Chapter 34
Blake
“Hey, I’m heading out.”
Whitney pokes her head into my office later that week, her purse slung over her shoulder and a file hugged to her chest.
My eyes jump to my watch. “Why are you still here?” It’s damn near eight. She should have left hours ago.
“Skye has me going over all the receipts for the last couple months.” She rolls her eyes. “Apparently, Brett was a little liberal with what all went on the company card.”
I scoff. “Let me guess, the company trucks weren’t the only thing being fueled.”
“Nope.” Whitney pops the ‘p’.
“Little shit,” I mutter. “I told Skye he should have fired him the last time he did this.”
She shrugs. “His wife has cancer, and he just lost his parents. They’re in a tough spot. I can’t say I blame him.”
Leaning back in my chair, I cross my arms over my chest. “Then he should have gone to Skye and asked for help. You and I both know Skye would have done something for him.” We’ve all known Brett for years. He’s a hard worker, and otherwise, honest guy, so why the hell wouldn’t he just go to Skye?
“It’s not always easy to ask for help,” she says as though reading my mind.
“Whether it’s pride or fear of being a burden, sometimes people would rather figure things out themselves than reach out.
Even if that means resorting to more drastic measures.
” She shifts, adjusting her purse strap.
“Plus, he probably already feels bad about all the time he’s had to take off work. ”
I consider her for a moment. If Whitney or Tracy were ever in a tough spot, I like to think they’d feel safe coming to me for help.
But I get what she’s saying. Brett’s probably barely holding on and terrified of losing his job as it is.
Filling his personal vehicle with fuel once in a while on the company’s dime is likely the least of his worries right now.
“Find out what Brett needs to get through the next few months,” I tell her. “The brokerage will cover it.”
Whitney’s mouth drops open before she quickly snaps it shut. “That’s… not what I was expecting you to say.”
“I could use the tax deduction,” I tell her, but what I’m really thinking about is Trace. What if she was in a situation like that? Lord knows she’s so damn stubborn, she’d probably plot a bank heist before asking me to help her out financially.
“Uh huh,” Whitney grunts. “So thoughtful of you.” While her tone is sarcastic, the look on her face tells me she knows this is about more than a tax writeoff.
Fuck, Tracy’s turning me soft. It can’t stand.
“I’ll talk to Skye about the fuel bill,” I add. “Just get ahold of Brett and get back to me with what he says.”
“Sure thing, boss.” She grins at me, then adds, “I like this version of you.”
“Whit,” I warn.
“Okay, okay.” Her hands come up in front of her in a defensive gesture. “I’m going. Night, B.”
Whitney turns from my office and disappears down the hallway.
The sky is quickly darkening outside; the streetlights blanketing the city in a warm glow.
I’ve still got a mountain of work to do for the land development project, but suddenly the last place I want to be is here.
Snapping my laptop shut, I ignore the fuck ton of paperwork I need to get through, opting instead to swing by Tracy’s.
I haven’t seen her yet today, which, ground rules or not, really isn’t acceptable. She’s become the exact distraction I was always afraid she would be, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Grabbing my phone, I try calling her. When she doesn’t answer, I send her a quick text.
Me
Have you had dinner, sunshine?
Rising from my desk, I pocket my keys and phone and make my way down to the front doors with the intention of heading to Tracy’s apartment. My steps come to a halt though when I notice her car is still in the parking lot. Why the hell is she here so late, too?
Locking the front door, I turn down the hallway to the office she and Craig always share. I find her sitting at the desk, a stack of papers spread out in front of her as she bends over them, completely oblivious to me.
She’s lost her blazer, and her heels are tossed into the corner of the office.
Her blonde hair is piled on top of her head in a messy bun, a few loose strands framing her face, and she’s absentmindedly picking at a fingernail.
They’re painted yellow today, a perfect match with the discarded blazer she had been wearing over her white dress.
The now infamous white dress—the one that hugs her body to absolute perfection—that she likes to torture me with.
My ray of sunshine.
I gently rap my knuckles on the doorframe so as not to startle her, but she still jumps, her hand flying to her chest as her eyes dart over to me.
“You scared me,” she says, a bit breathless.
“Sorry.” I cross the office and lean down to kiss her forehead. “I didn’t mean to,” I mumble, my lips still pressed against her.
She relaxes back into her chair, and I sink into the one beside her. Even with Craig gone, she still sits on this side of the desk, like the chair on the other side is reserved only for him.
