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)
“Ambrose is here?” I gulped. The courage I’d had ten seconds ago seemed to have fled.
“Oh, you’re in trouble, all right.” Cash grinned at me.
“How about you try not to screw this up?” Duncan gave me that lieutenant stare, the one that could see right to my bones.
“I won’t.” I wasn’t going to promise to try because trying wasn’t good enough. I was the fixer, and there was nothing I wanted more than to fix things with Ambrose, whatever it took.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Ambrose
Entering a room with three, make that four, SEALs was intimidating enough. But because one of them was Harley, my pulse clanged like a copper pot with an ill-fitting lid. I didn’t belong among these rugged, muscle-clad warriors. But I did belong with Harley.
“Hi. Uh…” I’d had a whole speech planned, all full of moxie after I’d wrangled the A-List Security headquarters address from Cressida’s assistant. Seeing Harley in person had seemed like such a good idea. However, somewhere during the walk to Duncan’s office with Avery, I’d lost my words and my nerve. I clutched Hercules’s carrier closer.
“Ambrose. Nice to see you again.” Duncan greeted me. His office was small but sunny, dominated by a large cherry desk. And the SEALs took up most of the available real estate. “Are you in need of more security service?”
Cash guffawed at that. “Doubt he’s here on business.”
“I…there’s only one bodyguard I want. Not that I’m hiring…” Frozen in the doorway, I was rambling and unsure precisely how to stop.
“LT, why don’t we clear the room?” Cash suggested, holding up a bakery bag. “I need to walk off the carbs.”
“I suppose we can.” Duncan made no effort to hide his curiosity, taking his sweet time exiting, pausing to stage-whisper to Harley, “Don’t screw on my desk.”
“Never.” I legit squawked. Lord, if Cressida could see me now, she’d never let me run a meeting on my own again. I seriously should not have been this intimidated. I’d presented to powerful people for years. But none of them were Harley. None of them made me feel like he did, giddy and young and centered, like I’d found my place all at once.
Laughing, Duncan looked over at Cash. “Money, perhaps Danny and you could take notes. Not everyone is eager to have public nookie.”
“You walked in one time.” Cash rolled his eyes at Duncan.
“To your garden.”
“We were doing yoga. Anyway, come on, let’s give them some privacy.” Cash led the way out, leaving Avery to trail behind them.
“So.” I took a deep breath when I was finally alone with Harley. I still didn’t remember my speech.
“I’m sorry.” Harley, standing near the door, shut it and took a step toward me.
“Me too. I had all these words planned, but then I saw you, and they all went poof.” I twisted my hands, wanting to reach for him but not sure I had the right.
“My words go poof around you a lot.” He laughed uncertainly. “I wanted to say that yesterday. Ask you to be patient with me while I try to find the right things to say.”
“I wasn’t,” I admitted. “I could have been more patient, but I was quick to assume the worst. It felt like you wanted to end things. Like choosing the show would be mean losing you, and you were okay with that.”
“Never.” He did a pretty good imitation of my squawk before his face went more serious. “I just didn’t want to be the reason you turned the show down. I figured we were kind of a separate deal—like we could do this thing either way. I wanted to tell you we’d work out no matter what, but it’s hard when I doubt myself.”
“You mean relationships are work and monogamy is boring kind of doubts?” I’d heard that reasoning a time or ten from past exes, but Harley shook his head.
“I’m not afraid of hard work.”
“I know.” I touched his arm, unable to wait another second for contact. “So, like, you want us to make it as a couple, but you think we can’t?”
“Not think. Worry. I’m worried I’ll fail.” He studied the carpet, a dusky tinge creeping up his neck like confessing a fear was tantamount to admitting some grave weakness. “More like I’m afraid I’ll screw up by making stupid newbie mistakes rather than something like cheating. I don’t cheat, but I hate to fail.”
“You’re not going to fail.” Finally, I’d recovered some of my certainty. Turned out, reassuring him also settled me. “You’re a great boyfriend. And sure, we need to sort out some real-world logistics, but I don’t think you’re going to ruin things. I’m the one who screwed up, not you. I doubted you. Doubted us. I let my fears win.”
“You think I can’t hack a little distance? Or that I’d pack you off on a plane and go host an orgy?”