Because I Can (Necklace Trilogy 2)

Goodnight.

The message is so very Mark Compton. While some might think he’s reprimanding me, I’m fairly certain he just told me that I’m missed. It’s nice to be missed. It’s confusing to be missed. The push and pull between New York and Nashville is real.

For now, though, I have Nashville on my mind.

I gather my things, and with my briefcase loaded up and on my shoulder, I decide to stop by Tyler’s office yet again. I’ve tried to catch up with him twice earlier, in the hopes of talking about New York, but he’s been nowhere to be found. And his secretary is no help. She just blinks at me and says, “He’s not in.”

I exit the lobby to find the doors to Tyler’s side of the office locked with the lights out. Okay then, so much for that. Honestly, the whole place is a ghost town at only five o’clock. I step into the elevator and it’s not long before I’m in the parking garage. I step out of the car and freeze with the utter silence. No one is around and I curse Dash for making me so jumpy. That prickly sensation on the back of my neck is back and I grab the car keys from my purse and scan the area. I see no one, but I feel someone. Or now, I really am going crazy.

I start walking, and when I get to the car, despite clicking the unlock button on the key, it’s not unlocked. I try again. It won’t unlock. I want to scream. I’m about to call Dash when a fancy sportscar pulls into the spot two cars over. I’m relieved for the company and determined to be in the car before whoever just arrived heads inside and I’m alone with whoever my stalker is again. Not that I really have a stalker. I just keep feeling like I’m being watched. At this point I set my bag on the ground, and right when I would dial Dash, Tyler is standing beside me, looking so very arrogantly handsome, and perfectly him, in a blue pinstriped suit.

“Problems, Ms. Wright?”

“I can’t get the car to unlock,” I reluctantly admit, my cheeks heating. “As silly as that sounds. It’s not even the first time I drove this car.”

He holds out a commanding hand. I offer him the keys. He clicks the lock. “Try it now.”

I open the door. “Okay, I’m embarrassed. How did you do that?”

“The new M4’s have a tricky key. Which you don’t know because it’s not your car.” He holds out the key for me to take.

I close my hand around them but he doesn’t let go. “When your identity becomes his identity, what is left of you, Ms. Wright?”

Unexpectedly, he doesn’t hit a nerve, nor does he stir insecurity in me, as I might expect with this remark. This is now, I refuse to allow Tyler to muddy the water of past and present. Nor will he force a reply that would be about my mistakes, someone that is not Dash.

“Allie,” I correct defiantly. “Ms. Wright is as generic as you accuse me of becoming. And I’m not losing my identity to Dash. I’m borrowing his car. Mine broke down.”

He studies me a moment and releases the keys. “You realize he’s not a simple man, I assume?”

“I’m pretty sure we’re both clear on that point,” I say, my defensiveness for Dash driving me to add, “but rarely are brilliant, creative people simple.”

“He’s got demons chasing him,” he says. “You either accept those demons or you walk away. And if you walk away, do it now, not later, when you do so bleeding.”

“I don’t choose to accept his demons. I choose to help him fight them.”

“And you think you can do what no one else can?”

“Is that what happened with Allison, Tyler?” I ask before I can stop myself. “Did she try and help you fight your demons and the demons won?”

His lips thin. “You, Ms. Wright, never know your limits. And you do have limits.”

“As do you, just the wrong ones.” I’m speaking of the journal entries, of course, of his unwillingness to be vulnerable with Allison.

He arches a brow. “Meaning what?”

“Nothing. I have limits, remember?” I change the subject. “But speaking of limits, the donations have been generous, but I don’t know if I can get all the validations done in time for the auction. We need to get to pricing. I need to go to New York City and go through the auction validations in person. If they can even get them all done. They are volunteering their help.”

His intelligent blue eyes narrow on me and his lips curve slightly. “Let me guess. You’d like to go during Dash’s charity signing.”

I don’t justify that remark with a counter punch. I simply say, “Yes. A few days before so I have plenty of time at Riptide.”