Chapter 39
THE CAUTIOUS ONE
BANKS
Dean calls in the afternoon while I’m in the house setting up some security checks with new corporate clients in Los Angeles—we’ll test cameras, handle background checks, and evaluate cybersecurity. I answer the phone right away, and Dean wastes no time on a greeting.
“Can you get away Friday afternoon?”
“Nice to hear from you too. And probably,” I say. I’ve got backup here to cover Ripley when I can’t. “What’s it for? Did you get first-base-line tickets to the Dragons/Cougars game?”
Dean is a notorious baseball fan and will do just about anything to see a game.
“Yes, Banks. I’m suggesting we skip work to see a ball game,” he deadpans, then returns to serious business. “Webflix wants to move quickly. They asked to meet with both of us this Friday.”
I give a quick fist pump, then say in the same no-nonsense tone, “I’ll be there.”
“I’ll lock it in for the afternoon and we’ll meet with them in San Francisco.”
“Is that where you’ll stay?”
“Yup. I’ll fly in Thursday night. I’ll get you all the details.”
“We should meet beforehand and go over our game plan,” I suggest.
“Let’s do it.”
I exhale, and it feels like I’ve been holding my breath for a long time. I sink back into the couch, a little amazed. “Can I just say it? This is impressive. What we’re pulling off.”
“I hear you, but we’re not there yet,” he says, playing the cautious one, which is usually my role.
Lately, though, not so much.
“Right, but still,” I point out, “we started this firm a little over a year ago. We’re blasting past all the goals we set.”
“That is true,” he admits.
“We won’t have to work for anyone else again. Knock on wood and all.”
“It’s a relief, man,” he says, then pauses for a beat. “And you’re right. It’s fucking impressive.”
“I knew you’d see it my way,” I say, my gaze swinging to the kitchen window. I check out the wedding-scene shoot, then turn to watch Ripley working in the fields.
She’s gorgeous there amongst the flowers. She’s in her element, doing what she loves, and she’s damn good at it.
Dean and I chat briefly about the research and prep we’ll both need to do, then we end the call.
I sigh happily. But contentment is short-lived.
I can’t bask in the possibility of this business growth.
Soon—very soon—I need to let my business partner know I’m not the cautious one.
I’m not the obsessive one. I’m the wild card, the rogue one who fell for a client.
I never wanted to be that guy. I despise messes, especially ones I have to clean up. But this isn’t a mess. It’s a situation with a clear-enough solution.
But I don’t have to tell him yet. I can do that when the shoot ends after this weekend.
Right? Right.
The thought twists my gut. I should tell him sooner. It’s the responsible thing to do. I’m not sure I will though.
At least, not before I talk to Ripley.
That evening, after the cast and crew pack up and head into town for dinner, I find Ripley tossing a ball to Hudson, who hurtles after it toward the lavender maze, twinkling with fairy lights. I catch up with her quickly as the dog enters the purple hedges, hell-bent on chasing the errant missile.
“Hey,” I say.
She turns around, seeming to fight a smile before giving in to it.
Oh, hell. Is she feeling this too? If she feels even one-quarter of what I do, I’m a lucky guy.
Because I am falling so damn hard for the woman I swore to protect.
So hard that my stupid heart tumbles over itself as she says, “Oh, hi.”
Emotions climb up my chest, but for several seconds, I don’t know what to say. Fear holds me back. What if I can’t protect her for the next few days? What if these risky feelings distract me on the job at a critical time? What if I fail her somehow?
On the other hand, what if I don’t say a word?
Immediately, I know I can’t walk away from her.
I can’t walk away from the possibility of us.
The way I feel isn’t wrong. It has to be right.
I’m not my father. I’m not doing the same thing he did—not even close.
I’m measured and calculating, and I have a plan—tell the woman I’m obsessed with how I feel, then tell my business partner.
Emboldened by my private pep talk, I say, “Ripley. That Webflix meeting is this Friday.”
“That’s great. I’m happy for you,” she says.
“Me too, but that’s not why I’m mentioning it.” My pulse surges with more excitement than nerves. With anticipation of all the good things. “The movie ends after the weekend.”
Nerves flicker across her eyes. “I know.”
I step closer, look around, making sure it’s only us as the sun dips lower in the sky, pink and purple streaks pulling toward the horizon.
The lights on the hedges give this place a romantic glow.
But it’s not only us here. It’s her dog too.
He trots toward us from one of the coiled hedges, a ball in his mouth.
“I want to keep seeing you when it wraps.”
Her smile spreads so fast it makes my heart soar. “Yeah?”
“I do. I want us to try this,” I say as Hudson drops the ball at our feet. “Out in public. For real. You and me. However we can make it work. Do you?”
She answers by stepping closer, cupping my cheek, quirking up the corner of her lips. “I suppose you’re my type.”
Of course. Of course she’d respond like that. So I give it right back to her. “I knew it.”
She loops her arms around my neck. “Can rule number five be you kiss me right now?”
“Yes.”
I comply, and for once in my life I don’t mind feeling a little out of control. When we break the kiss, I pick up the ball and toss it back into the maze for Hudson to chase.