Dean’s hand rests on mine. “You shouldn’t have ever had to feel that way, Holls.”
I shake my head, not wanting to spill any more of my crazy in front of him. “Next topic.”
“All right, why don’t you tell me why you ran off last week?”
He’s like a beacon for topics I want to avoid. “Jesus Cringle! Can’t we talk about the damn weather instead of the worst topics possible?”
“Cringle?”
I know . . . I’m a dork. My mother used to say it when she was mad instead of cursing, so I can’t help it. “It’s my version of Christ.”
His smile brightens the dim space. “Adorable.”
My stomach clenches, and I look away. Is he calling me adorable or does he think the word is adorable? Either way, it shouldn’t matter. Dean and I are nothing, and we’re about to battle for this account where I will make everyone believe the holidays are nothing but joy because I’m a professional.
“Do you think we could talk about something else?”
“You want to talk, I pick what we talk about. You just mentioned the sex, I’d like to find out what the hell had you bolt like that.” His eyes are the most beautiful shade of green.
“There’s nothing to talk about.” Really, they are almost hypnotic in their stupid, deep color.
“I disagree.”
I tuck my hair behind my ear and sigh. “I didn’t bolt. It was late, we clearly hadn’t been thinking, and I didn’t want to make things awkward. I got my coat, and when I looked back, your office door was closed and the lights were off.”
Dean pushes a piece of my hair that fell from its place and shakes his head. “I was waiting for you, Holls. I heard you talking to yourself.”
My eyes bulge. “What?”
“I heard you say this was a mistake and that you wished you never saw me again.”
It was what I said to myself to make whatever happened next okay. “I . . .”
“I get it, you were scared.”
My heart races as I stare into his eyes. “Of what?”
He leans in closer. “Me.”
He does scare me. I’m scared because my brain clearly stops functioning when he’s around and I will end up saying something dumb or making a bigger fool of myself. I’m scared that I’ll spend another Christmas/birthday wondering what’s wrong with me. I’m terrified that, once again, I’ll be left alone.
“What do you want me to say?”
“The truth for starters.”
“The truth is that we had sex and then you never called.”
He shakes his head. “You wanted me to call?”
I don’t know what I wanted. “No. Yes. I just . . . let’s not do this, okay?”
“There’s a reason I didn’t call. Contrary to what you think, Holly, I’m not a dick.”
“Regarding work, you are . . .”
“Okay, maybe with that.”
I sigh, which is a bit of a laugh, and so does he. We all know that Dean is ruthless when it comes to his job. He started at the bottom and has fought his way up. With the project manager being transferred to the Phoenix office, there will be a very big promotion up for grabs here. His name plaque might as well be on the office door already.
“What are you heading to California for?” I ask, hoping we can talk about anything other than the sex and lack of calls.
He releases a heavy breath. “My family lives there, and I’m going home for the holidays and staying for a while after.”
“What do you mean a while?”
Dean rubs the back of his head. “My mother has been begging me to stay closer to home. I guess she misses me or something.” He laughs. “So, I figure maybe I’ll see what’s out there and interview a bit. I don’t know. It depends on the promotion here too . . .”
My heart falls, and I have the strongest urge to cry. I don’t want him to leave, which is stupid and scary. I wonder if the cold air does something to my brain? It would add another item to the list of things I hate about December.
“Oh.” Is all I seem to get out.
“Oh?”
“I guess I’m surprised you’d even think of leaving Chicago. Especially since you seem to be the golden boy here. It didn’t even occur to me that you’d transfer out there or leave the company when we all know you’re going to get the promotion.”
Dean shakes his head. “You’re the one they keep going to for all these pitches. We both know that the promotion is yours.”
I jerk my head back. He’s crazy. “Please, you win every account you pitch for. It’s why we all hate you.”
“You included?” he asked as he clearly fought to keep the smirk off his lips.
I wish I did. I wish he wasn’t so damn good looking. I wish I didn’t dream of him every night and didn’t find his confidence so damn attractive. I would give anything for the simmer of feelings I have for him to die out. That would really make it easier.