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Chapter Eight
“I hope I didn’t blow it.” Zane paced around the empty living room, too amped up to stop moving. He fisted and flexed his hands at his sides.
“You did fine,” Danny said. “And the guy’s local. Whatever he prints isn’t going to reach far.”
“He’s young, eager. He wanted to see how hard he could push you,” Bryce said. “But you didn’t push back, and everyone in the room noticed.”
Yeah, because he didn’t have the words. Zane jabbed his fingers through his hair. The personal questions the reporter had thrown at him had taken him by such painful surprise that Zane couldn’t think of one intelligent thing to say. It was like his head had been stuffed with mothballs. “The ambassador for SHE isn’t supposed to talk like he has his head up his ass.”
“I’d say it was only partially up.”
Zane glared at Bryce.
“You did fine,” Danny reiterated, also scowling at Bryce. “You were real, Zane. Authentic. You speak to everyone without judgment, and that’s the kind of person SHE wants.”
“I’m not sure that cocky reporter is going to believe that.”
“Would you quit pacing? You’re wearing down the floor,” Bryce said.
Zane stopped and heard a sound come from the direction of the kitchen. He frowned and gestured with his thumb over his shoulder.
“Sophie’s still here. She offered to finish the cleanup so Elena could head home,” Bryce said.
Sophie. She’d given the best response of the night. He’d been floored by her answer. Grateful. His heart full of admiration. He hadn’t realized she’d stuck around.
“You guys should go,” he said. “I’ll talk to you in the morning.”
“Zane,” Bryce said in warning.
“Go,” he answered in a tone that said not to give him shit right now.
Bryce and Danny looked at each other and got up. Zane walked them out. “Do me a favor and keep things light between you two,” Bryce said.
“Yes, sir.”
“You want to ‘yes sir’ me then—”
Zane shut the door and locked it. Bryce didn’t need to worry. With his sorry mood, he had no plans to seduce Sophie. He just wanted tobewith her.
He leaned against the archway to the kitchen and took pleasure in watching her for a minute. She’d put her hair up in a ponytail, but a few tendrils curled around her neck. Her feet were bare, the heels she’d seemed none too comfortable wearing placed perfectly side by side under the dining table. And she was humming as she wiped the countertops.
She turned and startled. Her hand flew to her chest. “You just scared the junk out of me!”
Two seconds flat. That’s all it had taken for her to relax every muscle in his body. “Junk?”
All the pretty color flooded her cheeks again. “You have a problem with junk?”
“No. Not at all.” He grinned.
“Junk happens to be the word my grandmother uses.”
“It’s a good word.”
“Are…are you okay?” she asked, concern and care in her sweet voice. “I’m so sorry about that reporter. He knew the rules, but I thought you did great.”
“I’m better now. And no need to apologize.” What exactly was it about this woman that hurled all thejunkin his head away?
She blessed him with a small but beautiful smile. “Well, I’m done here, so I should be going.” She folded the dish towel in her hand and laid it on the counter.
