#Chapter 29: The Secretary
Abby

I get off at my stop and walk over to the restaurant. Just my luck. Karl is already standing outside with

my daily coffee in hand.

I take it from him, unable to meet his gaze. Partly from anger, partly from embarrassment. If he only

knew what I dreamed of last night. Knowing him, he’d probably love it. Then he’d suggest we make it

reality. And honestly, after my failed attempt with Adam last night, I’m not sure if I would refuse.

“I hate him,” I think to myself, indiscernibly shaking my head slightly and avoiding his gaze. “Don’t even

think about it. It was just a w et dre am, and nothing else. Those dreams can happen with anybody.”

Almost as though he’s reading my mind, Karl gives me a curious look, and I feel warmth rush to my

cheeks. His hair is the same as it was then, and the wind blows long strands of it down across his

forehead. I can almost see my fingers gripping on to it. The corner of his mouth twitches, but he doesn’t

smile.

“You, okay?” he asks. I force myself to look away.

“Fine,” I snap, letting the door fall shut behind me. He puts out a hand to stop it and follows me further

into the restaurant.

“You sure? You’re acting a little funny.”

“I said I’m fine.”

I stomp across the dining room and shove my way into the kitchen. I can hear him trailing after me, but

he keeps his distance, thank G od.

I close my office door and sink into my chair. What has gotten into me? One s tupid dream, and now I’m

embarrassed to talk to him. What am I, a twelve-year-old girl? He’s my ex-husband, and he hurt me.

Badly. He’s an as s hole. A manipulator. A male chauvinist. He’s… s exy. He knows me. He’s good in

bed.

I have to shake my head again to dispel the thoughts. Now isn’t the time to be giggling like an idiot

because I had one sex dream about him. And besides, I’m probably just misremembering what sex

with him was really like. It couldn’t have been that good… right?

Right. He’s awful.

I repeat it over and over until I’ve managed to shove the dream from my mind. I will not let my

subconscious trick me into letting him off the h ook. Good in bed or not, he’s got some serious groveling

enough. No, it’ll never

together with my ex. Not now,

especially frantic, and it helps me shove thoughts of that

nights, the rush doesn’t

chicken breast, and I cut it into strips. Part of prepping the

helping me with it tonight. I have him

lot slower than me, he’s

setting things up in the dining room

Karl just can’t stop himself from ordering Ethan around, even

if that little pri ck tries to boss me around one more time…” Ethan had been

redder than I had

glance at Karl’s

him.”

Ethan’s voice was harsher than I

softened a bit, and passed a hand over his weary face.

at you. He just pis ses me

it. I promise Karl won’t be

Karl is faster with the knife

have him mopping floors and setting tables, but I

my turn to take Karl off of their hands, like a babysitter tasked

handling an unruly toddler.

he says, flashing me a grin. He wipes a stack

“I do what I

answering grin. Last

of the many things I’ve been mulling over.

not fair to Adam that I fell asleep thinking about Karl and not him. Adam did

got a bit too drunk. We all do sometimes.

long ago.

asks as he grabs another carrot. He really is taking

to keep

There’s no way I’m sharing any of my worries with him. There’s especially no

our old sex life. As far as

him at all.

“Nothing interesting.”

“I seriously doubt that.”

with me, Karl. It won’t do

eyelashes slightly.

carrots. And hurry up; you’re slower than molas

thing, grandma,” Karl

mouth turns up a little. I can tell he wants to smile, but he’s doing what he can

avoid it.

take for granted how often he smiles around me.

see that side of him. He has to be the tough, no-nonsense

must

staring,” he says.

resume my task. Maybe getting us alone together wasn’t

the bar setting everything up.

the breakroom getting changed.

was staring,” I say. “I

on his chiseled jaw and warm brown eyes. I

like Karl. If he cares about you, he can make you

world with just

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