“Absolutely.”
Freya watched with a sappy grin on her face. “Thanks, Miles,” she nodded. Once he walked outside with another round of samplers for everyone else, Freya whispered, “I dated his brother in high school.”
“Seth?”
She squeezed his hand, “You’re too cute. Nope. But we’re not going to dwell on the many times Freya Harris has thought herself in love.”
“Harris? I thought you were keeping your name.”
“Professionally, yes. Personally? In a few years, when we have a house and are bored with sex all day, maybe we should have some kids, and I want them to have the same last name as their parents. But I’m hoping you like Marks for a middle name?”
That pang was no longer a pang, but a steady beat in his heart that filled his veins with safety and security… and a thrill that everything was going to be okay. After stealing a savoring kiss, he pulled back. “Hell yeah I’ll take your name, too. Come on, I have a surprise for you.”
“As if all this isn’t impressive enough?” She followed him upstairs. She’d seen all of this before, but he hadn’t let her see the offices until the finishing touches were nailed down.
The hollow he knew would never fully heal knocked about in his brain like a ping pong ball as he passed the photographs that lined the stairs. Jack with a comically panicked expression as he tried a glass from Zane’s first attempt. Another of the three of them in the plaid and pastel Jack had picked out for them to try out golf; it hadn’t gone well, especially when they wrecked the golf cart, but they’d had a hell of a lot of fun. Another of the three of them just coming back from the worst sort of op; exhausted and aching and heartbroken. A few more of the whole team, in their gear and relaxing on the beach waiting for their ride home. The collection supported the name of the business of course, but also included a sign with information on how to support wounded veterans.
Without a word, Freya studied each photograph with him, her expression matching the tone of each, her heart broken for him. How the hell had he gotten so lucky?
He dragged her up the stairs, past the central workspace. They stopped in Grady’s office; he bit his cheek as he grinned at the romance novel he’d left on the desk for his new partner as a little thank you gift. About a spoiled attorney falling for completely the wrong woman. It had been easier to find than he thought, apparently, some people enjoyed sexy books about spoiled rich guys too.
Freya checked out his office, promising to fulfill a few fantasies he hadn’t even come up with yet, behind and on top of that desk. Then he pulled her back into the room she’d fallen in love with. Shiplap wall and tranquil blue walls, consistent lighting, and an easel in the center of the room to demonstrate.
She strolled to the middle and spun in a circle. “For me?”
“Is it okay? I mean, you can work wherever you want…”
“But it’s your building. This is the nicest space in the building. Don’t you want the better office?”
He crossed his arms over his chest and a flash of red heated his cheeks. “You kidding? Maybe I’m a little codependent, but I love the idea of getting to work next to each other. But if you want your own space, no problem, we’ll find or build a studio wherever you want. As long as you keep doing what you love.”
“It’s perfect.” She strode toward him and tugged him close by the waistband of his jeans. “Really. You astonish me at every turn. You see me.”
Wrapping his arms around her waist, he leaned his forehead against hers. “Ditto. Whatever you need.”
“You. I need you.” She kissed him and smiled against his mouth.
The End
~
Ready for the next in the series? Here’s a sneaky peek (caution: this is still in draft form!) A Day Late. Enjoy!
A Day Late
Chapter 1
“Hurry up, our flight leaves in an hour,” the impatient growl echoed up the stairs.
Typical. Now it was her fault they were running behind. She’d been ready for two hours. But because he was now ready and by the door, she was late.
“I’ll meet you in the car,” Claire hollered as she shoved her spare phone charger in her purse and flew down the hollow townhouse stairs.
Almost on vacation, she reminded herself. Glad she’d gripped the bannister, she nearly slipped on the Saltillo tile at the foot of the stairs, then hooked a sliding U toward the garage, flicked off the hall light on her way by, and was in the garage before he could comment on her tardiness.
The last few weeks–okay, months–had sped by as her brain was engulfed in a delirium of studying and long hours of clinicals. Ryder had been more than patient as she finished her veterinary program. And tendency to crash after a long day, home for a rare meal and burning the midnight oil night after night. In an equitable exchange, she’d shown understanding as he built a name for himself at one of the west coast’s top marketing firms.
That had always been their plan. First date conversation: I’m in a critical point of my career, he’d said. That’s ok, I have another year of veterinary school ahead, she’d responded. Careers first, then each other. Once things were settled, they’d find the house with the white picket fence and pop out a couple of kids.
She’d turned thirty last week. Where had her twenties gone? Baby number one was supposed to be at least a year old by now.
Ryder hoisted her suitcase off the ground and
