Conceal

“You didn’t have to. What Grayson thinks doesn’t matter.”

“What does matter?”

“You. What you think. What I think.”

“And do you see yourself the way I see you? Because I don’t think you do, and you should.”

“I’m starting to.”

She walks back to the couch and grabs her jacket.

“Where are you going?”

“Well, you have work, and well, I have—”

“Yes?”

“Well, nothing, but I don’t want to be in your hair. I’ve already wasted too much of your time.”

“It wasn’t a waste because I got to see you. Now take a seat and let me find out what was going on with the mice.”

She shivers at my words, remembering how she came to be here.

“Okay,” she says as she sits, and I look into the problem.

The search takes me five minutes. Maybe even less.

I close my laptop, and the sound makes her look up. “You found something already?”

“It turns out, they were bombing for rodents. You must have missed the memo, or they didn’t post it. The mice must have made it into your apartment before they died.”

She leans forward and buries her head in her hands.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, standing and crossing the room to sit beside her.

“I feel so stupid,” she groans. “You missed work and got in trouble, all because I was too dumb to know this.”

“First off, stop. You didn’t ask me to come. Secondly, enough. I am one hundred percent sure they didn’t inform you. I’m going to dig a little deeper and see. Legally, they should have, so if that’s the case—”

“Stop. I don’t want to cause a problem for Maggie. She’s done so much for me already and so have you.”

“I can only speak for myself, but I want to. Also, I’m happy you called, and I’m happy I came. You know why?”

“No.”

“’Cause now I can take you to lunch.” I smile.

“Always about food with you.”

“It really is. Come on, I want to take you for dim sum.”

“A man after my own heart. I love dim sum.”

I stand and then pull her up to follow me. I don’t bother saying goodbye to the staff or Grayson. I lead her straight to the ground level and into a cab.

I have no intention of coming back today.

If Grayson is in the office, he can man the fort. Also, the job he had for me can be done from anywhere. I don’t need to be here.

No. I would much rather feed my girl.

My girl?

She isn’t my girl.

But as crazy as it sounds, I realize that I want her to be after what she did for me.

I want her by my side. Protected. And not just as a friend.

But more.

Now I need to convince her.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Willow

I’m not sure what came over me. One moment, I was a shaking mess on the couch, and the next, I was standing up to Jaxson’s brother and defending him. Every word I spoke was the truth.

Jaxson Price is the best person I know.

Hearing his brother lay into him had me going red with fury. I should have kept my mouth shut.

Seeing as I’m technically in hiding, it’s probably not smart to put myself on Grayson Price’s radar. I don’t need anyone searching for me.

* * *

It takes me thirty minutes to cool down from my earlier sparring match. Listening to Jaxson order dim sum has helped to calm my nerves. It’s an experience, that’s for sure.

For a man so fit, he sure does eat.

No joke, the man ordered one of every single dish on the menu. There was not one dish left behind.

Different combinations of dumplings, bread, and something called Har Gow. Or as he so pointedly pronounced it, Ha Gow, like ow with a g.

Show-off.

It’s like he thought we were bears going into hibernation.

I shake my head at him the moment the waitress leaves us.

“What?” He shrugs.

“Think you ordered enough?”

“Well, now that you mention it, we might need one more pork bun. I don’t really feel like splitting my food with you.”

“You cannot be serious.”

“Dead.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I like you, Mr. Price.”

He smiles. “What?”

“I never liked being called Mr. Price, but when you say it . . .”

I shake my head on a laugh. I’m about to tell him he’s impossible, the waitress comes over with the first wicker basket of food.

Chopsticks in hand, I take the first bite.

An explosion in my mouth.

“Oh my God,” I say, covering my mouth with one hand as I chew. I swallow and look up at him. “If I keep eating with you, I’m going to blow up.”

“As long as I’m with you, it sounds like a good way to go.”

As we continue to eat, the table goes silent. Dish after dish, we make small talk but nothing big. It’s as if we know that once this meal is done, we have to talk . . . and not just talk about nothing. We need to discuss my husband.