“So we might have missed it.” I felt deflated. It was already the second week of October.
“We can check at work,” Denver said.
“How?” Tonio asked.
“Old man Fergusson’s office doesn’t lock properly. I can check the personnel files,” Denver said.
“I’ll do it. He’s always out on the floor salivating when you guys are on stage,” Tonio said. At Austin and Denver’s look, he clarified. “Salivating over the money you two bring in, not your precious bodies.”
Austin nodded, getting to his feet. “We’ll do it tonight.”
“Thanks,” I said, my righteous energy deflating.
I wished them a good evening and then went back upstairs to work on my story.
The next morning, Tonio joined me in the small study. He just nodded when he came in, which I was grateful for, because I was in the zone. That didn’t always happen when I tried to write, but when it did, any distractions could kill my momentum.
We worked in companionable silence, me writing, him studying from a thick-looking business textbook, until I realized something. “Oh my God,” I said, staring at my screen.
Tonio looked up from his book and stretched his arms over his head. “What?”
“I only have one more chapter to write.”
“You do? That’s great!”
I blinked my eyes until his handsome face came into focus. All this extra time spent staring at my laptop was really killing my vision. “I just kept working at full speed, and it finally dawned on me that there wasn’t much of the story left to go.”
“That’s awesome! And that means you’ll meet your deadline and be able to send it to Veronica tomorrow.”
“Ronnie,” I corrected with a smile. I thought it was cute how he insisted on calling his little sister by her full name. But then I got more serious. “It’ll be done by then, but I won’t have time to revise the ending.” I’d already been through the first three-quarters of the book many times, but the last few chapters were probably pretty rough.
“Don’t worry about it.” Tonio got to his feet and, out of habit, I saved my document and lowered the top of my laptop. I’d spent many years feeling like I had to hide my interest in writing romance, so doing things like that was still ingrained.
Tonio rolled his eyes and then moved behind me, his strong hands coming to rest on my shoulders. He started rubbing, kneading my muscles, and my eyes closed as I released a long breath. “That feels amazing.”
“Good. Your shoulders are really tense.” He pressed his thumbs against the tightest spots.
“Could you do that for about a year?” I moaned.
“Probably not that long, but hearing you moan is a good incentive to keep going.”
I was pretty sure that my cheeks pinked up at that comment, but I didn’t care. It felt incredible.
Tonio’s rich baritone floated down to me. “You told me some good news about your book—I’ve got some good news for you, too.”
“What?” I asked dreamily from about a million miles away.
“We found out Knox’s birthday last night. We haven’t missed it, but it’s coming up soon.”
I sat up a little straighter. “That’s great!”
“Yeah, but now we’ve got to figure out what to do for him.”
“Between the four of us, we’ll think of something.”
“I think it had better be the two of us,” Tonio said, his fingers digging deeper into my aching muscles. “If Austin and Denver are in on the planning, it’ll probably involve strippers.”
I giggled. “Okay, it’ll be just us on the party-planning committee.”
Tonio leaned down and nuzzled my hair with his nose before giving me a kiss on the top of my head. “I like that.”
“Party planning?”
“No. Well, yes. I just mean… I like having a thing that’s just ours. You and Knox have your daily hugs and, well, you and the twins have something between you.” He was nice enough not to say what that was, although he must’ve suspected. “So maybe this can be our thing. Shoulder rubs. Sound good?”
“Sounds wonderful. Is it my turn to rub yours?”
“Not just yet. I still want to work out a few of these knots. But then I’d love it if you’d rub mine.”
“It’s a deal.” For some reason I’d worried about Knox’s reaction to my night spent with the twins, but not Tonio’s. Possibly that was just because he hadn’t been there the next morning. I cared about each man, even though my bond with each of them felt so different. I was glad that Tonio and I now had something we could call our own—and the fact that it felt so damn good was a definite bonus.
Thursday afternoon I was a wreck. My story was done. The email to Ronnie had been composed. My story was properly attached—and yet I couldn’t press send. It just seemed so final. What if Ronnie hated it? What if she thought it had horrible, amateur writing? I hadn’t shown any of my writing to anyone since high school English class. Well, except reports for college, but those didn’t count. This was fiction. It came entirely from my mind. What if it was awful?