“All set, boss,” Maggie says from the doorway. Sophie and I pull apart in the most obvious way possible. She snatches her hand, hiding it behind her back, and I push my rolling chair into the wall behind me.

If Maggie’s smile could talk it would say, oh sweetie, I already knew.

“All set for what?” I ask, standing up, then sitting down again as all the blood seems to drain from my head.

“We’re done,” Sophie says. “It’s almost midnight.”

“Shit. Sorry.”

She shrugs. “Turns out all of us professional kitchen staff actually do know how to close without you.”

I narrow my eyes. Cheeky.

“See you tomorrow, Maggie,” Sophie says, dismissing her. Maggie waves and we both wait in tense silence until we hear the back door close behind her.

“Sorry,” I say again. “That you had to close for me.”

Sophie hops onto the desk. “You were passed out. Figured you needed the rest.”

My brain feels like it’s operating through a thick fog and every time I look at her, catching a peek of her profile, I get the feeling that I was dreaming about her.

“I was going to make you go over the finances with me, but I think you get a break tonight,” she says, her eyes assessing.

“I’ll email everything to you tomorrow,” I promise. “Thank you again.” I clear my throat. “For handling him. I wish I could say that he’s not usually like that but...”

“We can talk about it,” she says. “If you want?” Her legs kick, the soles of her shoes swooshing on the linoleum floor.

I shake my head. “Not really.”

She looks down between her knees, biting her lip. I catch her calf swinging in front of me. “Not right now,” I amend. “But one day, I’d like to tell you about it.”

“You have lines all over your face.” She gestures at my cheeks. “And your hair.”

I pat it down as a blush creeps up my neck. “Sorry,” I croak, for no reason at all. “I’m still kind of out of it.”

She hops down and pulls keys out of her pocket. “I’ll give you a ride home.”

I shake my head. “I’m fine. I don’t need special treatment.”

She wraps her hand around my wrist, squeezing gently. “Maybe not. But you had a rough night and the weather is terrible. Would it kill you to let someone take care of you for once?”

Honestly, it kind of would, but I swallow down my discomfort and nod. I manage to croak out more of my thanks. We move through the restaurant in silence, flipping off lights and double-checking locks. She holds open the back door for me and I tug my coat tighter as I slip and slide to her SUV. Behind me, the security keypad beeps as she types in the code and locks the door.

It’s not until we’re on the road, moving slowly through the icy streets, that the hair on the back of my neck stands up and I catch a glimpse of the back seat. If Sophie is acutely aware of the fact that the last time we were in this car together she made me come, she is not giving anything away.