I glance at the time. It’s nine fifteen. “What are you doing at the office?
“Having dinner with Justin from Sales,” she says.
She delivers the line totally deadpan, and for a second, I wonder if she’s serious. “Excuse me?”
“I’m working, obviously,” she says with a laugh.
Now I’m even more sure my idea is the right thing. She needs a break as much as I do. “Pack it in and come over. Bring something casual to wear tomorrow. You’re taking the day off.”
“What?”
“You heard me,” I say.
“I can’t take tomorrow off,” she says. “I have way too much to do.”
“I’m your boss, and I’m telling you that you’re taking tomorrow off.”
She’s quiet for a moment. I think she’s trying to decide whether or not to argue with me.
“Selene,” I say, my tone serious. “I’ll call building security and make sure they escort you out if you try to get in the building tomorrow. You’re banned from the office for the next twenty-four hours.”
“You won’t call security,” she says.
“No?” I say. “Show up at work tomorrow and test me.”
She sighs. “Okay, if I’m not working tomorrow, what am I doing?”
“I don’t think I’m going to tell you yet.”
“Come on, Ronan,” she says. “If I don’t know what I’m doing, how will I know what clothes to wear?”
“Pretend it’s a weekend,” I say. “Pants, not a skirt or dress. Although I do love the access a dress gives me.”
“Ronan.”
I laugh. “Bring a coat in case it’s cold.”
“Anything else?”
“Just get that hot ass over here,” I say. “There are some things I’d really like to do to you tonight.”
***
We wake up early and grab breakfast on the way out of town. I still haven’t told her what we’re doing. I like keeping her in suspense. She asks questions as we drive down the freeway, trying to get me to let something slip, but I just smile at her. Eventually we settle into a comfortable silence. I put my hand on her thigh, and she lays hers on top of mine. There’s something soothing about the low hum of tires on the road, my hand touching her. Normally I’d be feeling the first pings of adrenaline, knowing where we’re going. But I’m calm, my mind completely clear. I’m excited for what I have planned, but the deep need I typically feel isn’t there.
I’m not flying down the freeway in a hurry to get to my destination, itching for the high I know is coming. I’m sated. Relaxed. Alive.
I glance over at Selene, wondering how she has this kind of magic over me. It’s not just the sex, although I could fuck that woman every day for the rest of my life and never get tired of her.
That thought comes out of nowhere, hitting me like a train. Goddamn, I really could. Usually, I’m all about the chase. I love it when a woman is a challenge, or when there’s a hint of danger in being with her. My statistics professor senior year at Stanford. The daughter of the CEO at my first job after college. Women I work with. Women who don’t want to give me the time of day, until I convince them otherwise. I go after them, loving every minute of the prowl. Once I have them, though, the excitement wears off pretty quickly. A few weeks. A couple months. There’s a reason my brother was surprised to hear me call Selene my girlfriend. That implies a level of commitment I don’t usually bother with.
But not only do I not want to share Selene with anyone else, my interest in her isn’t fading. If anything, the more time I spend with her the more I want her around.
And yes, it scares the fuck out of me. Genuinely scared, and I don’t do fear. Maybe that’s what this is—the intrigue of the fear. Maybe that’s what keeps driving me to be with her. To see her again. To spend my nights with her. To walk by her office just so I can get a glimpse of her. I’m driven by the strangeness of the fear, just like I’m usually driven by the thrill of the chase.
That must be it, because the only other explanation is something I’m not ready to contemplate.
We drive down a long road through empty fields, and the airstrip comes into view.
“Ronan,” Selene says, her voice betraying her anxiety, “what are we doing here?”
I grin at her. “Have you guessed yet?”
I find a parking space and we both get out. Selene stares up at the huge hangar, at the words Skydive Kapowsin in big red and blue letters.
“I am not jumping out of a perfectly good airplane,” she says.
I walk around the car and take her hands. “Yes, you are.”
“No,” she says, shaking her head. “No way.”
I put my fingers through her hair at the base of her neck. “Selene, you’re going to do this. Trust me.”
Her eyes lock with mine. “Okay,” she says. “I trust you.”