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Until Abby’s situation gets cleaned up, what I want doesn’t matter.
I’ve decided to let my own impatience run wild, tracking him down on my own. I’ll see what I can find.
Propping my feet up on my desk, I pick up the phone to call the project manager at the construction company.
“Mr. Brandt, how are you doing?” a gruff voice answers.
“I’m good, George. I need a favor.”
“Okay?”
“I want to do a walkthrough of the Winthrope site this week. I’m just not sure when I’ll be able to get to it. Can you send me the work schedule for the week?” I ask.
“I can, but...why do you need the schedule for a walkthrough?”
“I’ll know who I’m talking to if I have questions. I’ll eventually need each week’s schedule for accounting to verify billing, anyhow.”
“No problem, boss. I’ll send it right over. The guys on the site can answer plenty of questions for you, but if anything seems off or you don’t think you’re getting enough out of them, call me.”
“Will do. Thanks.”
The only questions I have aren’t about construction.
True to his word, George has a two-week work schedule sitting in my inbox within the hour, and apparently Will the Jackass himself is working today.
I run downstairs expecting to hop in an Uber, but Reese comes in just as I’m going out. She’s back early from taking Ward to the Naperville suburbs for a client meeting.
She grins at me. “Hi.”
I scan the lobby to make sure we’re alone, pull her to me, press my lips to her forehead, and release her too quickly. We can’t risk being busted.
“Where are you off to?” she asks.
Fuck. I thought I could go and get back before she knew I was gone. There’s no way she’ll be okay with me snooping around Frisk on my own.
“I was just going to my place to pick up my car,” I say, adjusting my tie.
She lifts an eyebrow. “Your car? What’s up?”
I shrug. “Rough day. Feeling restless. I thought I’d get behind the wheel for a change. You want to give me a lift home?”
“Sure!”
We walk to the parking garage.
“I don’t have any pickups or deliveries for a while. Let me drive your car today?”
“Sorry, sweetheart. I need some alone time today to unwind.”
“Oh—right.” Her face tightens and her voice is guarded.
My eyes dart around the garage.
No one’s around, but shit, I have to get this worked out. I pull her close, wrapping both arms around her waist, and lean over so my lips almost touch her ear.
“You know how I feel about you. Nothing’s wrong. I promise. I just need to work through some company crap,” I tell her, brushing my lips over hers.
She doesn’t pull away. She also doesn’t melt against me like she usually does, either.
“So it’s not an annoying chauffeur and her super annoying niece completely invading your space kind of thing?” she whispers.
I can’t help but smirk because it’s ridiculous to think that.
“Fuck no. Also, my driver-girlfriend is way more infuriating than her niece.”
She punches me with a laugh. I know we’re okay.
“I wouldn’t trade her for the world, though,” I say.
She smiles like the sunrise.
“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Reese.”
Her cheeks glow like roses as I slide my fingers under her chin, tilting her gaze to mine.
“I thought you’d be used to it by now.”
She giggles. “Right. Like I’ll ever get used to someone like you saying things like that to me.”
“Bull. I barely deserve you,” I throw back.
“Nick, if we don’t go now, I’m going to kiss you right here, and...I won’t care who sees it.”
I survey the area again. Fuck it.
I steal a kiss with the force of a thousand suns.
“More tonight,” I whisper, hoping I can wait for tonight. I’m tempted to make a mad dash into the penthouse with her when we pick up the car.
Thankfully, I check my baser instincts as she drops me off at the parking garage and keeps going.
Aside from two immaculate high-end cars, I keep an eight-year-old SUV for the times when I don’t want to be noticed.
Like today.
It takes over half an hour to get across town and pull up to the construction site just as a beat-up vehicle I recognize from the ugly meeting at Sweeter Grind pulls out.
Dammit. I don’t stop, opting to follow Frisk instead. We drive for nearly twenty minutes in meandering Chicago traffic.
I’m careful to stay two cars behind him so he doesn’t notice me.
He finally pulls into another worksite—more of a demolition site, really—an old warehouse that’s half torn apart.
I pull into a gas station on the corner across the street, park next to the air meter, grab the hose, and kneel beside my tire to see what happens. A few burly men in sunglasses come out and load boxes into Will’s trunk a minute later from another car.
