Page 91 of Boss of the Year

I tipped my head and looked at him, as if I could identify the things he was describing on his face. “Nope, don’t see it.”

He huffed. “Marie…”

“I mean, I’m sure all of that is true, but I don’t think any of it makes you old. I obviously don’t get prostate exams, but women get a speculum up our hoo-ha every three years from the time we’re teenagers, so I think we win that round. I’ve also probably twisted my ankle five times because I never exercise, not because I’m a crone. And, well, obviously the bagels have to be from Russ and Daughters or else they’re just crap.”

That earned me a distinct quirk on one side of his mouth.

“When I look at you, I don’t see old or young or really anything with age,” I went on. “I just see Lucas. I see a man. A very attractive man, since we’re busy paying compliments—don’t give me that look, you just bragged about your abs of steel, sir. Any woman would be lucky to have you. Or, um, kiss you. Whether it’s part of a message or not.”

I’d finally stunned him. His stormy gaze fell squarely to my mouth.

“Well, then,” he murmured. “I suppose that’s that.”

We sat in silence after my little rant, the steam rising around us like a cocoon that separated the ryokan from the rest of the world. It was one of my favorite things about Lucas: that he didn’t have to fill every quiet moment with words, unlike the rest of my loud, chaotic family.

There was peace in just being near him, in sharing this time without expectations or demands.

Eventually, the water felt a little too hot, and we both seemed to realize at the same time that we should probably get out before we turned into prunes.

“I’ll, ah, close my eyes,” Lucas said, though I caught him peeking slightly as I moved toward the edge.

I cast a quick smile over my shoulder. “Promise?”

“On my honor.” He threw a chiseled arm over his eyes like a cartoon character falling onto a fainting couch.

I giggled, which turned into an all-out laugh when he grinned under his forearm.

“Okay, I’m decent.” I tied my robe around my waist. “You can get out too. I won’t peek either.”

“Pretty sure you saw everything already anyway.”

I didn’t argue. He didn’t seem to mind.

After he was out and wrapped in his own robe, we stood under the pagoda, the unspoken question of “What’s next?” lingering between us.

“So…same time tomorrow?” Lucas asked with a curious, hopeful expression.

It made him look about sixteen.

Or maybe twenty-six.

Or forty-one.

Who was counting anyway?

“It’s a date.”

19

SENCHA GREEN TEA

*thirty seconds to steep or else it turns bitter.

The sun cast a golden glow through the rice paper screen when I pressed a button in the kitchen, then took a sip of green tea while I waited for Lucas’s smoothie to blend. The sencha was just the thing to take the edge off the morning when I hadn’t slept well. I had instead spent half the night waking from dreams of a broad, kind mouth traveling down my body, with silver-tinted stubble that rubbed my skin in the most delicious ways.

Every time, I woke with my heart beating and the space between my legs throbbing, followed by a sudden shock of guilt when I realized I was having erotic dreams about the wrong person.

I closed my eyes as I took a sip of the smooth green blend from Shizuoka. Yeah, I’d be bringing some of this home with me for my personal stash, along with the supply of matcha I’d found at the market with Robbie. Japan was changing my entire palate.