Smart Girl by Rachel Hollis

actually get.” The fingers he’s been drumming restlessly on the desk stop moving. “And starting as the lowest peon at one of the most cutthroat agencies in the world is the perfect job for a slacker. And that transfer wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that Barker-Ash doesn’t hire for entry-level positions? Anyone who applies here has to have experience, even if your last name is written on the wall. And the eight venues you’ve launched and made profitable—that was all just a result of your charm? Dude. You work endlessly. You’re professional and smart and great at your job—”
    His eyes narrow. This is getting way too close to a real conversation.
    “Did you learn all that on Google as well?”
    I shake my head. “I don’t need Google. I know you already.”
    We stare at each other, brown eyes clashing against blue gray. That feeling that’s always there between us grows and intensifies until I think I might vibrate out of my skin. His mouth looks sharp and angry. I don’t know when my eyes drifted there, but I imagine for the thousandth time what it would feel like to kiss that tension away. His harsh tone shatters the moment.
    “This isn’t going to happen.”
    My eyes fly back up to his. There’s total conviction written onto every one of his features. I can’t believe he said it. I can’t believe he acknowledged there was anything to happen . I should take a minute to revel in the fact that he’s admitting to anything, but I’m too focused on what he said, and all I can think about is why. Why can’t this happen?
    I don’t realize that I’ve asked the question until he responds.
    “You want the truth?”
    My surprise at his sudden willingness to be honest doesn’t make me hesitate long.
    “Always.”
    He considers me, and whatever he sees in my face must be enough of a reassurance, because after nearly a year of dancing around it, the truth is exactly what he gives me.
    “You’re gorgeous, Miko.” The little smile he delivers that line with is so sweet I feel like we’re millimeters apart instead of sitting across a desk from each other. “Do you think I don’t notice how gorgeous you are? You’re also young and naive—five years and a lifetime away from where I am. You’re a family friend and, as of a couple of weeks ago, a business associate. Do you think I don’t see the way you look at me?” He leans across the desk and points at my tie. “Do you think I’m not imagining at least eight different ways I could use this tie on you? Do you think I don’t know that forcing my imagination is why you wore it in the first place?”
    There’s no moisture in my mouth. Literally none. The entire thing is a dry desert choking off all words and giving heat stroke to any clever response.
    “You’ve always been kind to me,” he says meaningfully. “You’re also beautiful and so wonderfully weird.” He grins slowly. “And I’m curious to know what that combination is like in a more intimate setting. But I don’t do relationships. It might sound cliché or trite, but that doesn’t make it any less true. My professional life is difficult and demanding, so I keep my personal life easy and laid back. Anything with you would be far too complicated, and complicated doesn’t interest me at all.”
    I think I blink at him—I can’t be sure. As if summoned, Stella taps on the door and enters to remind him of his next meeting. He stands and I jump up too, suddenly unsure of where to put my hands or how to gracefully lift my bag up off the ground. I must knock it into three separate things on its short four-foot vertical climb from the floor to my shoulder.
    “We’ll have to review the layout another time,” he tells me, sounding for all the world like we haven’t discussed anything more interesting than an RFP.
    “Yep,” I tell him on my way out the door.
    Once I make it down the hallway and into the relative safety of an empty elevator, I sigh despondently. Gods, I