Keir

Rowan stands over the stove Monday evening, sautéing vegetables, a glass of white wine in her hand. She’s been quiet today, which is unusual seeing how the weekend was almost fucking magical.

For two full days, Rowan and I lived in the moment. We fished in my great grandfather’s lake. We swam naked. And at night, we watched the stars from the dock. I’ve never taken a woman to the cabin before. Most of the ones I’ve spent time with have preferred five star restaurants and Manhattan penthouse suites to the great outdoors.

But not Rowan.

She’s down to earth, laid back, and probably the easiest person I’ve ever had to be around.

The entire weekend she went with the flow—when she wasn’t jumping my bones. Girl’s got a serious lumberjack fetish that came out of absolutely nowhere.

But there’s something different about her.

She hasn’t been overly clingy lately. She hasn’t been committing every relationship faux pas in the book like she’d been doing the last couple of weeks. It’s almost as if she’s detaching herself from me, and I’ve spent the better part of today replaying the weekend and asking myself if it was something I said or something I did to make her pull away.

I’ve got nothing.

“Smells amazing,” I say from my favorite chair.

She doesn’t hear me. It’s like she’s in her own little world.

Checking my phone while I wait for dinner, I find a new email from Connor.

To: [email protected]bluemail.com

From: [email protected]policonsult.com

Subject: You’ve been quiet lately …

Hey. Haven’t heard from you in days. Just checking in to see how it’s going with her? We’ve had to move up the announcement thanks to Dick McDickwad. Is she on board with everything yet? Does she know you’re running against her ex?

Glancing up, I see Rowan’s still busy in the kitchen, and I tap out a quick reply.

From: [email protected]bluemail.com

To: [email protected]policonsult.com

Subject: Re: You’ve been quiet lately …

First of all, why don’t you text me like a normal person? Second of all, things are going well, but no, I haven’t had a chance to tell her yet. Waiting for the right time. Will keep you posted.

To be honest, I’ve been dreading having to tell her. She mentioned over the weekend that she couldn’t imagine living her life chained to a team of Secret Service agents, rambling on about how she needed her privacy to stay sane.

Guess that was the one thing Connor’s team didn’t do their research on when they found her.

She wants nothing to do with the spotlight.

“Dinner’s ready,” Rowan calls from the kitchen, carrying plates to the dining table.

I meet her there, topping off our wine chalice and taking a seat across from her, separated by flickering candles.

It’s funny how a couple of months ago, a quiet night at home would’ve been pure torture.

Now it’s kind of nice.

And I haven’t so much as thought about Goldsmith or my usual haunts.

“Looks amazing,” I say, digging in. It’s only when I’m halfway finished that I realize she hasn’t touched hers at all.

Placing my fork aside, I dab my mouth with a linen napkin and clear my throat. “Rowan, what is it? You’ve been—”

“I got the job.” Her eyes lift onto mine. “The consultant position with Calloway Corp.”

Fuck.

“Are you going to take it?” I ask.

“I want to,” she says. “Out of all the jobs I applied for, this is the one I wanted most. But …”

Her voices trails off and she glances down into her lap. This isn’t like her.

“But what?” I ask. I’d be lying if I said a small part of me hoped that “but” has everything to do with me.

“I’m still thinking about it. I asked him to give me a couple of weeks to decide.”

“And he’s going to do that?”

She nods, reaching for her wine. “He said he would, yes.”

“That’s great.” And it is. This buys me more time to convince her not to take it.

“I’d be leaving DC,” she says, as if I didn’t already know. She told me about this position weeks ago, one night when we were lying naked in bed, basking in our post-orgasmic highs. She rattled on about how she wanted to travel the country, spend a little time here, spend a little time there. Her face lit when she spoke about it.

Folding my napkin and placing it next to my plate, I’ve lost my appetite. If all of this has been for nothing …

Rising, I make my way around the table, going to her, pulling her into my arms.

“Try not to think about it too much,” I say. “Two weeks is plenty of time to decide what you want to do.”

For a moment I hold her, and I imagine how it would feel if she left and never came back. Just the thought of all of this going away leaves a cannon-sized void in my chest, rendering me almost breathless.

Lowering my mouth to hers, I breathe her in and hold her in my arms. The fact that this decision is already weighing so heavy on her is a good sign in my favor. All this time today, her silence and moping had to do with this … having to choose her career or me.

And here I thought she was losing interest when it was quite the opposite.

Rowan likes me.

Just like I knew she would.

And I have two weeks to show to her the feeling is mutual, which shouldn’t be hard because, goddamn it, it is.