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*Two heart emojis*
Houston
*laughing emoji* *Winking emoji*
He’s laughing at me. The man knows I’m avoiding telling him I love him, and he’s enjoying every bit of it. If the roles were reversed, I think I’d be upset. Not at him exactly–you can’t help if you love someone–but at the situation. I’d wonder why he didn’t say it back, if he didn’t like me anymore, or if he was going to leave me because I said it too soon.
Not Hudson, though. Maybe it’s because heknowsI love him, too, but am too chicken shit to say it out loud. I thought about nothing else but that in the shower this morning and came to the realization that the only people I’d ever said ‘I love you’ to have been my mom and Pack Monroe. The first died on me, and the others… Well, that obviously didn’t work out well for me, either. Maybe I should go to therapy. I could afford it now if Brooklyn was telling the truth this morning. Not that she has any reason to lie about that. Something to think about when I’m not pulling into work.
Houston parks the car in the covered garage attached to the building Pen2Paper Press is in. The car has a sticker on the windshield for one of the reserved spots closest to the elevator. When I see it, my eyes widen a little. Just a regular spot in this garage is over two hundred dollars a month, and I’ve heard from the people I work with that they have to fight for space on one of the first couple floors, or they’re stuck on the top, which is uncovered. So I’m sure the reserved spot is much more expensive than that. Brooklyn must have arranged that last night, too. How she got the sticker already, I’m not sure.
We walk side by side to the elevator and up to the fourth floor. His head never stays still. It’s always moving side to side, checking our surroundings. When we reach the floor for Pen2Paper, he walks me to my desk to make sure there is no hitman hiding under it, I guess, and then tells me he’ll be seated in reception all day if he needs me.
“Morning,” I call out to Jerrick as I get settled, who is already sitting at his computer. Glancing at the time on my phone to make sure I’m not late, I realize it’s ten til eight. We made good time, so Jerrick must have gotten in extra early.
Instead of just calling out a good morning like he usually does, I hear his chair roll back, and footsteps come from his office. I throw my purse in the drawer of my desk and turn to his office doorway as he steps out.
“Morning, Summer. Who was that you walked in with?” I freeze. He’s leaning against his doorway, staring at me with an open, curious expression. Nothing about his stance or facial expression would suggest he’s gearing up for a fight.
“Oh. Right. I’m sorry. I should have brought this up before coming in. But he’s my… um, security.” I feel silly saying that out loud. As if I’m important enough for round-the-clock security. As if I’m in danger at work, in the middle of the day, surrounded by people.
His eyebrows shoot up, and he stands, no longer leaning against the doorway. “Are you okay?”
I startle, a little taken aback by his concern. “Oh. Umm, yeah. I’m fine. Just precautionary…” It’s not very specific, but I don’t really feel like airing out all my dirty laundry at work. Not that I think he’ll use it as water cooler gossip, but these things never stay secret. Just having Houston here will draw enough questions.
Jerrick raises a brow, then takes a few steps closer until he’s standing only a foot or two away from me. With a quick look around, he bends slightly and, with a lowered voice, says, “Does this have anything to do with why you can’t be on the payroll?”
He’s talking about having to pay me under the table. Which now is unnecessary, I guess, since they found me anyway. I can stop living like a recluse: paying only in cash, avoiding signing up for things with a last name, always looking over my shoulder. They know exactly where I am and who I’m with, so there isn’t a point in hiding.
“It does. Is that a problem? I’d like to continue working here, but I’d understand if this complicates things.” I’m about to beg for my job, but Jerrick raises his hand to stop me before the groveling begins.
“It’s not going to be a problem. But you’re okay? Do you need anything?” He looks genuinely concerned if not a little protective.
“I’m okay. My mates just thought a few extra safeguards would be helpful. So if he could stay in reception during work hours until this whole… thing… gets resolved, that would be great.” At the wordmates,he takes a little step back. Almost instinctively. Strange.
“That’s fine. If you need anything else, let me know. Otherwise, ready to get started?” He points his thumb into his office for our daily morning meeting. I agree and follow him in, ignoring the strange look he’s giving me all of a sudden.
* * *
“Hey, Summer. Can you hand this to Jerrick when he’s free?” Becky, another assistant, asks. I grab it from her, place it off to the side, and get back to work. After a few seconds, I look up and arch a brow at Becky, who is still standing in front of my desk.
“Yes?” I ask, laughing.
She grins back. “Nothing. You just look different today.” I stop typing and lean back in my office chair.
I fold my arms over my chest and give her my full attention. “Good different? Bad different?”
“Good different. Happier. Every time I’ve looked at you today, you’ve had a secret little smile on your face. What gives?” When she points it out, I realize my cheeks do hurt a little. Maybe Ihavebeen smiling nonstop. But if I have, it’s because my pack has been texting me throughout the day. Mason said he’s not going to be home until late because he’s got a photoshoot but that he’d miss me. Maverick and Hudson are together today working on the house they’re flipping, so I’ve been teased all day with sweaty, shirtless pictures. And, of course, Hudson has been tormenting me with random “I love you’s” and getting a kick out of my hard-core avoidance. Brooklyn sent me take-out options for dinner, stating that because I was her favorite, she was letting me pick. All day, it’s been nothing but reminders that despite the dark cloud looming closer, I’ve never been happier than I am with this pack. My pack.
Claire walks up beside Becky—the two are office besties. Thick as thieves. “She’s right. You’re practically glowing. Spill.”
I roll my eyes and go to respond, but just then, Wells walks up. “Hey, sunshine. Just wanted to let you know I’m up. Ready to kick ass and take names,” he says, turning to face the two friends. “Well, hello. I’m Wells. A friend of Summer’s. I hope you don’t mind me saying, but you two are absolutely stunning.” The man winks at them, picks up one of each of their hands, and kisses their knuckles. The whole interaction makes me want to burst out in a fit of laughter. It is so unbelievably cheesy, but Becky and Claire both flush a beet red and look stunned, speechless. Did they hit their heads?
A throat is cleared from behind us, and Becky, Claire, and I all startle at Jerrick’s sudden appearance. The two girls scamper off to their own desks at a record speed, and I turn to gauge his mood. Houston was quiet and respectful all day, but Wells made himself known within minutes, all while disrupting work.
There is mirth in his eyes, thank the Goddess, but he still addresses Wells. “I have no objection to you hanging around during the day to protect Summer, but please keep the work distractions to a minimum.” Then he turns on his heel and walks back into his office.
