Some might consider it fucked up that I’m able to go there right now. But I’ll take the temporary reprieve. I’ll take anything she gives me.
My pitch dropping, I muse, “Maybe I’ll have to do something about that when I get back.”
“May-be.” She sings the word, like a dare. One that heats my blood.
“Maybe I’ll think about it every night I’m here. Brainstorm a little. Practice on my own.” Picture her sweet little moans and tight pussy while I do it. “I know how much you appreciate planning.”
“Maybe I’ll do some planning of my own.”
I’m grinning again. Grinning and fighting a sudden hard-on that really doesn’t fit with this day.
Up ahead, three nurses on an evening stroll turn onto the walkway I’m next to. “For such a rule follower, you have me thinking very inappropriate thoughts in a very inappropriate setting.”
“Can’t handle me, Grayson?” she playfully challenges.
“I can handle you just fine, Boston.”
And I’ll be counting down the days until I canhandle heragain. A light at the end of this dark tunnel.
The nurses approach, giggling at something one of them said.
“I should go,” I say, though it pains me. Dawson’s definitely done with the doctors by now, and I only told AnsonI’d been gone a few minutes. Any longer out here and I’d be overindulging.
“Yeah. Of course.” She’s quiet for a breath, like she’s searching for words. “Grayson, he’s lucky to have you as a brother. Remember that.”
And I’m lucky you stepped foot on my farm all those weeks ago.
“Talk to you tomorrow, gorgeous.”
The hospital’s fluorescent lights hurt my eyes as I make my way back inside, weaving through sterile hallways until I find Anson leaning against the wall outside Dawson’s room.
He lifts a brow. “You said you were just stepping outside. You go on a walk to Michigan?”
“Had a call to make.”
He makes a point of reading his watch. “Eight p.m., so it wasn’t work-related. And I just gave JJ an update.”
I stare at him. “You waiting for me to fill in the blank?”
He shrugs. “Blank’s already filled. How is she?”
There’s no point denying his assumption.
Aside from the night he offered her the job, I haven’t spoken to Anson about Eliza. He’s not the guy you go to for relationship advice—and I’ve already made up my mind about what I’m doing. But Anson’s always been good at reading people, and the fact I’m not moping around like some pathetic, heartbroken sap tells him all he needs to know.
“She’s…”Perfect. Hot as hell.Honestly, the list of adjectives is endless, but I go with, “a lifesaver. She stepped in with tours and the festival. Didn’t even ask her to.”
“And I still got her marketing report in my inbox last night,” he says, a pleased tilt to his mouth.
Thenit flattens.
“I got a call this week from some tech startup. The lady was a fucking robot.” If Anson thinks that, she must be as warm and welcoming as a brick. “She was calling for a reference for Eliza’s upcoming interview.”
His implication hits me like a blow to the sternum.
I remind myself the reaction isn’t fair. I know she’s still figuring things out. She hasn’t taken Anson’s offer. I’ve been careful to tell myself every day that she could leave and things could get harder.
But still, it sucks to hear. And it feels even shittier that she didn’t tell me about her interview—not because I’m offended or angry, but because I’m sure it’s a big deal to her, and I want her to share herbig dealswith me.
