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29 | Demon Pickle ETHAN

This woman is my kryptonite. I’m losing my damn mind.

Even after a whole day on set—where she killed it, by the way—she comes in flushed and glowing. And, in those shorts, all legs.

Then she sits down to hang out, and it’s like we do this every day. She’s just natural, cool. I mean, she’s also totally impossible. But I like that too. And I realize, this ease—and spark, if I’m honest—is exactly what I never had with my ex-wife. We had mutual respect, even similarities. But not this.

When Sasha walks in a room, I wake up. Stand at attention in all the ways. I could talk to her for hours. For ever .

Then she nudges my foot, pretends she’s not gawking at my legs—sorry, but it was so damn obvious. She leans in toward me, her shirt gaping in a way I barely have the willpower to ignore. And her catlike eyes go hooded when she moves to kiss me— ’cause she was about to kiss me again, right? —and there’s no way I’m saying no.

I know she said to keep it professional. I know Derek warned me too. But the saying and the doing are not matching up. And, honestly, maybe it’s bad, but I couldn’t be happier about it.

Charlie is the one person I confided in besides Derek.

“When was the last time you liked someone this much?” he asked, as he unpacked his suitcase. “I say go for it.”

I don’t want to blow this for her. I can’t blow this for my team at the magazine. But I don’t want to blow off what’s brewing between us either.

Anyway, it’s dinnertime. And I’m fucking starving.

TO-DO

Kill Charlie for telling Sasha I was talking about her.

Thank Charlie for telling Sasha I was talking about her—maybe it worked to my advantage?

Get out of the middle school zone and start talking to her about her like an actual man.

Finish that kiss.