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How bad a coworker had Cherish been that Haylee would doubt her? Then again, before today, Cherish wouldn’t have thought twice about taking the credit. Clenching her jaw, Cherish pressed two fingers into her temple and closed her eyes against the fluorescent lighting. Why did this migraine seem to come out of nowhere?

“Cherish.” Haylee’s voice was so soft—endearingly sweet.

The warm hand against Cherish’s shoulder startled her. Haylee leaned against the edge of her desk, and when Cherish looked up into her eyes, they were filled with pure concern.

“What’s wrong?” Haylee’s thumb pressed into Cherish’s collar bone and slid along the skin, sending sparks of pleasure through Cherish.

Cherish closed her eyes and bit the inside of her cheek. What was happening to her? For years she had wanted Febe to look at her like that. To touch her like this. To sit next to her on the desk and talk, really talk, not about work but about life. And now it was Haylee doing it?

“What really interested you about her?”

“About who?” Haylee choked.

Cherish swallowed hard and leaned back in her chair, breaking contact with Haylee’s touch. With that small amount of distance between them, she was far more on her feet and ready for this conversation. “About the woman Febe just hired.”

“Oh.” Haylee’s cheeks reddened. “She’s a military brat, so she works with the military often.”

Nodding, Cherish ran her clammy palms against her thighs. When had that happened? And why? She searched Haylee’s face for any sign of worry or fear, but she only found honesty. “Are you trying to build your empire without Ms. Aarts knowing?”

“No.” Haylee shook her head. “She’s a good fit to work here.”

“She is, but I’m sure there are a lot of other candidates out there. So why her?”

“Why not?” Haylee’s voice got louder. “Why are you pushing this so much?”

“Because I want to know.” Did she? Or was it a feeble excuse not to have to think about the echoing ghost of Haylee’s fingers against her skin, walking along her flesh. “Why are you so dead set on making veterans a priority here? We’ve never done that before.”

“Never doesn’t mean you won’t.”

“It doesn’t,” Cherish agreed, because what else was she supposed to say? It wasn’t that Febe was opposed to the idea, but she didn’t feel as though Haylee had enough passion to really stick it through. And with her work history—Haylee wasn’t someone who committed long term to anything. Cherish had to remind herself of that. She wasn’t sure why, but she knew it was something she needed to pay close attention to. “So what are you doing bringing her in here?”

“She’s a good fit for us.”

Us?

“She works hard, and I like her spunk. Febe does, too.”

“Ms. Aarts,” Cherish corrected automatically. “If you want Ms. Aarts to pay attention to your idea to focus on veterans, then you need to show her why you care. Because from where I’m sitting, I still don’t understand why.”

“I do care.” Haylee pulled that lip between her teeth again.

Cherish wanted to hold her hand, soothe the ruffled feathers she knew she had just caused, but she held still. She put up the cold, icy front she knew she needed to protect herself, and she looked Haylee directly in the eye. But that hard exterior didn’t quite mask the softness of her insides, not when Haylee looked so crestfallen.

“My brother’s best friend was in the military. I remember when he went in right after high school—I wrote him letters every week when he was in basic. I even baked him cookies and mailed them.”

“Some would call that nothing more than a mere crush.” Cherish reached for the mouse to her computer and flicked it so the screen would come alive again. She didn’t have time to sit and listen to the story Haylee wove. She needed facts and passion, that was it. Wasn’t it?

“Yeah, it wasn’t a crush. I’m firmly in the women-only camp.” Haylee let out a loud chuckle. “But Jackson thought it was a crush for a while there.”

“Jackson is your brother, right?” Cherish asked, clarifying who the players in the story were.

“Yep.” Haylee leaned back on the edge of the desk, her thigh brushing Cherish’s arm. Again, a shiver of pleasure rushed through Cherish’s body, settling in the pit of her stomach. That had to stop. Immediately.

“A crush isn’t going to sway Ms. Aarts in her decision.”

“I know it won’t. And it wasn’t a crush,” Haylee insisted. She sighed heavily. “Do you think she’ll ever listen to me? I mean like she listens to you, because ultimately, I’m not entirely sure that Ms. Aarts listens to anyone.”

That was true. Well, as true as Cherish knew. She’d tried for years to tell Febe that she needed to get her own individual therapist, that she should take some time off to deal with her grief and struggles. But Febe had always rolled her eyes and ignored the comment like Cherish hadn’t said the words out loud. That had stung. Every time. Because all Cherish wanted was the best for Febe. She wanted her not to be hurting, and that hint of a smile that day had been that. Hadn’t it?