Page 76 of Cockpit
“And I want to know why you aren’t acting on it.”
I sigh in exasperation and lean back in my chair, turning my head her way. “Didn’t we just talk about why? My father. His rules. Bias?”
“So, you do want a little something from Malone.”
I just walked right into that one.
“It’s complicated.” Great answer, Sidney. Way to shoot her down.
“Everything good is.”
Don’t I know it? Grayson’s groan fills my ears. The way he bit into his bottom lip as he came owns my mind. “Leave it be, Rissa.”
“You’ve seen him, right? Six feet plus. Nice ass. Great smile. Sexy as sin. Hell, you’re the one who wrote his bio. You know all about that fine package.” Package. I gulp down the laugh that bubbles up and will the flush on my cheeks to go away. “So, why don’t you want to act on it when he’s there for the taking?”
“Uh-huh.”
Leave.
It.
Be.
I’ve been on cloud nine since he left my house. Cloud fricking nine. Regardless of how many times I’ve told myself it’s just because the sex was incredible, I still don’t buy it. I’m obsessing. Over him. Over wanting him again. Over telling myself it was just sex.
One time.
Well, technically two times . . . but that was all it was.
Sex.
Not love.
“Sometimes rules need to be broken. Sometimes that’s the answer you’re looking for,” she says after a few moments and has me freezing mid-motion as a myriad of consequences flicker through my mind, one more than all others. “What is it you’re afraid to lose if you act on it and sleep with him? Dreaming about that big job at Haute, were you?”
I do a double take. Did I accidentally say that aloud? “How did you know about that?”
“I figured it out.” She shrugs. “There’s no reason you’d accept a job here at a parenting magazine unless there was a serious upside to it for you. A week before you showed up, I heard rumors about the editor-in-chief position at Haute possibly coming up for grabs next year and figured that was what you were aiming for.”
“How did you hear that?”
“I keep tabs on positions within the company . . . I never know when I might want to live the high-journalism life again,” she says and winks.
“Keeping your options open is always a good idea.”
She looks outside at the kids who are getting off the bus and falls silent for a moment, her voice quiet when she speaks again. “Do you miss it?”
“Miss what?”
“Your old life. Your high heels that are meant for fancy nightclubs instead of the Main Street sidewalks of Sunnyville. The city life. The smells and the sounds of it.” She laughs, but it’s small and almost wistful. “That’s what I miss the most about working for The Post. How the city would come to life. The galas and the functions and the hobnobbing, even though none of them trusted me not to put their words on the record.”
“My life isn’t as glamorous as everyone thinks it is.” I say the words but, sometimes, it actually was. They all acted as if that part of my life was something I couldn’t be without. Yes, I loved the galas and the functions and the social parts of my job, but I could take them or leave them most nights.
“Oh, shush, and let this divorced mother pretend that it’s everything I think it is.”
“Okay.” I smile when I look at her. Her hair might be pulled back in a clip, and her lipstick may have faded with the hours of the day, but I can see how she once fit into that life. “In the meantime, I’ll be over here, trying to figure out how to make the next round of voting that much more spectacular.”
“Well, if you look out that window right there, you might just get some inspiration.”
