“You take anything with your whisky?”

“You have ginger?”

I smirk at her. “You would be a ginger girl.”

I put some ice and whisky into both of our glasses,and some ginger ale into hers.

I hand Brett her drink, and we clink glasses as the rain hammers down outside.

“One of the worst storms I can remember in Blackwell,” she says as she stares outside into the pitch black. I gaze outside, and I’m happy to take my mind off the fact that I just broke my cardinal, number one rule on which I built my business:

Never hook up with an employee.

“It’s bad out there,” I agree, letting my mind focus on the storm.

“I wonder if there’s a tornado watch.” Brett’s eyes glisten in the dimmed light.

“Do you think I’d let us be on one of the top floors of Blackwell’s tallest building if there was a tornado watch?”

I swagger toward my couch, because that’s just how I feel after hooking up with the hottest, most precious girl I’ve ever seen.

Who would have suspected the most innocent looking one is the one with the dirtiest mind of all.

I bade her to come sit next to me on the leather couch, patting the spot next to me. “Come. Sit.”

“I’ve already done the first, so I accept your proposal,” she says, somehow, with a straight face.

I throw my head back in laughter.

She sits next to me, and I run my eyes up and down her again.

“I feel a little ridiculous in no pants and a blouse,” she says as she sits.

“Well you don’t look ridiculous. You look fucking sexy.”

“Really?”

She seems surprised, which shocks me.

“Hell yeah. Is the Pope Catholic? I’ll answer that one for you. Yes, and you’re sexy as fuck. Better get used to me saying that.”

She chuckles, and runs her hand up my arm. Her touch gets my blood rushing.

I don’t want this night to end. For most of the past year, life’s been a slog of deals and plans and business wins and losses. Sure, I’ve had a few ladies thrown into the mix at times, but none like Brett.

I’ve never even had a shot at a wholesome-but-hot, sweet-but-naughty soul like Miss Brett Blue.

“Do you believe in fate, Brett?”

She leans her body into mine, and I wrap my arm around her.

Her face nuzzles into my shoulder, and she brings her eyes up. “Wow. You don’t waste any time going deep, do you?”

I spin my glass of whisky and stroke her hair with my free arm. “I’m just curious about you. Us being reunited like this feels too big to be a coincidence. But I don’t particularly believe in fate.”

“So what do you believe?”

“I asked you first.”

She takes a deep breath. “Fate and I are kind of at odds right now. My father died this year, and I’m trying to come to terms with why He would take my father away. It was too early. He was barely fifty.”

She rubs her arm, and seems to tighten at the mention of her father. I hold her tighter, pulling her into me.

“I’m so sorry to hear that, Brett.” I kiss her on the forehead.

“It’s okay,” she frowns. “I’m still processing it, though. I want to do right by him. It’s why I didn’t sell you the property.”

“Because it reminds you of him?”

“He loved that damn house so much. His Dad--my grandfather--built it himself. I just can’t part with it. Maybe some day. But not yet.”

She smiles a little, and rests her chin on my shoulder, sitting up. “My father always told me to go after my dream. He worked hard so I could go to college, but I never got to finish.”

She exhales deeply, blowing the air out of her lips like she’s blowing out stress. Her eyes glassy, she looks off into the distance. For a moment, she closes her eyes and I swear I can feel her holding back tears.

“That’s tough. Was going to college your dream?”

“It was for a while. But it was also my dream not to be in debt. So part of me gave up a little bit on that dream. And now--”

“You’re just trying to live out your dream through writing a romance novel.” I say, giving her the best shit eating grin I can muster, trying to cheer her up a little.

“Stop it. You mean working for you, who for some reason thought I would be a good employee even though I have zero qualifications.”

My arms still wrapped around her, I draw her into me on the couch. I love the feel of her flesh on mine. “You stop it. You have plenty of qualifications. You haven’t even been on the job for a month and you’re crushing it. Hell,” I chuckle. “You’re writing a damn romance novel on company time, and you’re still more efficient than half my staff. And I’ve read it, Brett. It’s fucking good.”

She arches an eyebrow my way, her face so close I can feel her breath. “You’re just saying that.”

I shrug. “I’ll admit I’ve never read a romance novel before. But I think it’s fucking gold. It’s got potential.”

“I just wonder how it’ll turn out in the end,” she breathes, her mouth inches from mine.

I can’t resist giving her a long, slow kiss. I nibble on her lower lip as I let go.

“You’re the author. Don’t you get to decide how it ends?”

The thunder booms loudly right outside, and she flinches, but I steady her.

“I have to let the characters tell me what they want to do,” she smiles, and then sits back on the couch, grabbing her drink. “So this fantasy thing we’re doing. We’re going to play one for me, and then one for you? Like I’ll be Lacy, and you’ll be Zane.”

“I can be Zane. I always wished my name began with a ‘Z’ anyway.”

“Alright. And you’ll write something, then I’ll write something. So we’ll kind of cowrite the book.”

I smile. “Of all the jobs I’ve had, I never thought I’d be cowriting a romance novel. I don’t want any of the credit though, obviously. Just call me your secret ghostwriter. Deal?”

“Deal.”

We shake on it.

This is going to be so much more than I bargained for when I hired her.