Page 44 of The Snowflake Effect

“No.” He shakes his head, nothing but sincerity in his intense expression. “The job has nothing to do with how I feel about you, Shay. The designs I saw in Aspen are better than any others we’ve reviewed. But…”

His dark eyes skim every inch of me, nearly melting my skirt. “I also want to pick up where we left off. As much as I’ve tried, I can’t forget you. And not just our conference meetings. It’s everything about you: your skiing, the way you calmed me the afternoon I dislocated my shoulder, the few times you forgot to yell at me and smiled. I’ve lived with you in my head the past three months, and I’m done lusting after a woman across the country. But the job is separate from my feelings. And yeah, I have a son,” he says before I can cut in. “I’m sorry I didn’t mention him. As much as I love him, it was nice to have a simpler life for a few days and⁠—”

“Who was the woman at the store?” I blurt.

His jaw twitches like it does after we fight and before he claims my lips in a kiss. But he doesn’t lean in. “If you’d let me finish my sentence, then you’d know that woman is my assistant. She dates women, not men, and is here to help me with work and with Jackson. My wife, if you’re wondering, died seven years ago. The day Jackson was born.”

His last gruff words deflate my remaining anger.

That level of loss is unimaginable. Life altering in so many ways. In Aspen, I avoided discussing my mentally abusive ex, preferring to live in the moment. Shake off my history for a few carefree days. Kolton’s evasions make perfect sense now, too.

His advances, however, I’m still trying to unpack.

He steps into my space until he has me cornered against the island. “Take the job, Shay. You’re the designer I want on this project. Take the job, and please go out with me, too. On a proper date.” He grips the countertop, caging me between his arms.

I force a long swallow. “What’s the point? We don’t live in the same province. We have no future together.”

“Maybe, but we have right now. And who knows what the future will bring? If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that life can change on a dime, and I’m tired of worrying about tomorrow.”

I worry about everything: job fulfillment, money, dating. And I’ve replayed our time together ad nauseam the past three months, rereading our recent texts. With Kolton’s mouth inches from mine, I want nothing more than to suck his tongue and grab his hips, desperate for him to ease the ache building under my skirt.

But this is my life he’s messing with, my fragile livelihood.

“I’m sorry about your wife, and I’ve thought about you, too. A lot.” He presses closer, barely giving me room to breathe, to think. “But any way you work this out”—I struggle to form the words gathering in my mind—“this situation ends with a no from me.”

He moves closer still, his unmistakable erection ghosting against my skirt. “I beg to differ.”

I place my hands on his chest to gain some stability, some distance, and a shiver runs through him. The sensation conducts through my fingers like electricity, the attraction that spiked between us in Colorado as strong as ever. My knees weaken. My mouth dries.

But nothing about this is a good idea. “I can’t take a promotion if I didn’t earn it, Kolton, and I’d never be okay with a guy using his sway to get me a job because he wants a date. So if you tell me, honestly this time, that’s all this is, a ruse to get me between your sheets”—I swallow, wishing like heck I could stop picturing him thrusting into me—“then I say: Fuck you. To the job and the date. But if you really think my designs are that good, and this date business is just an added bonus, then I’ll take the work. I know I can do it. But it’s still a fuck-you to the date. The last thing I need is for the firm to think I slept my way to the top. So, which ‘fuck you’ do you prefer?”

As he studies my face, unease clenches in my gut.

Kolton’s sincerity and interest when mentioning Raven’s ink and my designs wasn’t fake. Not only did he remember my journal, he remembered what I said about incorporating edgy tattoo images into a space. Since Lily took her freelance job with Moondog, I’ve checked them out. There’s no doubt I could sink my teeth into their rock-and-roll vibe.

Images flip rapid-fire through my mind, a jumble of inspiration that has me itching to get out my sketch pad. But if he chooses “fuck you” number one, I won’t get the chance.

Seeming to come to a decision, Kolton releases the counter and grips my hips, each finger branding me.

“I’ll take the second fuck-you,” he says, and my tense shoulders relax. A fraction. He lowers his mouth to my ear, his hot breath igniting goose bumps across my flesh. My traitorous hips tilt forward. “But it’s only a matter of time before I take you out, Shay. That’s a promise.”

The loud screech from the other room sends Kolton spinning away from me as I try to recover from his nearness. His searing touch.

He runs a hand over his head and ponytail, and I’m sure my cheeks match the shade of my scarlet blouse. I just manage to fix the button that came undone before Hilary pokes her head in the kitchen.

“Have you two worked everything out?” she asks, assessing me with those sharp eyes.

“Yes,” Kolton says quickly.

She beams. “Wonderful. If you wouldn’t mind coming to sign some paperwork, I’d like Maeve to have a quick word with Shay, then we can set up the first meeting.”

He lingers a second, then nods at me. “I look forward to working with you. I know we can build on those meetings in Aspen.”

His boots thump away as lust knots in my belly.

I should be furious with Kolton for barreling into my life, no thought to the damage he’d cause, personally or professionally. But he just confessed how much he’s been thinking about me the past three months. Probably as much as I’ve thought about him. And he loves my designs.

Kolton not only saw my work, he saw me. My vision.