Page 29 of The Outline


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He took a deep breath and I saw at least five million different emotions fly across his face before he steeled himself and spoke. “About before, after I told you about…my dad…I really wanted to kiss you.” Another big inhale. “I’m not so sure that I actually would have, because of you being my client, but I really fucking wanted to.”

I couldn’t pretend. The words just came. “I know you did.”

“Is it okay I admit that?”

“As long as it’s okay for me to admit that I probably would have let you, except for the fact I couldn’t get out of my own head in that moment.”

“I got that. I saw it in your face, heard it in your voice.” He took a moment before asking the question I’d been expecting. “It’s because of…him, right? The Boston guy?”

I nodded slowly. “Yeah. I realize I haven’t told you details other than it was bad. But I’m working through things. And it was almost good when you were…touching me.”

“Almost good? You really know how to turn a boy’s head, Sadie.” He grinned.

“Shut up. You know what I mean. Before my stupid brain got involved, I really liked it.”

“I thought so.”

“Don’t get cocky.”

He smirked at me. “I guess it’s a smart idea that we don’t worry about that now, since you’re still technically my boss.” I gave him side-eye at that comment as he continued to grin. After everything we’d shared, and especially after today, the idea that we weren’t something more was laughable.

“Look, Sadie, I get the timing is bad. But it’s never been this effortless for me, being around someone. I’d like to explore what there could be between us. I won’t push, but when you’re ready…I’m here.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. I realize it’s not as simple as I like you and you like me. You’ve got your past, and I come pre-packaged with a third grader whose hands are always inexplicably sticky and a grouchy almost-teen whose sole peanut butter eating method is spoon-in-jar-double-dipping. I’d just like the opportunity to spend some time together, to get to know each other better. Without expectations. If you’re down with that.”

Backwashed peanut butter seemed a small price to pay for the chance to spend time with Renn without the pressure to define what we were.

I was suddenly not feeling my burrito. I wanted to tell him how happy he made me. I wanted to tell him how scared I was. When I spoke, it was barely audible. “Seriously, Renn, I was not…expecting this. Expecting you.”

He stood, reaching out hesitantly and drawing me toward him, giving me plenty of time to signal if I was unwilling, before pulling me into a hug.

Renn’s arms circled my torso, and I reached around him, tentatively at first, finally clasping my hands together above his waist as I leaned into his embrace. “This okay?” He whispered, and I nodded.

One of Renn’s arms stayed around my middle while the other wrapped around my shoulders. His fingers splayed across my back, anchoring me to his solid frame. I felt the slide of his hands steal through every part of my body, overwhelming my senses like an intruder. His lemony tea tree oil scent surrounded me. I moved to lay my cheek against his chest as he rested his chin on top of my head, swaying to the soft music while permitting no space between us.

My legs turned to jelly as I surrendered to his embrace. He was keeping himself carefully in check, but the errant finger I felt hooking into my center back belt loop was a sign his equilibrium did not come easy. He exhaled hotly, and the touch of his breath against my ear sent shivers to my feet. I squeezed my thighs together.

As far as hugs went, this one was off the charts. After a minute, Renn leaned back, still holding me around the waist.

He was reaching one hand toward my face, about to say something, when the door opened abruptly, and Archie came in.

“Hey, did you get Taco Bell, or did we decide to move the dumpster into the main room?” Archie was talking and laughing at his own joke as he entered, and although Renn and I separated quickly, I couldn’t be entirely sure of what he’d seen.

My face flushed and I jumped away from Renn, as though he’d suddenly been covered in dogshit.Smooth, Sadie. Real smooth.

Renn recovered quicker and asked Archie if he’d like a burrito. Archie looked back and forth between the two of us before shaking his head and declaring he’d sooner eat a dirty sock.

“Don’t mind him,” Renn said to me. “Archie had a bad Taco Bell experience a few years ago. I won’t go into the gory details, but let’s just say it involved a seven-layer burrito that he swears included an extra layer and resulted in him needing a two-day vacation from the studio.”

Archie visibly convulsed. “Hand to God, Renn, it’s like I said—that guy definitely spit in my food. He’d come in for a flash piece the week before and was mad I didn’t give him a deal.”

“Sure, Arch. I’m sure that was it. And not the three pot brownies you’d had the day before.”

“It was the burrito, man.”

“If you say so.”