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Remembering a time when my dad sat Nick and me down for a heart-to-heart, I didn’t understand what he meant back then. Now I do and say the one thing he told us to say if a woman is ever mad at us. “I’m sorry.” It doesn’t matter what we did or didn’t do. Take the blame, pay the price, but always apologize.

Juni drags her hand down the side of her hair, taming flyaway strands, but the puzzled expression aimed at me is unmistakable—narrowed eyes and pushed-together brows form a little line in the middle. “Why are you sorry?”

“For upsetting you.”

“I’m not upset.” The scowl on her face tells me otherwise.

Scratching my head, I stand there watching her walk toward the door. I’m so lost that I don’t think I can get this train back on track when it comes to her, but I’ll make the effort and follow her.

Juni and Gil are whispering when I approach. Gil clears his throat and holds the door open wider for us to enter. They’re both acting weird.

Once inside, we head for the elevators as Gil sits down behind the desk. He turns up the volume on what sounds like a Dodgers game. Names of some of the hometown players are called out and up to bat. I ask, “Who’s winning?”

His gaze stretches across the lobby, and he eyes Juni. “Apparently, not me.”

“Huh?” I’ve never seen him like this. He’s usually so happy-go-lucky, but I guess we all have our off days. Fortunately, the button has been pushed to call the elevator because this is getting uncomfortable.

“It’s not looking good for the Dodgers,” he replies after a delay, glancing down at the screen propped on his desk.

Trying to lighten the mood, I laugh. I’m a terrible actor, but I stick with it. “No surprise. They’re always the underdog. Makes it more exciting to root for them.”

The elevator door opens, and just before Juni steps inside, she looks back at Gil, who’s ripping a bite of a pink donut off like a bear ripping its prey apart. The door closes, and she says, “He seems nice.”

He seemed out of character to me, but Gil is not who I want to be thinking about right now. Wanting to forget about whatever that was and focus on more interesting riddles to unravel, I slide my arm around her middle. Unlike in the elevator at work, I don’t have to hide how she turns me on this time. Rubbing my thumb along the curve of her waist, I ask, “How are you feeling?”

“Good.”

Still not sounding like herself, I press for more, “Is something wrong?” Dipping my head down, I nuzzle the top of her head. Closing my eyes, I take in the feel of her. This is the closest we’ve ever been, and right now, I don’t want to think about anything other than kissing her as soon as we reach the apartment. Though her smelling of flowers on a spring day has me tempted to do it now. I lower my gaze until I meet hers. “Good is unlike the great Juni Jacobs I know.”

Her gentle laughter rattles her shoulders, and she angles my way, bringing us closer. “I’m great because I’m with you.” Her hand runs along my lower back, and she asks, “How are you?”

Nervous.

Excited.

Not knowing what comes next.

I’m always in control of every aspect of my life, so I’m not used to letting things play out organically. Before I have time to collect my thoughts, she adds, “You’re from California. Aren’t you supposed to be more laid-back, all love and going with the flow?”

“Have we met?” I volley.

Her laughter erupts and entices me to cut myself some slack. I don’t have to be so serious all the time. My job is just that—my job. It’s time to show her who I really am. And as the laughter dies down, I note that it’s easier to breathe as I relax. My lungs feel like the vise has released them, and my shoulders are lighter.

I like Juni. I like her energy and enthusiasm, but I envy her freedom. I want a taste of that good life where I can be 100% me. And Juni’s the one I want beside me.

Alcohol isn’t controlling this night, so fuck timelines and old-fashioned dating conventions. I know her, and I want to be a part of her crazy schemes and late-night escapades. I want to get coffee on the way to work with her and sit together on the couch in the evenings talking about our day.

Is this premature? Maybe, but I’m willing to take the chance tonight to see where it leads me.

Taking her hand in mine, I spin her away and then bring her in again, keeping my arms wrapped around her this time. We’ve known each other a few weeks, so why have we been fighting our attraction? Holding her in my arms feels like this is how it should have always been. I’m not going as far as to say it’s kismet or destiny, but I’ll give fate a little nod of appreciation.

Although I know we’re most likely headed to bed, I want more than sex with this woman. I want to be her date because she wants me there, not just as a bargaining chip. Next time she has a function to attend, I want her to ask me because I’m her person. Nothing more to it.

I can only be so fucking lucky.

She asks, “Are you going to open the door?”

“Huh?” I look at the door in front of me, too lost in my thoughts as we walked. “Oh, yeah. Sorry. Caught up in my head.”