“I want to complicate the hell out of our friendship, Kitten.”

“You’re only saying that because I’m saying no. You like a challenge. That’s all this is.”

“No,” I say, “It’s not. I want you because I just do. Like I told you, I can’t explain why, I just know I do.”

“Zach…” I can hear the waver in her voice. I nearly have her convinced to be mine.

As I wait on her reply, Trip’s door springs open. Shit. He’s the last person I need overhearing this conversation. He’ll never let me live down that I have feelings for Aubrey. It’s hard enough undergoing his speculations.

“Look, Aubrey, I want to finish this talk, but I have to go. I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Okay. Talk to you soon.”

I end the call and stuff the phone back in my pocket as Trip makes it to the end of the hallway.

Trip runs his fingers through his black hair and then slaps his baseball cap on backwards. “Who was that?”

I narrow my eyes. “No one. Why?”

He shrugs. “You seem weird, like all fidgety or something.”

I square my shoulders. “I’m not fucking fidgety.”

He smirks. “You forget how long I’ve knows your ass. You do fidget, especially when you’re uncomfortable. So out with it? Was it your dad?”

“No? Why would you think it was him?”

“Because every time he calls you, you get this way—out of sorts. It’s like you don’t know what to do with yourself. On one hand you want to hate him, but on the other you won’t let yourself because you still believe his shitty life is your fault.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose and count to three. I’m about three seconds from losing my cool on Trip and I don’t want to fucking do that. I know he’s trying to help me. “Leave it, man. You don’t get it.”

I turn to walk away from him feeling the sudden urge for space, but he grabs my arm, halting me. “I do fucking get it. I was there, remember? What happened to your sister—and your mom—wasn’t your fault. You don’t owe him shit. You have to cut him loose.”

I roll my eyes and stare up at the ceiling. “I can’t do that. It’s my fault we don’t have a family. He wouldn’t have a drinking problem and could hold down a job if my mom were still around. Don’t you see, his shitty life is my fault!”

Trip pulls his lips into a tight line and then lets go of my arm. “I hope one day you can see the truth. You’re not the bad one in this situation. You were only a kid. Your dad needs real help, not financial help like you give him.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes life is what it is, Trip. We’re both fucked up in the head, and no amount of professional help is going to change that.” I don’t give him time to say anything because I don’t want to fucking hear it.

To think a few minutes ago I was actually giving myself permission to have a little happiness. Sometimes reality’s perfect timing socks me in the nuts with a reminder that I’m an asshole that doesn’t deserve anything good.

I need to leave Aubrey alone, but I’m afraid at this point I can’t. She’s worked her way into my head, and I don’t see any other way of getting her out other than letting her see the ugly side of me that sends her running for the fucking hills. We’ll have to see how long I can hold out.

AUBREY

It’s been a few days since I talked with Zach. I waited for his phone call that night, but my phone never rang. He was probably still drunk from the night before. That’s the only explanation I have for him talking crazy about wanting a relationship.

I sigh as I grab the Black Falcon file from the drawer and open it up to work on sponsorship letters for the campaign like Isaac asked.

I glance across the hall at his open office door across from my desk. Since we had drinks the other night, he’s left it wide open every day. It’s almost like he’s waiting on me to make the next move. While I would love to focus my undivided attention on his advances, my stupid heart won’t let me. Somehow, I allowed a crazy, tatted-up rocker to get under my skin.

I promised myself the time I spent with him would be the last of my wild days, not the beginnings of another guaranteed heartbreak.

The shrill ring of my desk phone breaks me out of my thoughts. “Yes, Mr. Walters.”

Isaac chuckles into the phone. “That’s not a good sign. I’m back to Mr. Walters.”

Heat fills my cheeks. “I’m sorry. It seems more, I don’t know, formal, I guess.”

“Yes. I suppose it does. Do you mind bringing those sponsorship letters in as soon as you have them written up? I want to double check them before you send them out.”

I raise my eyebrows. He doesn’t think I’m capable of typing a letter? I’m a little put off he wants to check it like we’re in the second grade, but what can I do? He is my boss. “Sure. No problem.”

“Great. See you in a bit.”

I shake my head and try to refocus on the document on my screen. The words flow, but not as easily as they did before he put the nugget of doubt in my brain that I might actually suck at this job.

When I’m finally finished printing the last one, I grab the stack and head into Isaac’s office.

He’s working away on his computer. His black-framed glasses perch on his nose as he stares intently at the work on the screen. The black suit-jacket is a stark contrast to the bright green tie he’s wearing, but it works. It totally helps bring out the green in his eyes.