I bite back a laugh, watching as she fans the smoke with an oven mitt. Coming up behind her, I wrap my arms around her waist and rest my chin on her shoulder. “What was it?”
Her body sags against mine. I can tell she’s pouting and I’m suddenly wishing she were facing me so I can see the way her full bottom lip sticks out, begging for my mouth to be on hers.
“Don’t make fun of me,” she says. “I was trying to make crème brûlée.”
My favorite dessert.
I lift my chin off her shoulder, staring at the dishes. I chuckle. “That’s sweet, Lena. But you’re not supposed to use the oven to caramelize the sugar on top. You’re supposed to use a torch.”
“I thought so.” She shrugs one shoulder. “But I figured if I put the oven to the broil setting, it would do the same thing. I didn’t realize it would speed up the process.”
“Yeah, broil isn’t the same.” I pick up a spoon Lena had sitting on the counter and tap the top layer of burned sugar. It makes a cracking sound but not the kind that usually happens when you crack into crème brûlée. Lena groans, her body still pressed against mine.
I laugh. “It’s the thought that counts.”
She spins around, pressing her back up against the edge of the counter. I don’t move, keeping her pinned between me and the kitchen sink. Tilting my head down, I stare into her eyes.
“How was it getting off work early tonight?”
“It was nice. For once I wasn’t the last one in the building.” I give her a smile but it soon fades. “I spoke to Natalie on my way out though.”
Lena reaches behind her, gripping the edge of the counter. I step back, leaning against the counter opposite Lena.
“What did she say?” Sadness fills her expression. I’m not sure if it’s from knowing how awkward the situation is, or if it’s because every time Natalie’s name is mentioned she thinks of the kiss. Even if I wasn’t the one who wanted it in the first place.
“I asked her what she meant that night, about not expecting to love working at Bistro.” I run my hand down my face, still confused. “I don’t know, Len. It terrified her to talk about it.”
“Terrified her?” Lena pushes off the counter, closing the space between us. She stands in the middle of the kitchen, her eyebrows knitting together.
“Yeah. She said that she shouldn’t be talking about it with me in the first place and that she didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Me?” She points to her chest.
I nod. “I’m telling you, Lena. She didn’t look like the same person as she did a few weeks ago.”
“What do you think is going on with her?”
“I don’t know. But ever since she tried kissing me, she’s been different.”
“Maybe she’s upset because you turned her down.”
I mull over Lena’s words, chewing on the inside of my cheek. Scratching at the scruff lining my jaw, I remember the fear in Natalie’s eyes. They were vacant yet filled with trepidation. I shake my head.
“No. I don’t think that’s it. She looked afraid.”
Lena takes one step closer to me, tipping her chin up to meet my gaze. Deep worry fills her expression. It shoots straight through me, settling in the pit of my stomach.
“Afraid of what?” she asks.
“I don’t know.” I wrap my arms around Lena, suddenly feeling the need to protect her. Try to wrap her up in an invisible cage. I press my lips to her hair, breathing her in as she presses her face to my chest. “I’ll talk to her the next time she works and see if she’ll tell me anything else.”
Twenty-Four
Lena
My anxiety was all over the place.
I couldn’t stop thinking about Logan’s conversation with Natalie last night and the possibilities of what might happen when he talked to her tonight. On top of that, I had a presentation with Candace and the other lawyers in the law firm on my latest marketing strategy.
Work had become a place of solace when I wasn’t able to be with Logan. Work and home, they were the only places I wanted to be.
The tall towering building I work in is littered with security, from top to bottom. James, the security guard who helped me the day I tripped out of the elevator had become a friend. I learned he was married to his wife for almost fifty years before she passed away of brain cancer. She was his best friend for nearly half his life. He told me that after her passing, he refused to retire, claiming his job had given him a sense of purpose. It also filled the void of loneliness he’d felt after losing his wife.
After bringing in James’ favorite breakfast, plain bagel with veggie cream cheese, I’d ridden the twenty-three floors to prepare for the biggest presentation of my life. It was one thing to conduct your business through social media, it was another to conduct it in front of ten lawyers and paralegals.
I’m walking down the hallway of glass encased offices, hoping to make it to the conference room before anyone else, allowing myself more than enough time to set up. My arms are filled with stacks of files, the papers sticking out the edges, when I see a familiar man walking toward me. He’s dressed in a crisp black suit, a slim black tie underneath. The bright white of his shirt is the same shade as his perfectly straight teeth.
“Max?” I stop in my tracks, nearly dropping the files all over the carpeted floor.
Rushing toward me, he reaches out, stopping them from falling. “Hey, Lena.” He starts grabbing at the files, holding them against his chest. “Here, let me help you with those.”
“Thanks.” I give him a tight-lipped smile and nod down the hallway, indicating where I’m headed. He follows without question.
“What are you doing here?” I ask
