Page 13 of Most Likely to Deny Love (Yearbook #2)

JACK

T he bright fluorescents of the conference room cast harsh shadows across the table where Mia and I had been working for the fourth night in a row.

Papers and spreadsheets covered nearly every inch of the polished surface, alongside empty coffee cups and takeout containers.

Darkness had settled over the business park hours ago.

I glanced up from my laptop, my eyes immediately drawn to Mia.

She was hunched over a stack of printouts, her dark hair falling forward to partially obscure her face.

Even so, I could see the pallor of her skin, the tight set of her mouth as she worked.

The circles under her eyes had darkened since Monday, and her movements had grown slower, less precise.

“Are you okay?” I asked, keeping my voice casual.

She didn’t look up. “I’m fine.”

Her tone made it clear she wasn’t interested in elaborating. A small crease appeared between her brows as she continued highlighting sections of the report in front of her.

“You look tired.” The words slipped before I had the chance to consider them.

Mia’s head snapped up, gray eyes narrowing. “I said I’m fine.”

Tension crackled between us, and I mentally kicked myself. Four nights of working closely together had created a strange intimacy, but apparently not enough for her to welcome my concern. Not that I blamed her. I was her boss, not her friend, after all.

“We could finish this tomorrow,” I offered, even though my project timeline screamed otherwise.

“I can handle it.” Her voice had an edge that hadn’t been there earlier in the week. Something was definitely off.

Before I could press further, my phone lit up, vibrating against the table with an incoming call. My mother’s name flashed on the screen, and I felt my jaw tighten instinctively. I pressed the end call button without a second thought.

Barely five seconds passed before it rang again. Same caller.

Fuck. I huffed out a frustrated sigh, my patience already paper-thin. “I need to take this,” I said to Mia, who had raised an eyebrow at my obvious annoyance. “Won’t be long.”

Without waiting for her response, I stood and moved toward the door, answering as I stepped into the hallway.

“Mom.” I kept my voice low, glancing back through the glass to where Mia had returned to her paperwork, shoulders still rigid with whatever tension she was carrying tonight.

“Jack, darling.” The artificial brightness of her tone grated on my nerves. “How are you?”

“Fine.” I leaned against the wall, keeping my tone neutral. “What do you need?”

“A nicer greeting than that for your only mother, but I expect nothing less.”

Squeezing my eyes shut, I gritted my teeth, biting back the retort I knew would only cause more drama.

“Anyway, I just thought you should know that your grandmother had to go to the hospital today.”

My heart seized. “What? Is she okay? What happened?” The words tumbled out in a rush, my free hand clenching into a fist.

“Oh, calm down.” She tittered as if my concern was an overreaction. “She had some dizziness, that’s all, and nearly fainted. They’re keeping her overnight, for observation, but she’s fine.”

I exhaled slowly, my pulse gradually returning to normal. “You could have led with that.”

“Although,” my mother continued, her voice taking on that familiar judgmental edge, “she really should learn to slow down, at her age. She was at a bar, Jack. With a younger man.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling a headache building. “Younger? As in, seventy?”

“This isn’t funny.” Her voice sharpened. “The woman is eighty-seven years old. She needs to act her age.”

“No, she needs to live her life,” I countered, straightening up. “If she wants to go out bar hopping, that’s her business.”

“Jack, really?—”

“I need to go, Mom. I’ll call her myself.”

I ended the call before she could respond, immediately scrolling to my grandmother’s contact.

“Jack!” Nan’s voice came through, strong and clear without a hint of frailty. “Well, well, well. I see it only takes a minor hospitalization to get my grandson to call.”

Something in my chest loosened at the familiar teasing lilt in her voice. “Nan, I rang you two days ago.”

“Did you? My memory must be going.” Her laugh was bright and infectious. “And here your mother had me thinking you were too busy with that fancy executive job to remember your old grandmother.”

“Never too busy for you.” I moved farther down the hallway, lowering my voice. “Are you really okay? Mom said something about dizziness.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” She sighed dramatically. “I got a little lightheaded at swing dancing, and suddenly everyone’s acting like I’m at death’s door. I’m perfectly fine.”

“Swing dancing?” I couldn’t help but grin at the image.

“With Henry from across the street.” There was a distinctly smug note in her voice. “He’s only seventy-three, you know. Your mother nearly had an aneurysm when she found out.”

“I bet she did.” I ran a hand through my hair. “You’re sure you’re alright?”

