Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 114284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
“On Wednesday, I’d like us to meet up at Macklin’s restaurant,” I continued. “Will noon work for you? We’ll have lunch.”
He reacted to the location, though it was subtle. Maybe he wondered if Macklin—and Walker—would be involved. But he didn’t say anything. He nodded slowly as he wrote it down.
“Noon at Macklin’s,” he confirmed.
“Great. Thursday, seven PM, we’ll be at my place again,” I said. “And on Friday, we’ll meet up at Walker’s workshop at six. I’ll send you the address.”
I watched him try to stifle a yawn while he wrote down the details, so maybe the meds were kicking in. It was cute as fuck. Hopefully, he could get a good night’s rest now that he didn’t have the world on his shoulders.
“Saturday’s the event, so we’ll show up together,” I told him. “I’ll pick you up before.”
“Understood…” He shifted in his seat, hesitating. “You never sent the photos today.”
No, I’d gotten distracted while editing. It was fucking impossible to narrow them down further, so I’d ended up working on almost forty pictures. We needed three for the event.
“You’ll get them tomorrow,” I replied. “Pick ten, and I’ll give them another round of polish and decide the final three.”
Last but not least, Sunday. By then, I didn’t want this schedule to exist. We were supposed to spend that whole day together—but that could be wishful thinking. Lane’s views on his own problems weren’t gonna disappear over one week, even with the history we shared, how well we’d connected, but I had to have goals. If I had to spend the next year changing his mind, so be it.
At the same time, I wasn’t brand-new. Despite the doubt I’d expressed to Walker and Macklin, I knew Lane wanted more. And I was tailoring my plan according to the man I’d come to know in Florida. I was confident I would, at the very least, put a dent in his resolve.
“Make yourself available early on Sunday,” I said. “I don’t know if we’re spending the night at the house after the event, but if you can clear your schedule for the first half of the day, I’ll get back to you with the details before the weekend.”
“No problem. I don’t have anything planned,” he answered.
Wonderful. This should be fun.
CHAPTER 9
Ty Madison
I bobbed my head to the music in the background and threw a handful of brussels sprouts into the tomato soup on the stove. My guy Tank was on high alert for snacks, camped out on my shoulder, so I offered him a piece of lettuce to munch on. It was better than him trying to claw out the earbud in my ear, where I currently had Walker tsk’ing my rundown of ambushing Lane.
“Let me get this straight,” he said. “You picked his absolute favorite spot in his home and laid into him there…”
I chuckled and added chicken to the soup. “I’m all about finesse, darlin’.”
“Clearly,” he huffed. “But as long as it worked, I suppose.”
“Mm. You know what they say—if the plan is stupid but works, it ain’t stupid.”
“You do share a lot of traits with Colt, Greer, and the Tenleys, sweetheart.”
I grinned and turned down the heat. The chicken was already done, so it just needed to be warmed up. “Military folk, you mean.”
“Indeed.” Walker was amused. “Note that I didn’t include Kingsley and Dean, because Navy men are simply more sophisticated.”
I barked out a laugh and washed my hands. Lane would be here any minute, and Tank had to go back to his nest. “I don’t know Kingsley yet, but I know you’re full of it. Sophisticated, my fine ass. Colt and I actually interviewed two former sailors today for a bodyguard position—was nothin’ sophisticated about them. We hired one on the spot.” The other had received a we’ll be in touch.
We didn’t want our staff hopped up on steroids.
“Sounds more excitin’ than my day,” he replied. “I assembled five desk chairs and watched Macklin decorate my office.”
I smiled. That was a nice image, Walker in his suit, maybe sitting on the floor, assembling office furniture. But I was learning that no matter how fancy his work title was, or how well he was paid, certain grunt work he wanted to do himself. Or rather, he didn’t wanna hire someone else to do it. I liked that about a man.
“By the way, I told Macklin not to make plans with Lane this week,” he mentioned. “It’s not a problem.”
“I appreciate it. You know it’s not that I don’t want them to see each other—it’s just—”
“I understand completely,” he assured. “You need Lane’s focus this week. I think it’s a good idea.”
Okay, good. I’d spent all day yesterday fine-tuning my plans for this week, and the only person I wanted Lane to air his thoughts to was me. The more information I had to go on, the better.