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“Yeah,” he said, looking down at the scattering of papers and plans in front of us. “I think there’s real potential with this. Seems like you’ve been working through all this for a while. Or working a shit ton of overtime.”
“A little of both, I guess. I’ve wanted to try this for a couple of years now. You know how we used to talk about doing our own thing. I just never knew where to start. But coming here . . . Everything just kind of clicked and fell into place.”
“No wonder Dad’s so confused about what’s taking you so long.”
I laughed. “Yeah. He’s gonna be pissed. But I think this is much better than the original design. I don’t know.” I dragged my hand through my hair, suddenly feeling uncertain. “You think he’ll go for it?”
He shrugged. “Only one way to find out.”
I checked the clock, drumming my fingers on the tabletop. “I’m going to get this shit in order, get Mos on board. You get the flights arranged.”
“I’ll book them as soon as I get back to my hotel. I know you want to have a sleepover with your little brother”—he laughed, looking around at the close quarters—“but it’s kind of cramped here. I got a big ass king-sized bed waiting for me.”
“Don’t remind me, dick,” I joked. “Text me later.”
As soon as he left, I organized the papers, cleaned up, and called Mosby. Then I made the other call I’d needed to make since my scuffle with Matthew. I said a silent thanks when she answered the phone. “Hey, beautiful.”
“Hey.” Her voice was soft and made me long to touch her.
I wanted her back in my arms. “Sorry it took so long. I was dealing with work and my brother all damn day.”
“It’s okay. I’m sor—”
“No, I’m sorry. I was a jerk.” Her little chuckle lightened the gut-wrenching knot in my stomach. “Forgive me?”
She sighed. “Yes.”
“Can I see you tonight? Please?” I was begging. I knew I was. But I wasn’t doing it out of weakness or guilt. I was doing it out of a genuine desire to make up with her.
Siena
Iknew I was actinglike a cliché—a girl consumed by “what ifs.” Michael’s earlier words had stung, but he was right. His fight with his brother had nothing to do with me. His family issues were none of my business either. Just because we’d been sleeping together and had essentially admitted our feelings for one another, I had no right to butt into his family affairs. I would’ve reacted the same way if he’d done the same to me.
He was waiting for me when I pulled up, looking at the pink, red, and orange sky of the setting sun. He was so sexy in his jeans, and the tight black T-shirt showed off his sculpted arms and muscled torso. I was so familiar with his body now that I knew precisely where each ripple of muscle was, each dip and bulge.
“I brought leftovers,” I said, lifting the bag.
“Finally.” His smirk made me want to smack him, but the gleam in his eyes made me laugh. “I have a nice bottle of wine, open and breathing on the counter. Welcome,” he said, kissing me before I crossed over the threshold.
He handed me a glass of wine. “Before we eat, I just need to say sorry. Look you in your eyes and apologize again for what I said. I didn’t mean it like it sounded.”
“I know that . . . now. At the moment, I thought you were being the typical rude, self-absorbed asshole I first met.”
“Hey! I’m not any of those things.”
“Really? Exhibit A—”
His mouth stopped me. Hot and urgent against my lips, his kiss stealing my words. He pulled away to look straight into me. “Let’s just agree that we both jump to conclusions a little too fast sometimes. Okay?”
“Okay,” I conceded. I wrapped my arms around him. “I do have one favor to ask. That is if you can wait to eat.”
“Maybe.” He brought his hands up to my shoulders. “Depends on what your favor is.
“Well”—I twirled his hair in between my fingers—“you see . . . I have all of this pent-up anger inside me.”
“Anger?”
I shrugged my shoulders under his hands. “Well, more like frustration.”
