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I turn to look at Sawyer. “Do you know how to arrange the company jet?”
She nods. “Sam gave me instructions. I have them on my phone. She said I would need the information at odd times so to keep it on me.”
“No,” Grant replies.
“I was asking Sawyer.”
“You’re still with her?”
“Yes.”
“And it took you forever to answer your phone.” If it is possible to hear someone smirk, it would be Grant at this moment.
“Fuck off,” I grumble.
“Where do you need to go?” Sawyer asks, her phone in her hands.
“Idaho, plant 82. There’s an issue. I need to get there sooner rather than later,” I tell her.
Her eyes widen, but she nods and gets to work preparing the company jet. Her fingers fly across the screen before she places her phone to her ear. She climbs off the bed and moves toward the bathroom as she speaks softly into the phone.
“She’s taking care of it. Are you going with me?”
“Yeah,” he agrees. “I’ll meet you at the airport. I’m going to call Owen on my way and let him know what’s going on.”
“I’ll text you what time to be there.”
“Thanks, and, Royce?”
“Yeah?”
“Sorry to ruin your night.”
“We were just talking.”
“Keep telling yourself that, brother.” He laughs as the line goes dead.
Tossing my phone on the bed, I run my hands over my face and fight the urge to scream. This is part of my job as CEO—I handle this shit—but this is a first for me. It’s the first time an employee has come in raging mad, and the first time that I dread leaving the office. Who am I kidding? It’s not the office I don’t want to leave. It’s her. Sawyer.
Her hands land on my shoulders, and I lift my head. She’s standing in front of me, and I can’t resist wrapping my arms around her and resting my head against her belly. “I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for. This was out of your control, and it’s your job to handle whatever it is that you have to handle. It must be major for one of your brothers to call you at this hour.”
I look up at her. “How did you know it was one of my brothers?”
She runs her fingers through my hair, and I pull her even closer as my legs part wider, making room to bring her into my space. “That’s a layer. You have this way you speak to them. You’re not as stern as you are with your employees, and you’re more vocal. You don’t hold back your frustration or the foul language.” She smiles softly, and I swear I can feel her hands reaching into my chest and gripping my heart.
“I’m sorry that I have to go.” I run my hands up the back of her thighs. “I hate that I’m losing this time with you.”
“You have a job to do. I’ll be here when you get back.”
Acceptance. I only have my failed marriage to go off, but I’ve never had this kind of acceptance when it comes to my job. “Will you miss me?” I ask, my lips quirking up at the question.
“Yeah, Riggins. I’m going to miss you.” She kisses the corner of my mouth, then pulls out of my hold. “The jet will be ready in an hour. You need to get packed, and I need to call a cab.”
“What?” I reach out and snag her wrist, pulling her back into me. “You don’t need to call a cab. You can stay here and sleep.” I hate the thought of her in my bed alone, but what’s worse is thinking about her leaving and going back to her place. Even though I’m not going to be here with her, I want her here.
“I can go home, Royce. I’m a big girl.”
“I know, but it’s late, and I would feel better knowing that you were here in my house tonight. Not out in a cab, all alone.” I give her what I hope is a puppy-dog look. I’ve never used it on anyone but my momma.
“Fine.” She rolls those beautiful green eyes, but there’s a smile playing on her lips. “I’ll stay.”
“Good. Now, I need to grab a shower and pack.”
“Anything I can do to help?”
I rake my eyes over her. “No. If you come near that shower, I’m going to be late.”
“You are the boss.” She smirks.
“Make yourself at home, beautiful. I’ll be right out.” I kiss the corner of her mouth and stand from the bed and rush to the bathroom to take the world's fastest shower. I have an hour, and the airport is only ten minutes away. The faster I get my shit handled, the more time I have with her before I need to leave.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m showered and packed. When I exit my closet, Sawyer is in my bed, under the covers. Her hair is pulled up on top of her head, and I’m two seconds from calling Grant and telling him to handle this clusterfuck on his own. “You look like you belong there,” I say, and her eyes pull away from her phone to look at me.
