Page 27 of The Decoy

“You really are something special, Brody,” she says softly.

“So I’ve been told,” I say, smiling and teasing her to lighten the emotional weight in the room. I glance over her shoulder and look at the clock on the wall. “Shit, Scott will be here soon for the signing that already happened. But hey, speaking of my house.”

“Crap. I need to get myself together.” She stands up and starts packing up her food. “What about your house?”

I also stand and help her clean up. “Promise me you’ll eat some more of this after Scott leaves, before your next meeting.”

“I promise.” She smiles. “House?” She waves her hand at me to hurry me along.

“Oh, right. I was thinking since we have a week off before the playoffs,” I say, looking at her. “I thought it’d be a shame to wait until the spring for the dogs to have a playdate. So why don’t you and Oshie come out to Jersey on Saturday.”

She hesitates and stops packing the food. “You want me to come to your place? With my dog?”

“I mean, yeah. Just you, me, and the mutts.” I smirk. “My yard has six acres of high-fenced grass and privacy. Buck needs a friend, and you need a break from the city. No phone calls, no traffic. Just some good food and a fire.”

She looks at me for a minute. I can see she’s battling something in her mind. Then finally, she lets out a soft laugh, shaking her head as she leans her forehead against my chest.

“Okay, fine,” she says playfully. “Oshie and I will come out on Saturday. But if your dog steals my girl's toys, I’m billing you for the replacement.”

“Buck is a total gentleman,” I laugh, instinctively leaning down to kiss her head. “He’ll treat her like the duchess she is. Is that right? What would she be in the royal line of succession?”

“You’re too much,” she laughs, shaking her head.

I’m relieved to see her laughing. I know she wouldn’t want Scott to see her crying.

I grab my jacket from the chair and point to the signed contract on her desk as she scoots her chair back. She has her phone in one hand and looks happier and even more radiant than she was before she got the results.

“Do you need me to stay for the meeting with Scott?”

“Not unless you want to. Or if you have any other questions. I can just review it with him again, and we can call it a day.” She sits back down in her chair.

“I’ll head out then. I know you have a busy rest of your day, and I know if I don’t leave, I’ll be tempted to stay until I see you finish that food,” I say, backing toward the door.

“The food will be in my belly by the end of the day, Vaughn,” she says, smiling, her eyes tracking me to the door. “I’ll see you on Saturday.”

I lift a hand, and just before the door shuts, I shoot her a wink.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Ellis

December in North Jersey hits with a crisp bite that turns your breath into steady plumes of white steam the second you step outside.

I cut the engine of my black Mercedes-Maybach GLS 600, resting my hands on the leather steering wheel for a second as the even sun dips behind the line of trees surrounding Brody’s beautiful property. Acres of snow-dusted ground, a massive stone house that looks like it belongs on a holiday postcard, and a winding driveway that feels worlds away from the streets of Manhattan.

I glance in the rearview, checking my reflection to make sure I don’t have bags under my eyes. I traded my work clothes for leggings, a long, blue cashmere sweater paired soft suede boots and a black coat. At fifteen weeks pregnant, the soft curve of a bump is showing, and the leggings make it easier for me to breathe. But I won’t be able to hide it much longer under my clothes. My brother noticed it the other day at the office. I’m going to have to announce my pregnancy, and soon.

From the back seat, an impatient whine breaks the silence.

“Okay, Oshie,” I say, catching my girl’s eye in the glass. Her tail is already thumping hard against the leather seat, her nose pressed against the tinted window. “You can’t look like you’re desperate for his company, sweet girl.”

Oshie lets out a high-pitched bark that suggests she doesn’t give a damn about subtleties.

Laughing, I unbuckle, open the driver’s side door, and swing around to let her out. The minute her paws hit the snow, the front door swings wide open.

Brody steps out onto the wide porch, looking infuriatingly handsome. He has on a black henley with the sleeves pushed up to his forearms, dark jeans, and socks. No shoes, no jacket, despite the twenty-degree weather, looking like the cold doesn’t bother him in the slightest.

Beside him, Buck sits patiently at his heel, his tail sweeping in wide arcs across the stone.