. “Don’t blame the girl for being scared. But I can tell you that more often than not, a woman running like that, running scared, needs to know you’d chase her down.”

“I’m not chasing her.”

“Suit yourself.” She turns her back, rinsing dishes that I think I just saw her dry moments before. I can see her irritation in the way her curls are bouncing with the force of her movements.

Maybe she’s right. Mama often is, even when she’s not. I learned that lesson in childhood. But in this, I do think she’s right.

Zoey was thrown into this with me, first when I got sick and texted her after ruining our date. Then, when Ella showed up, and I pressured Zoey into coming with me to meet my parents. I see now that Zoey asking to have a contract in place probably offered her some protection, a feeling of safety. We went from boss and employee to something like an instant family, complete with child and meeting the parents.

It didn’t help that Thayden spoke out of turn, bringing up things I would have talked with Zoey about myself and certainly didn’t want to at that moment. I might have run too. I didn’t even notice Zoey was gone for a good hour.

When Ella called me Daddy, the moment eclipsed everything. She hasn’t done it again since, and when Ella realized Zoey left, she closed up tighter than a clam for the rest of the night.

At least until Mama said she could let the baby goat sleep with her. I still can’t believe Mama let a goat sleep in the house.

“Is Ella asleep?”

Mama nods, then bends to kiss the top of my head. “I’ll check on her before I go to sleep. And the goat.” She sighs, like she still can’t believe she’s letting the thing sleep inside either.

“It’s going to poop everywhere.”

“And my son is going to be kind enough to clean up its mess tomorrow,” she says. “We’ll leave our door open. If Ella wakes up, we’ll know.” She hesitates, standing by my chair for a moment. “We’ll keep an eye on her if you want to drive back to Zoey. It’s only a few hours there, a few back.”

Part of me is tempted. But when I think of the sleeping girl upstairs, I know that I can’t leave her too. “We’ll talk tomorrow,” I say. “I can leave early in the morning to drive back.”

“If you say so.”

I’m not sure it’s the right decision. Part of me wants to tear out of here, sending the gravel flying under my truck’s tires. But I really don’t feel I can leave Ella and be the third person this week to walk out on her. Tomorrow. I can wait. Even if I feel sick, and know I won’t sleep well, wishing I’d gone tonight.

The stairs creak as Mama makes the climb. Sighing, I lean back in my chair and run my hands over my face. Mama and Daddy are getting older, too old to keep running this place. If my brothers refuse to take it over, I know I would rather move here than see it sold off. Would Zoey even want that? One more thing we should have talked about. But if she doesn’t and my brothers don’t, I’d let it go. For her.

Realizing this only makes my regret deepen.

I should have moved quicker. Months ago. A year ago.

Maybe if I had kissed her sooner. Maybe if I’d told her that she made me rethink my stance on marriage.

Maybe I should go to bed.

Tonight, I could sleep in my old bed upstairs. It’s empty and familiar, certainly more comfortable than the couch downstairs. But I know it would smell like Zoey, so I stretch out on the couch, squeeze my eyes closed, hoping I’m not making a huge mistake not chasing her down tonight.

* * *

I’m awokenby a sharp jab to my ribs.

When my eyes fly open, it takes a moment to make sense of my parents standing over me, grinning like terrifying versions of the Joker, all the manic but without the makeup and the menace.

“You have to see this,” Mama whisper shouts.

It’s the gray light of almost dawn. I remember this color streaming through the windows from so many days waking up to do chores, watching the way color bleeds out over the sky to announce the arrival of the sun as I filled troughs and feed buckets.

I yawn. “Are you going to make me feed the pigs?”

Daddy rolls his eyes with such force that I swear I almost hear it. “Get up, son.”

I stand, too tired to argue with them, even if I don’t understand why they’re behaving like lunatics. “Is this about the goat? Is there goat poop all over the house?”

“Probably, but who cares about a little goat doody?” Mama waves a hand and shoves me toward the stairs. She has the strength of a bull when she sets her mind to it.

Still trying to shake the vestiges of sleep, I climb the stairs, skipping the familiar creaking ones that I memorized when I was in high school, trying to sneak around. Trying being the operative word. Mama and Daddy were wise to me, and one of them always seemed to be waiting by the door on the nights I tried to sneak out.

Unsure where to go, I check Ella’s room first, still shocked by the transformation of the basic room my brothers used to share into what looks like a cupcake factory exploded. The bed is empty, and sure enough, there are goat droppings everywhere.

I follow the trail, which leads to my old room. Did Ella go sleep alone where she’d slept with Zoey the night before?

I push open the door slowly, not wanting to wake her, thankful that Daddy recently must have greased the hinges so it doesn’t squeak. When the bed comes fully into view, I freeze. Because Ella isn’t alone.

There’s the little girl, spooning a baby goat. Enough to knock my heart off its axis. Lying curled up against Ella is Zoey. Her hair is down, fanning over the pillow like white gold. She came back. I cross the room, freezing when a loud groan sounds from the floor.

Stupid old house and its stupid creaky floors.

When I don’t see movement, I step closer and gently brush my fingers over Zoey’s hair before I can tell myself to stop. It’s then that I notice her smile. I’m about to pull my hand away when her eyes open, finding mine. She looks a lot more awake than I did when my parents got me up a few minutes before.

“Hi,” she says.

“Hi?”

Her smile grows, and she begins to wiggle under the covers, like she’s about to get up. “No,” I tell her. “Wait a minute.” Spying her cell phone on the bedside table, I pick it up. “May I?”

She nods, and I unlock it, taking a few photos, then texting them to myself. I set the phone back down, and now she does wiggle out of bed. She’s wearing thin cotton pajama bottoms and a fitted tank top. It’s the most casual I’ve ever seen her, and she’s never looked more beautiful with her hair cascading loosely over her exposed shoulders.

