Chapter 45
I double check and, yep—we’ve hit every property on the list. We're sitting in Reid’s office, which is our office now, reviewing my property files.
All routine maintenance has been completed by Reid, anything larger has been contracted out for, and I’ve submitted all my notes, sketches, and proposals to Cecelia.
She and her team will decide on changes to implement and go from there. I’m a little dejected that I won’t get to see any of the projects through to completion. Who knows the next time I'll set foot in any of these properties.
Panic rises up my throat. What else is there for me to do? I’ve done everything possible with my limited experience. Have I worked myself out of this job? My head is spinning, and anxiety is clawing to get out of my chest. I'm about to fall apart when warm hands squeeze my knees.
“Sugar, look at me. What’s going on? Are you ok?”
I go to tell him I'm fine, but when I open my mouth to speak, I burst into tears.
Reid stands up and plucks me from my chair, sitting in it himself, and nestling me in his lap.
“Shh, shh, shh. It’s all going to be alright. Whatever it is, we’ll get through it together,” he soothes.
He doesn’t ask me any questions, or pressure me to explain. We sit together, my wonderful boyfriend gently stroking my hair and my back, placing soft kisses to the crown of my head and my forehead. He always knows what I need.
When I feel like I can speak without becoming a blubbering mess, I sit up in his lap and take a deep, cleansing breath.
“I'm anxious because I don’t know what'll happen next for me here at Swift.” Reid frowns in confusion. “I did everything assigned to me, and it’s all been passed off to the appropriate teams. Unless your parents suddenly acquire a ton of new properties, there's nothing left for me to do.”
The tears start to burn my eyes again. “Are they going to fire me? I need this job, Reid. My sister is doing amazing in school because she’s not worried about money, and I’ve been able to keep up on all the utilities at home, so she doesn’t have to live at my mom’s mercy.”
“Slow down, sugar. What makes you think they’re going to fire you?
You’ve been a model employee, and I’ve overheard my folks gushing over how impressed they are with your sketches and ideas.
They love you.” He kisses me softly. “Not to mention they're well aware I'm head over heels for you. Baby, you live with me on my family’s ranch. They’re not going to fire you.”
“Well, that’s even worse!” I exclaim and escape from his hold to pace the office. Reid sits forward with his elbows braced on his widespread knees, and hands clasped together.
“I don’t want a job just because I’m boinking the owners’ son!”
“Boinking?” Reid asks.
“Yes, boinking. Is that all you heard? Reeeeeid,” I whine.
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” He gives me a scolding look. “If they fire you, I’d walk out with you and never look back. But that’d never happen, because you’re family. And if the Andersens know anything, it’s how to take care of family,” he reassures.
“And worst comes to worst, I’ll take care of you.” I open my mouth to protest how I don’t need to be taken care of, but he raises his eyebrows to keep me quiet.
“You’ve taken care of yourself, your sister, and your mom for far too long. Let me take care of you, baby. I’ll never discourage you from workin’ or doing what you love. But I need you to believe I’d never let anything happen to you.”
He always knows just the right thing to say, and my panic eases with every one of his kind words.
“I understand why you’re stressed, so why don’t we get you in front of Mom and Dad and y’all can work out a plan. Because I’m sure they sure as shit aren’t going to want to lose you, baby.”
“Ok, I trust you. We can do that.”
“I know we haven’t been together all that long, but I hope I’m starting to prove to you that you'll always be safe with me. I'll always take care of you. I’d do anything for you, Isabelle.”
I'm so in love with this man.
My crazy brain wants to get off this morose topic, so I ping pong to something I’ve been meaning to ask.
“Why do you call me Isabelle?”
“Uh, it’s your name, isn’t it?”
“Smartass. I mean, most people, well, everyone else, calls me Izzy. Don’t get me wrong, I love that you call me by my full name, it makes me feel special. I was just curious.”
He thinks on it for a minute. “I suppose because it’s how Mom introduced you at the banquet. It suits you. You’re my Isabelle, not Izzy.”
Swoon.
“I also think nicknames are personal to the individual relationship. Delilah calls you sissy. Olivia calls you Izzy. I call you sugar.” He winks at me and kisses my cheek. “But I’ll call you whatever you want me to.”
“Isabelle,” he kisses my jaw, “Sugar,” kisses the side of my mouth, “Baby,” he kisses my lips and my eyes fall closed. “My Queen.” He bites my bottom lip pulling on it. “My good girl.” He deepens the kiss, and I melt into a puddle.
“I love it when you call me that,” I groan into his mouth.
“My good girl?” I moan and smile around his expert tongue.
“I know. You soak me every time I say it. Bet if I check, you’re dripping down your thighs right now.” And god do I want him to check. But now isn’t the time, or the place.
“But you’ll always be my Isabelle.”