“What are you working on?” I gesture toward the papers in front of her.
Her brows pinch together as though in frustration as she gazes back at the desk. “Craig gave me homework.”
“Homework, huh?” A small laugh vibrates in my chest. “You could have said no.”
“He referred a client to me today,” she explains. “So, I figured it was better to stay in his good graces.”
Loosening my tie, I undo the top button of my shirt. “You’ll always be in his good graces with the amount of candy you feed him.”
“Or maybe it’s my charm.” She flashes me a wink, and goddamn if my heart doesn’t skip a beat.
I pull my tie free and toss it aside, trying to ignore the way a simple wink has my blood heating. “Perhaps. Either way, I don’t like the idea of you being at the office so late. Especially by yourself.”
“You’re here.” She shrugs. “And I just heard Whitney leave.”
“Still, don’t make it a habit, sweetheart.” The idea of her being here by herself at night makes my skin feel too tight for my body. I should upgrade the building’s security system.
“And why are you here?” she challenges. “Are you the only one allowed to work late?”
“Yes,” I answer simply. “It’s my business and its success or failure falls solely on me.”
She considers me for a moment, those diligent eyes missing nothing. “You’re really protective of it, aren’t you? Why?”
A sharp exhale leaves my lips. I damn near let this woman get away because of my tight grip on the brokerage—because I was so wrapped up in protecting everything I had built.
“Yes, I am,” I admit. “My family is the most important thing in my life, Trace. And I’ll do anything to assure they’re always taken care of.
Whit, Skye, my parents… the people I love are the reason I do this.
I never want them to need for anything. I never want them to worry or struggle or question if they’re going to be okay.
” I lean forward and grab her hand. “I’m protective of this brokerage, because I’m protective of the people I love, sweetheart.
This brokerage is my means of taking care of them all. ”
Her free hand comes to my face, her thumb running over my cheek. “You’re a good man, Blake,” she says softly. Her lips twitch then, a small smile creeping across her mouth. “A little psycho sometimes, if I’m being honest, but a good man nonetheless.”
I grab her hand from my cheek and press my lips to her palm. “I’m only psycho about the things I care about.”
The smile falls from her face, her brows drawing together at my words. My heart hammers in my chest, but before she can say anything, I ask, “So, what does Craig have you doing here?”
She watches me a moment longer, before pulling her hands free and thumbing through the papers in front of her.
“He had a client that wanted out of a deal after the rescission period and somehow found a workaround in the contract to get him out of it without any liability. But I can’t figure out how.
Everything in the contract looks like the thing would be watertight. ”
“Let me take a look.” I grab the contract from her and sink back into my chair, paging through it. On my second read through, I find it. “Craig’s always been sly as a fox,” I say, handing the contract back to her. “Take a step back. I guarantee you’re overthinking it.”
She leans forward, nibbling on her bottom lip as she grabs the papers and starts paging through them again.
“I’ve read this thing a dozen times,” she grumbles, her voice taking an edge of exasperation to it.
“How do I keep missing it? All the contingencies were met. All the dates are in compliance. There are no sneaky terms in there anywhere. What am I missing?”
“Think bigger,” I tell her. “Look at the contract as a whole. What do you need for a valid contract?”
Her eyes meet mine briefly before dropping back to the papers in her hand.
She continues to worry her bottom lip as she focuses, and Christ, she’s adorable.
I watch her silently as her mind works, and see the exact moment she figures it out: her spine straightens, her lips pull up in the corners, and her eyes alight with excitement.
“The signatures!” she exclaims, shoving the contract back into my hands and pointing to the last page. “They never consented to using electronic signatures, so the contract wasn’t even valid from the beginning since it was all electronically signed.”
I toss the contract onto the desk and rise from my seat, pulling Tracy up with me. “You’re a smart woman, Trace. There’s not a doubt in my mind you’ll be successful.”
She peers up at me. “Really?” There’s a sense of vulnerability in that one simple word, as though my opinion of her matters.
“Really.” I dip down and press a quick kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Now let’s get out of here. I’m fucking starving.”
Her stomach rumbles in agreement. “Wanna get tacos?” she suggests as she collects her things.
“Anything is fine,” I tell her. “As long as it’s with you.”
She flashes me that full, gorgeous smile of hers, and I grab her hand, walking her down the hallway and out to the parking lot.