Embarrassingly, I'd gotten into two fights since I'd met him – one with Imogen and one with Darbie's friend. With a nervous laugh, I asked, "Which one?"
With no trace of humor, he said, "You know which one."
Of course I did.After all, we were talking about that godawful shirt, which had nothing to do with Imogen.
"Yeah," I said. "I was making a joke." Quickly I added, "And just so you know, I don't normally do that."
"Do what? Joke?" A hint of humor crept into his voice. "Or fight?"
As if he didn't know."You know exactly what I mean. I’m just saying, it's not like I intended to fight with either one of them. And they weren'treallyfights anyway."
Jack gave me a sideways glance, but said nothing.
"They weren't," I insisted. "They both just kind of happened. And technically, the thing with Imogen wasn't a fight at all. Mostly, I fell on her, which hardly counts since it was sort of an accident."
Was I rambling?
Probably.
But I knew why. Something in his demeanor was making me nervous, and I was getting the distinct impression that whatever he was about to tell me, it was worse than I might've imagined.
He was silent for nearly two whole blocks. But then, at the next red light, Jack turned and gave me a serious look. "The thing is, your undershirt, it didn't hide much."
Heat flooded my face. "You mean my camisole? Uh, yeah. I know. But I wasn't counting on anyone seeing it."
"Then you counted wrong."
I almost winced. I reallyhadmade a giant spectacle of myself, even if that hadn't been my intention. "Then I guess I owe you an apology, huh?"
"Forget that."
As if I could.And now, adding to my embarrassment was the fact that I hadn't apologized sooner. If he were a normal boss, I might've apologized up and down by now. But the truth was, he didn't feel like a boss at all.
He felt like something else. I just didn't know what.
Regardless, I needed to say it. "Just for the record, I reallyamsorry. I should've told you sooner. And honestly, it's not the kind of thing–"
"Stop."
I bit my lip. "Stop what? Apologizing?"
"Stop all of it." His gaze locked on mine. "I'm trying to tell you–"
"Iknowwhat you're trying to tell me."
As my face burned and my palms grew sweaty, I forced myself to say it so he didn't have to. "I know people got glimpses or whatever of my, um, chest, I guess. And I know that's not terrific. But honestly, it could've beensomuch worse, so in a way, I should be relieved."
In the driver's seat, Jack turned forward once again. I followed his gaze and was surprised to see that the light had just turned green.
Already, the cars ahead of us were moving again.
As our own car moved forward, I asked, "How'd you know it was green? You weren't even watching."
"Yeah I was."
"But you didn'tlooklike you were watching."
"Peripheral vision," he explained.
