say, knowing I’m damn near fated to break it now. Still, I won’t give up without a fight.
Her forehead creases like she’s offended.
“I can’t keep my hands off of you in this house, the car...but you know that. Still, I won’t risk making a spectacle of you or our relationship at work.”
“Wait. We have a relationship?”
Fucking hell.
I’m not ready to answer that mishap, so I walk to the empty center of the table with my girl still clinging to me and lay her across it.
I know when to shut it and I think my dick appreciates me more for it.
“What are you doing?” she whispers, finding out a second later as my hand runs up her leg and hikes up her skirt.
“What we can’t do at work, though I may keep a room on call at the hotel up the street. I’d rather have you for lunch any day, Paige.” I sink down on my knees, dragging my lips up her thighs greedily.
“Oh, Ward,” she whispers, the first of many times.
The second time that phrase leaves her mouth, I think I’ve convinced her we can be inappropriate damn near anywhere.
23
High Maintenance (Paige)
“If we flipped this around—” I point to a wall on the design plan. “It would require less backsplash. We’d get the same look but lower the bid because we’d need less imported tile. I’ve seen Trista’s estimates.”
“Uh-huh.” Ward’s eyes flick between his phone and computer screen.
“Did you hear me?”
“Yeah, that’s fine.”
“What did I say?” I ask, frustration rising.
He plays with his phone again.
“Ward!”
He looks up at me. “Buy the imported tile. Just tell accounting I approved the budget.”
“That’s...not what I said.”
“I trust you on this one,” he says quietly.
For a second, I wonder if this is some new game, but his eyes are dull, even in the summery sun filtering in.
“What’s wrong?” My hands land on my hips, waiting.
But his eyes are on his phone again, reading.
“Nothing,” he grumbles.
“Yeah, right. I’ve never seen you this distracted. What’s wrong?”
He pushes his chair away from his desk and pats his leg, finally looking up with a bearish sigh.
I sit in his lap.
His arms close around me a moment later.
“I didn’t want you mixed up in this,” he begins. “But since we agreed you wouldn’t find out any shit from other people, I guess I should tell you. Nick and I tried calling my dad. He’s not answering. He’s not at the cheap travel motel either. We don’t know where the hell he is, and I don’t know what he’s planning if he’s disappeared. I just know it’s not good.”
It all makes sense now. I lay my head on his shoulder.
“I hope he didn’t find out Beatrice is in Hawaii.”
“Same. I can’t help but think this is the calm before the storm. It’s about to go down,” he says darkly.
“Your parents are walking trauma. Not sure there’s any ‘storm’ coming, it just feels that way because you’ve had so many bad experiences. I bet he’s given up and moved on to the next scheme.”
“Hope you’re right,” he says.
“If something happens, we’ll get through it together,” I say, searching his deep, dark eyes. “I promise.”
“That’s the thing. You shouldn’t have to 'get through' this. A million dollars can’t be worth it.”
I grin. “It’s a million and a half, and I want my money pretty bad.”
He lips turn up in this kissable pitchfork.
“If you backed out, I’d still pay you. You’ve definitely gone above and beyond the call of duty.”
I turn in his lap so I can see that gaze, sharp as a ceremonial dagger. “If you canceled the contract, we’d still get through whatever comes next. Together. You’re stuck with me now, bossypants.”
His smile warms me faster than the balmy sun crisscrossing the office.
“I have no idea why a woman as beautiful, talented, and lively as you wants to be mixed up with a Wardhole—or my insane family—but sometimes I’m glad you do.”
I wrap my arms around his neck, proving just how mixed up I want to be.
He kisses me, but his body feels stiff, almost rigid.
I pull away and slide a hand over his face.
“You’re still tense.”
He nods. “You should probably get up before someone sees us like this. Compromising positions feed a lot of gossip.”
“Oh, right, because sitting in my betrothed’s lap is the scandal of the century. Should I text it to that Osprey guy?”
He laughs, but doesn’t argue. His cell rings, he accepts the call, and puts it on speaker.