I shove my phone in my bag and hurry from my home. I turn to lock the door behind me when I hear a noise from the front stoop.

I spin around, my heart pounding and hands shaking when I see a man loom before me. I slide the keys between my fingers in a pathetic attempt of brass knuckles. Recognition only takes a split second to flare along with relief I don't have to fend off an attacker.

"Scott!" I exclaim, trying not to show the rush of warmth flowing through me, replacing the fear at the sight of his familiar, handsome face. "You scared me. Why are you here? I'm leaving. I'll call you later." I move to sweep past him, nose in the air.

I'm nowhere near ready to forgive and forget. No matter how secretly glad I am to see him.

"Don't," he says, holding out a bouquet of flowers and a purple apron, halting my dramatic exit.

My forehead wrinkles with confusion as I pause with my foot above the step. "Ummm..." What the hell is going on?

"Hear me out." His blue eyes plead with me.

Confusion overrides the hurt and anger. "What are you doing?" The flowers, okay. A good start to an apology. The apron? I don't get it. I already have a red one clenched in my hands. This better not be some weird make-up gift. Because if so, worst ever.

He takes a tentative step forward. "I want you to listen to me for a little while."

Red fury rages through me. He can't come here with flowers and an—an apron right before I'm due for work and for my final list item. I don't care why he's here. I don't have time for this. I almost shove him right off my stoop. "What the FUCK. Hell no. I'm not listening to a word you have to say. You've been a complete dick, and I'm sorry that you found your hard line in the sand when my fun was just TOO MUCH for you, and turns out being so close to another dick was intimidating, which is DUMB, because yours is way bigger than his anyways and you work it better, not to mention you had to actually teach Brennan Jones how to go down on a girl properly because he had no clue what he was doing, but still fuck you for leaving me, and--"

He interrupts me. "I want to hire you."

His words hardly sink in and I shrug them off, uninterested in his explanations. I'm not remotely done telling him off. I shake my head. "Scott, shut up. I--"

He interrupts me again, desperation tinging his voice. "I want to be your boss, Amanda. And I want to be your professor."

My mouth falls open and my brow furrows as my pulse skitters before resuming its hard pounding. What? He wants to be my boss and professor? What does that even mean? What the fuck is he thinking showing up here, making me late for work, all to just speak cryptically on my doorstep? He can be so infuriating when he gets like this. Speaking in metaphors and innuendos. He knows I don't like meaningless words, I like hard facts and actions.

I close my mouth with a snap, determined to just shove by him and go to work. This can wait, and I'm too upset and pissed right now to be able to have any form of a calm conversation. He knows full well I was planning on seducing my boss today. He doesn't get to just disappear on me for a week, and then come here and make me late for work by offering to hire me. He doesn't get to—oh.

The anger fades away, clearing my head, turning into something else as I finally start to catch on. He knows me. And that's why he's here, holding out a fucking apron and flowers. He knows I need actions.

And this is a romance novel level grand gesture.

Scott isn’t trying to make up our friendship. He’s declaring his love.

I gasp at the feeling that swells my heart. It both surprises me and yet it doesn't. Because Scott HAS always been in my heart, I just never opened up enough to let him all the way in. I was scared it would fuck up our friendship.

This entire time as I towed him along on my adventure, it was my biggest worry. I couldn't afford to lose him or fuck things up with him. He's my best friend and losing him would break me. Besides, he hadn't been interested anyway.

Or had he? Have I misunderstood him this whole time? Is this what I wanted? What he really wanted? We should talk this out and make sure it's what we want. Right? I can't just jump into this. For just one second, I imagine being with Scott the way I was once with Adam. I imagine the differences, vast as an ocean.

If I said yes, would it ruin everything?

His eyes are soft and flutter with terror as he stares at me, shifting from foot to foot. "I want to be your football champion and your celebrity and your stranger and every other thing you can come up with. Let me be that for you."

Or would I gain everything I ever wanted?

Tears prick at my eyes. I need to touch him, make sure he's real. "Scott!" I run to him, heaving myself at him and kiss him hard. "Look, I-I want to talk about this, but I really am due at--"

He cuts me off with a swift, but passionate kiss. "Yeah, I kind of called you in sick already." He offers me the apron again as I giggle. A strange giddiness bubbles up inside me. I'm reckless now, and determined to throw myself right off the deep end.

Scott smiles, relief filling his voice, washing away the worry on his face. "So, I'm serious. Let me hire you. The cup of coffee I ask for must be made exactly the way I want it, or you won't get paid." His voice changes from relief and fills with dark desire.

My humor fades into arousal--he's going to play boss for me? Hot.

I grab the apron and tug him back inside, locking the door behind us.