Why don't you Stay ... Forever - Jennifer Ashley Page 0,1

to take over the lead on Saturday night. I’m so nervous, and I figured I might as well use the time to …”

“Hey.” Boldly I lift my fingers and rest them over her mouth as she babbles. “I said it’s okay.”

We both freeze. Her breath is warm on my fingers, and my extremities start recovering enough to react.

Erin takes a quick step back, her face beet red. I’m torn between sitting in misery or reaching for her again.

But the last thing I want is her running to the head of HR and saying I engaged in inappropriate touching. Especially since the head of HR is my mom.

Erin stars gathering up her stuff—phone, gym bag, paper wrapping that once held her lunch. Her movements are jerky and quick, the complete opposite of the grace that flowed in her dance.

“Are you okay?” I ask. “You whacked me pretty good. Did you hurt your foot?”

Erin sticks it out, her legs bare from the shins down, soft ballet slippers cupping her feet. She rotates the foot in question, flexing it and her ankle.

“Fine I think. I’ll just go back to work.”

“Hang on a sec.” I climb to my feet, my balls still throbbing, but the ache is lessening. She’d pulled her kick at the last minute, which made me not want to think about how I’d feel right now if she hadn’t.

Erin tosses out her trash. “I’m really, really sorry, Ben. I shouldn’t have been using the break room for my personal time …”

“Why not? Everyone else does. Austin brought friends in here to sing karaoke one night. Long time ago. He still hasn’t lived it down.”

“I’m just … I don’t want to lose this job …”

I step in front of her as she tries to hightail it out the door. I’ve been thrown together with this woman for weeks now, as I’m the only one who can train her in our tech and software systems. When she has a problem, she comes straight to me.

I love being her geek-in-shining armor, but we never talk about anything other than how to use the new software I’ve been working on. Not real talking, as in I want to know everything about her.

“You think I’ll ask Mom to fire you because you kicked me in the nuts?” I grin to myself as I picture the look on my mother’s face. “She’d make it all my fault anyway. She likes you.”

Erin’s mouth droops. “I feel terrible.”

I can’t take Erin’s sad eyes as she snatches up her glasses and shoves them on. I want to put my arms around her and comfort her. Maybe hold on a while longer, for more than comfort.

“It was a stupid accident. I’m fine. Really.” I gyrate my hips to show her, hoping to make her laugh.

I’m rewarded with a faint smile, and I reflect that this is the most natural conversation we’ve ever had. Mostly I can barely open my mouth except for IT talk, and she says, Yes, Sure, I understand, and Thank you.

Erin wets her lips, which zings my attention straight to them. Full, sweet, red lips … “Tell you what,” she’s saying. “Would you like to come to the performance Saturday night? I can give you some tickets … Unless, well, it’s ballet, and not everyone’s interest—”

“Sounds great. Thanks.” I dive into her flow of words. Would I like to sit and watch Erin in a leotard, or whatever they’re called, float around a stage, moving her body in ways that will make my dreams seriously interesting? Hell yes.

“Really?” Erin’s surprise is amusing.

“Really.” Yes, the IT guy with the Star Wars poster and signed photo with Levar Burton in his cubicle is interested in watching ballet. At least ballet with Erin in it.

“Great. I’ll get it fixed up.” She hesitates. “Would your brothers like to come? Or your parents?”

“My brothers? I doubt it.” I shake my head. “Ryan and Calandra are busy being newlyweds, and Abby and Zach are getting ready to be. Notice how both those couples went home for lunch?”

Erin’s sudden smile is like sunshine. “I know. They think they’re being discreet. It’s adorable.”

Aw, she thinks my brothers and the loves of their lives are adorable. That bodes well.

“And Austin—he’s just … busy.”

I have no idea what Austin will be up to Saturday night, and I don’t care. I just know I won’t want him there.

“Your mom and dad?”

“I’ll ask them.” I really want this to be just Erin and me, but I need to be polite.