Off the Record: A Sweet Office Romantic Comedy (The Nashville Romantics Book 1)
Off the Record: epilogue

“The numbers are in,” Hudson says, taking my hand and pulling me into his office. He closes the door and gently pushes me against the wall where no one in the office will see us. If someone opens the door, we’ll get smacked.

“If this is you trying to tell me that Mr. Prescott wants a meeting to decide the fate of our paper, then stop right now and explain yourself.”

He puts his hands on the wall, blocking me in, then lowers his face until his lips are on mine. “He already did,” he says between kisses.

“So are we celebrating?” I kiss him back. “Or mourning?”

His hands go around my waist, pulling me close. “Celebrating.”

I squeal, my arms going around his neck. “We did it!”

“We did. I’m staying on as managing editor. If we can keep up the revenue increase, we can hire more staff at the end of the next quarter.”

“I have ideas for that.”

“I’m sure you do, but I want to hear them later.” He kisses me again.

I let him for another minute before pulling away. “We talked about this. No cavorting on company time.”

“This is off the record.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Sure it does,” he says, trying to pull me back. “I’ll clock out for the next fifteen minutes.”

“You’re salary.”

“You’re ruining this.”

I laugh loudly, then stifle it. “You’re going to get me in trouble,” I hiss.

“I’m your boss,” he reminds me.

But I already know. Kyla was fired two months ago for being caught doing this very thing with a guy from The Tennessee Outdoors, so it’s important we set an example. Leo moved to the Tribune when we had to cut a third of the office back in November, thanks to the consultant’s recommendations, but I think Hudson was as happy to see the back of him as I was. Leo and Kyla broke up shortly after that—greener pastures of women in the Tribune office, I’m guessing. Simone, Stan, and Andrea stuck with us, and we’ve been working more as a team to save the paper than ever before.

Because we’ve actually treated each other like a team. Hudson leveled with everyone after the cuts were finalized, explained what we had to do to remain a viable paper, and everyone was on board to make it happen. This is going to be an office-wide celebration once he announces that we got the green light to continue.

“I got you a little something to celebrate,” he says, fishing a lipstick tube out of his pocket and putting it in my hand.

It’s Wet ‘n Wild in Hot Red. My mouth breaks out in a grin even as my cheeks flush.

“Your mom helped me figure out what to buy,” he says. “It’s the exact same color you used to wear when you did your newsreels.”

“I wish Carrie had never found them.”

“Oh, come on,” he says, laughing.

“I also wish she hadn’t dragged them out and watched every single one with us. You’ve met my family. I’m never going to live it down.”

His hands snake around my waist. “That was one of the best nights of my life.”

I lift the lipstick. “Do you want me to change careers now?”

“No. I thought it would be fun to see Adult Paisley sporting that color.”

“Adult Paisley can give it a try,” I agree, pocketing it for later. “But not at work in front of all the people I want to respect me. At least, not until I’m sure I can pull it off.”

“You can pull off anything.” He starts to nuzzle again, but I push him away gently.

“How do you want to tell everyone?” I ask.

“I was thinking we could order food from Pete and have a lunch party Friday. Can you keep the secret for two more days?”

“Secrets are no fun.”

“This is more like a surprise party.” He gives me a beseeching look. “When Andrea sends out the email that lunch will be provided Friday to go with a big announcement, I’m guessing they’ll all figure it out.”

I take his hands in mine and give them a squeeze. Over the past six months, we have spent more time together than apart, and I’m pretty sure we’re both going to end up getting what we want—to kiss each other every day for the rest of our lives.

“I really love you,” I say, pulling him down for a kiss.

“I love you too.”

We break the company rules for five more minutes before I slip back to my desk, my face beaming, and go back to writing an article about the teenager I met who works at the Goo Goo Clusters shop downtown.

I glance over my shoulder to see Hudson sitting at his desk, smiling at me.

Can life get any better than this? I submit that it cannot.