Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 88057 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88057 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“I do.” I allowed myself to have enough confidence for both of us.
“All right. You win.” She gave me a tremulous smile. “Can I take you out to brunch? Celebrate your victory? You get to keep your show, after all.”
“Tempting. But…” I trailed off because maybe the show wasn’t the only thing I’d get to keep. Maybe I could have both the show and Harley. Perhaps this was how we’d work out—not in spite of my taking the offer, but because I did, because I needed to be honest with him about wanting both. I needed to not let my fears win.
“You’re needed elsewhere?” She laughed lightly. “I guess I can brunch on my own. Take some calls about new opportunities. You go get your man.”
“I will.” And I simply had to hope he’d listen.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Harley
“You look like something one of Cash’s dogs brought in from the yard.” Duncan looked up from the laptop sitting on his desk. That we had actual desks in an honest-to-God office building still boggled my mind. Headquarters. We were, in fact, doing this thing. Making a viable company. Providing jobs. Maybe even making a difference. But right then, I had to agree with Duncan. I looked like crap. Felt like it too. I’d spent the whole damn night on my couch, and only the prearranged meeting with Duncan dragged my ass out of the apartment.
“Gee, thanks, LT.”
“I’m serious, man.” Frowning at me, Duncan gestured at one of two vacant visitor’s chairs in his office. His had a window. The view was of the building next door, but hey, we were already moving up in the world. I collapsed into the chair as he continued his lecture. “Vacations are supposed to pick you up, not stomp you down. What happened? Cabin roof fall in?”
“Nothing like that.” I started counting bricks on the building out the window rather than let him guess what was truly on my mind.
“Hmm. Does it have anything to do with why you directed the accountant to return Cressida Sterling’s check for wedding security? Without talking with me, I might add.”
“Maybe.” Damn it. I used to be interrogation-proof, but apparently, Duncan already knew all my business.
“I’m not going to say I told you so, but I am going to remind you that you were more than a little put out that I didn’t tell you about Ezra.” Duncan leaned back in his chair, a shit-eating grin on his handsome mug. I’d been expecting this. And he had every right to goad me over this. I’d slept with a client. Trying to make Ambrose not a client by returning the check didn’t excuse my actions, especially considering my prior—loud—opinions on the subject.
“That was…” I started to argue this was different, but really, a client was a client, as was keeping secrets from a friend. “Okay. You got me. I’m sorry.”
“You could have texted. Picked up a phone. Or you could try talking to me now.” Duncan propped his feet on the desk as he regarded me through narrowed eyes.
“Not sure there’s much to talk about. Ambrose is…” Hell, where did I even start? Way back in middle school, we’d had a poetry unit, and I’d cursed every damn adjective. But now I understood why writers obsessed over every little syllable. No word was good enough for Ambrose. No word accurately captured who he was, what he meant to me. “Everything. He’s everything. But he’s mad at me.”
“Ah. What bonehead thing did you do?”
“Wait. I want to hear.” Before I could answer, Cash strode in carrying a tray with three cups of coffee. For someone who didn’t work here, he sure did show up a hell of a lot. I attempted to glare him back to whatever stunt coordinator job he currently had, but he ignored me in favor of taking a seat. “Harley, the navy’s favorite fixer, screwed something up?”
Cash grinned widely, and so did Duncan. Damn them both.
“Your faith in me is truly touching.”
“He screwed up a relationship,” Duncan gleefully reported before helping himself to the fanciest of the coffees, an iced number.
“You do those?” Cash handed me my usual brew. “Oh, do tell all.”
“You could seem slightly less in it for the gossip, Money,” I grumbled before taking a bracing sip of sweet hot coffee.
“But I am. Not even gonna lie.” Stretching, Cash pulled out a bag of bagels. “I can’t wait to tell Danny the mighty have finally fallen.”
“At least you brought snacks to my court-martial.” I accepted one with a cinnamon swirl. “And yeah, I’ve fallen, but the hard landing sucks.”
“Come on. Tell us what you did.” Duncan was taking far too much joy in my predicament.
“I didn’t do anything.” I gestured with my bagel. “I mean, I told him to move to Atlanta—”
Cash and Duncan blinked in unison. “And how’d that go?”