Chapter 29
Boone
I’m sitting in Dean’s corner office on the thirtieth floor of Maddox Security’s headquarters in Saint Pierce, trying—and failing—to focus on the conversation. The ocean sprawls outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, sparkling in the late morning sun. Normally, I’d be transfixed by the waves, reminded of the early days of my career when I’d do ocean-side drills and sweeps. But today, my mind’s somewhere else entirely.
Aubree.
It’s been over a week since I last saw her in person—since we packed up the cabin, drove her home, and handed her life back to her. I keep telling myself it was the right thing, that she needed to return to Slice Slice Baby and the town she loves. But every day since I left, I wake up missing her more than the day before. The phone calls help, but they’re not enough. Her voice lights me up, sure, but it also makes the emptiness more apparent. I crave the soft press of her lips, the way her laughter feels in my arms.
I snap back to reality when Dean clears his throat pointedly. He’s sitting behind his massive glass desk, eyebrows raised. “You still with me, Boone?” he asks, the edge of a smile tugging at his mouth.
“Yeah,” I lie, giving a quick nod. “Sorry, just got lost in thought.”
“Mm-hmm.” He doesn’t buy it for a second, though he doesn’t push. Instead, he points at the folder on his desk. “So, I’ve been thinking about expanding. We’ve got a strong hold on the East Coast, Florida especially, but there’s a market in the Midwest—Tennessee, Kentucky, the surrounding states. I’ve got some high-end clients sniffing around who’d love an office closer to home.”
I turn my attention fully to Dean, interest piqued despite the buzzing in my chest that’s still chanting Aubree’s name. “That’s a big move,” I say.
He nods. “Sure is. But it’s time. I’ve already scouted a few properties around Nashville for a potential office. The place is booming—corporate expansions, entertainment scene, politicians, country music stars. Plenty of folks with money who need premium security.”
I blink, my thoughts jumping to the cabin I own just outside Nashville. The air, the pines, the streams... and Aubree, whose pizza shop is only a short drive from there. My heart thuds harder. “You’re thinking about setting up a branch in Tennessee?” I ask slowly, trying to keep my voice even.
Dean leans back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest. “Yeah. And I need someone I can trust to head it up.” He levels his gaze at me. “Someone who’s proven he can handle a crisis under pressure, who’s got the skill and the leadership. And quite frankly, I think you’d be perfect for it. You’re already half living in the mountains up there anyway.”
My mind goes blank for a moment, like it’s short-circuiting. “Me?” I manage to say.
Dean smirks. “You. Unless you’re not interested. But I seem to recall you have a certain fondness for the Tennessee woods—and maybe other reasons to be up there?”
Heat creeps up my neck. He’s obviously referring to Aubree, though he’s polite enough not to say her name. “I, uh… I’m definitely interested,” I blurt, excitement thrumming through me. A chance to live near Aubree, to actually build something in Nashville while doing the job I love? It sounds like a dream I didn’t know I could have.
Dean grins, pulling a sheet of paper from the folder. “Excellent. I’ve got a rough timeline. We’ll want to secure an office space within the next month. Then we’ll gradually transfer some of our key personnel, train up some newbies, and get the branch running. I’d want you to oversee all of that, including hiring decisions.”
I flip through the pages he hands me. My head spins with the potential. Managing my own branch? Setting up a team? I’ve always been more of a field operative than an office guy, but the idea of building something from the ground up, doing it on my terms… it’s a rush. “This is huge,” I say quietly. “Thank you for trusting me.”
He shrugs. “You’ve earned it, Boone. I need someone who’s dependable, who’ll keep a tight ship. And if that’s in Nashville, well—it’s a bonus that you’re already fond of the area. You just have to promise to keep your head on straight. No letting personal matters get in the way of the job.”
I know he’s hinting at Aubree, but I can’t even pretend to be annoyed. Because this changes everything. Instead, I nod, my chest tight. “I’ll handle it, Dean. I won’t let you down.”
“Good. I’ll send the formal offer to your email. Get your eyes on the contract, talk it over with whoever you need to.”
“Right,” I say, swallowing. I can’t wait to tell Aubree—but a part of me wants to keep it a surprise. Something in me craves that moment where I show up in her pizza shop and say, “By the way, I’m moving here. Permanently.”
Dean must see the wheels spinning in my mind, because he lets out a short chuckle. “I take it you’re thinking about how to break the news?”
“You could say that,” I admit.
He waves a hand. “Do it however you like. I’m giving you about a week or so to get your ducks in a row. Then we’ll finalize everything. Sound good?”
“Sounds perfect,” I say, standing up straighter. The ocean outside the window glimmers, but my mind’s on a different horizon. “Thank you, Dean.”
He gives a curt nod, then folds his hands on the desk. “Now get out of here. I’ve got another meeting, and you’ve got some planning to do.”
I leave the skyrise with my heart hammering against my ribs. The midday heat hits me as soon as I step onto the sidewalk, but it doesn’t bother me. My head’s spinning with the best kind of chaos—logistics, tasks, and the thought of seeing Aubree again.
Over the next few days, it’s non-stop. Dean sends me reams of documents to review—reports, budgets, recruitment strategies. I make calls to potential local contacts, cross-check a list of employees who might transfer. It’s exhilarating, but all-consuming. By the end of each day, my phone is filled with missed calls and texts from old friends or colleagues.
And one missed text from Aubree each night—“Hey, sorry I missed your call, busy day. Miss you, or hope you’re well, etc.” And my heart wrenches every time. I want to call her back, tell her everything, hear her laugh when I describe how I’ll run my own branch. But each time I check the clock, it’s past midnight, or I’m knee-deep in a planning meeting. I hate it. Hate letting the days slip by without hearing her voice. But the payoff—surprising her in person—burns bright in my mind.
Finally, after nearly a week, I pack up my truck. It’s still early morning when I hit the road, heading north out of Saint Pierce, the sky a wash of gold and pink. My overnight bag rides in the passenger seat, stuffed with enough clothes to last a few days. I called Aubree’s mother last night, quietly letting her in on the secret. She agreed to keep her daughter busy and none the wiser.
A grin tugs at my lips as I merge onto the highway. This is it. I can’t wait to see the look on her face when I walk into Slice Slice Baby unannounced, maybe right in the middle of lunch rush. I might bring her flowers, or maybe just show up at the counter and order a slice.
The miles stretch ahead, but my chest feels lighter with every sign that points toward Nashville. I turn on the radio, letting some old country songs fill the cab, ignoring the swirl of traffic. My mind drifts to the memory of holding Aubree’s hand, the warmth of her gaze, the way she’d nudge me whenever I was too serious. In just a few hours, I’ll be there.
She has no idea I’m coming. And I can’t wait to change that.