Me: I can drive myself.
Kasen: I'm picking you up. It's not a negotiation.
I should argue. Should assert my independence. Remind him that just because we're fucking doesn't mean he gets to dictate my life.
I do none of those things.
Me: Fine.
I set my phone down, wondering when exactly I started giving in to Kasen James, of all people. When his stubbornness stopped being infuriating and started being... charming? God help me.
The next hour disappears in a blur of emails and reports. I'm deep in quarterly projections when a knock on my glass door pulls me back to reality.
Kasen stands there holding a brown bag and a pint of ice cream, looking like every bad decision I've ever wanted to make.Dark jeans, a Timber Brewing hoodie with the sleeves pushed up to show off those drool worthy inked forearms, that stupid beanie that somehow works on him.
"What are you doing here?" I ask as he steps into my office, closing the door behind him.
"Bringing you lunch." He sets his offerings on my desk. "Figured you'd forget to eat."
I eye the bag suspiciously. "I'm perfectly capable of feeding myself."
"Sure you are." At this point, I think we both know I’m only fighting this because it’s a habit, not because I actually mind him doing things for me.
In fact, I like it.
Don’t tell him I said that.
“But would it be the grilled chicken salad Reed recommended? Or the candy bar I know you've got stashed in your top drawer?"
Fuck. How does he know about my emergency Snickers?
"Stalker."
He shrugs and shoves his hands in his pockets.
"You know, it’s really annoying when you’re right.” He just smirks and nods toward the bag. “Thank you." I peek inside and, sure enough, there's a container of exactly what he described. "And the ice cream?"
His lips quirk up in a half-smile that does annoying things to my insides. "Phish Food. You mentioned wanting some last night before we..." He trails off, his eyes darkening at the memory. "Got distracted."
Distracted.That’s one way to put it.
"You didn't have to do this."
"I know. I thought it might make up for the healthy lunch." He sinks into the chair in front of my desk, and the intensity inhis eyes makes me forget about the glass walls and our potential audience. "And I wanted to see you."
The simple admission knocks me off balance. It shouldn't. Not after everything we've done. Not after how intimate we've been. But somehow, this casual confession of wanting to see me in the middle of a workday feels more revealing than anything that's happened between us.
"You saw me this morning," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "Pretty thoroughly."
"Not enough."
I don't know what to do with this version of Kasen. The one who brings me lunch and ice cream. The one who admits to missing me after a few hours apart. The one who looks at me like I'm something he can’t get enough of instead of someone he hates.
"People are going to talk," I say, nodding toward the warehouse floor visible from here where several employees are pretending to work while obviously staring at us.
He shrugs. "Let them."
"Easy for you to say. You don't have employees questioning your judgment."