“Fit as a fiddle and twice as loud,” Nan assured me. “Now, are you okay? You sound stressed.”

“I’m fine,” I said automatically.

“Humph. I doubt that. Tell me what’s going on.”

“Nothing, Nan. I promise. Just work stuff.”

She made a soft noise that told me she didn’t quite believe me but wouldn’t push further. “You should come visit soon. I haven’t seen you in forever.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. “I’ll try.”

There was a beat of fraught silence before she said, “Maybe I can come to you.”

Nan knew, better than anyone alive, how hard it was for me to go home. And that while ever she lived so close to my parents, seeing her was far from easy for me. Still, “No, you’re not well. I’ll come to you.”

“Pshaw. I said it’s just a little dizziness, didn’t I? Anyway, we can talk about it later. Henry’s on his way up to visit, so I’ve got to go.”

“Take care of yourself,” I cautioned, unable to help myself.

“Always do, darling. Love you.”

“Love you too, Nan.”

She ended the call before I could say anything else.

I slipped my phone back into my pocket, dragging in a breath to ease some of the tension in my shoulders.

Then I headed back to the conference room, mentally rehearsing an apology to Mia for the interruption.

But when I pushed open the door, the words died on my lips.

Mia was asleep.

Her head rested on her folded arms, dark hair spilling across the table like ink. Her shoulders rose and fell as she breathed, deep and even. Papers were still clutched loosely in one hand, as if she’d dozed off mid-review.

I moved closer, noticing the dark sweep of her lashes against her cheeks, the soft part of her lips. Something protective and fierce rose in my chest, a feeling that had nothing to do with her being my employee and everything to do with her being Mia.

Before I could stop myself, I reached out, my fingers hovering just above her cheek where a strand of dark hair had fallen across her face. Gently, barely touching her skin, I brushed the hair back, tucking it behind her ear.

The moment my fingertips grazed her temple, I froze. What the hell was I doing? This wasn’t just crossing a line; it was obliterating it.

I pulled my hand back as if burned, reality crashing back around me. I was her boss. This was wildly fucking inappropriate. It had to stop, right now.

“Mia.” I spoke softly, taking a deliberate step back. “Mia, wake up.”

She didn’t stir.

I cleared my throat, a little louder this time. “Mia.”

Her eyelashes fluttered, and she made a small, confused sound as consciousness returned. For a moment, she looked disoriented, her gray eyes unfocused as they opened. Then she registered my presence and jerked upright.

“Oh god.” Pink flooded her cheeks as she scrambled to gather the papers that had scattered when she moved. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened. I just closed my eyes for a second and?—”

“It’s fine,” I said, cutting her off. “You’re exhausted.”

She shook her head, eyes darting to the clock on the wall. “I can’t believe I fell asleep. We still have so much to do.” Her hands moved frantically, trying to reorganize the files in front of her.

“We’re done for tonight.” I began gathering the papers nearest to me, closing folders and stacking them neatly.

She rubbed at her eyes, trying to banish the sleepiness that still clung to her. “No, I need to revise the training module outline?—”

“Mia.” I said her name firmly, catching her gaze. “You’re dead on your feet. The work will still be here tomorrow.”

“I’m fine.” She tried to stifle a yawn and failed miserably. “Really.”

“You’re not fine.” I continued packing up, my tone making it clear this wasn’t a negotiation. “We’re calling it a night. I’m taking you home.”

She opened her mouth to protest again, then seemed to think better of it. Instead, she nodded and began helping me gather the remaining documents, though I noticed her movements were slow, almost clumsy with fatigue.

As she bent to retrieve her purse from under the table, I saw her sway slightly. My hand shot out instinctively to steady her elbow. She froze at the contact, her eyes meeting mine.

“Easy there.” My voice was much softer than I intended, meaning I had to lighten the moment, stat. “If you pass out, there’s a mountain of paperwork I’d have to fill out. Workplace incident reports are a nightmare.”

Her lips twitched, fighting a smile. “We wouldn’t want that.”

“Absolutely not. I hate paperwork almost as much as I hate inefficiency.” I kept my hand on her elbow, steadying her. “Which is saying something.”

This time she did smile, a genuine one that reached her tired eyes and transformed her face.

Something squeezed in my chest, a feeling both painful and exhilarating.

Christ, she was beautiful. The urge to kiss her was almost overwhelming, so I released her arm, clearing my throat.

“Car’s in the usual spot.” I picked up her laptop bag along with my own.

“I’ve got this. You just worry about not falling over before we get there. ”