Now that we’re almost nose to nose, she covers her mouth with her hand. “Morning breath,” she says. “Can we talk downstairs in a minute? I have to brush my teeth.”

I hope her desire to have clean breath means she wants to do more than talk.

We separate, and I duck into the bathroom downstairs to brush my teeth. For talking. And whatever else.

Mama and Daddy have disappeared. I’m not sure if they went back to bed or out to the barns, but coffee is brewing. I fix two mugs of coffee, then wait until the creaky stairs announce Zoey’s descent. I’m grinning when she walks into the kitchen, thankful that she hasn’t changed, even if she did put her hair up in a ponytail.

I would take her any way I can get her. But in this moment, I love her all sleep-rumpled and adorable.

“Want to drink coffee on the porch and watch the sun rise?”

She glances toward the window. “The sun isn’t up yet?”

“Nope. This is the pre-dawn show. Come on or we’ll miss it.”

I have about ten million questions, or maybe just ten really big ones, but I table them for a few minutes as Zoey and I sip coffee, watching what amounts to the sky rolling out a red carpet for the sun’s arrival.

“Argh!” Zoey says when the sun finally crests, flaming gold and blinding. “My retinas!”

I squint. “Yeah. Don’t look directly at it. Maybe we should move to the swing on the side of the porch. It faces south.”

“Good plan,” she says.

We leave our coffee mugs on the swing, and when we stand, I lace our fingers together with zero hesitation. The contact feels both totally familiar and comfortable, while at the same time making me ache for more. Zoey gives me a smile that reiterates that message, and I swear, my lips are aching to connect with hers.

As we turn the corner to the south side of the porch, I spin to face her. Letting go of her hand, I slide my palms up her arms until one rests on the back of her head and one on her neck. There is no mistaking what this is. Her eyes go a little wide, dropping to my lips, then back up to my eyes.

“Gavin, shouldn’t we talk first?”

“First, last. The order doesn’t matter to me. You came back, and that tells me most of what I need to know. I have things to say, and also things that don’t require words.”

I lean closer, and she flattens her palms against my chest, giving just the slightest pressure.

“Wait. Can we clear up just a few things first? Because I feel like once we start not talking, we won’t want to stop.”

“Fair enough. But I’m starting.”

“Always so bossy,” she says.

I grin. “Not going to change, even if I’m not your boss anymore. First things first, I’m glad you came back, but I’m sorry I didn’t chase you down.”

“I wouldn’t have wanted you to leave Ella,” she says, and that sends something warm and happy dancing through my chest.

“That’s the only reason I didn’t come after you.”

“It’s nice to know you would have otherwise,” she says with a smile.

I lean into her palms more, and she lets me inch closer. “I would have chased you into forever. I’m not letting you go.”

“I’m sorry I left,” Zoey says simply. “I got scared.”

“You had every right to be. There’s a lot against us from the start. And then things moved so fast, carrying us along. I should have made sure you knew how I felt much sooner. Years ago.”

Her blue eyes blink up at me, so bright and clear and beautiful. “And how do you feel?” she asks in a whisper.

“Like a man who will do anything for the woman he loves. And I do love you, Zoey. There are complications, but I’d like to think love will uncomplicate them. That is … if that love is returned?”

I watch the corners of her mouth twitch, tightening like she’s keeping her smile in check. “Gavin, are you fishing for compliments?”

“I wasn’t. But now I’m going to be demanding.”

I press even closer, until she’s backed up against the porch railing. Her palms are still on my chest, but they’re not pushing me away.

“Zoey, do you love me? Do you want to figure out this messy life with me? Perhaps build a messy one together, and, when I’m ready to properly ask you, be my wife?”

Maybe it’s too much. Definitely too fast. But I figure that I might as well put it all the way out there at once. Then, at least, we’ll know. Thankfully, Zoey doesn’t make me wait.

Her smile is brighter than the sun that tipped over the horizon moments ago, more spectacular too. “I love you, Gavin. I’m terrified, but I do love you, and I’d like to figure this out.”

She doesn’t stop me now from pressing my mouth to hers in a kiss that feels anything but complicated. She tastes of coffee and mint and forever. Her hands bunch in my shirt, yanking me closer, and I slide the hair tie out of her hair, running my fingers through the long strands.

The heat of the day begins to creep over us. It’s still summer in Texas, and the sunlight is merciless. Her lips are soft and hot, and even my fantasy barn kiss doesn’t compare to this one.

I pull away moments later, resting my forehead on hers and letting my hands trace over her cheeks, her neck, and her shoulders.

“I love you,” I whisper, needing to say the words again. I have a feeling I’m going to need to say them a lot.

“I love you too,” she says.

We stand there for a few minutes, holding each other as the ranch wakes around us. My thoughts are on Zoey, and our future. But I’m also wondering when Ella will wake up, and also how much goat poop I’m going to be cleaning from the upstairs. I’m considering whether Zoey would want to live in my house in Austin, and if it would be a conflict of interest for me to write a letter of recommendation for whatever job she applies for next. I’m thinking about whether Eleanor is going to fight me for custody or just give Ella up.

Zoey presses a finger to my forehead, smoothing out the furrow that I’m sure my worries are causing.

“We’ll figure it all out,” she says. “Together.”

Her words instantly reassure me. “We will.”

“Speaking of complications, you and Ella have been officially invited to my birthday dinner tonight. With my brother and Abby. And … my Dad.”

I know the crease Zoey smoothed away is already back. I sigh. “Two questions. One: does he know how old I am?” She nods. “Two: Is he going to answer the door with a shotgun?”

Zoey’s grin turns wicked. “For you? Most definitely.”