Bean nodded. “Abbot’s on-site. She’s still training their surveillance personnel on the new resort cameras and setups. Witherspoon and Torres are doing some final camera adjustments, and then they’ll work on the perimeter and game-camera install since the security fence was actually delivered early.”
“On that note,” Esme chimed in, “I spoke with the security-fence company, and theyshouldwrap up by the end of next week. But with the storm rolling in, it may push to the following week. However, they’ve assured me they’ll finish before Thanksgiving.”
“Carmichael is still on-site as well,” Tash added. That news had Xander’s brows rising, and she held up her hands. “What? You were busy this evening.”
Xander frowned. “I thought he wrapped up training today.”
“He did, but then he sent Owen in undercover this afternoon and wasn’t impressed with the front desk’s performance.” Tash shrugged. “She basically walked right in, and no one stopped her.”
“Right.” He sighed and ran his hand over Freya’s arm. “I don’t mean to sound high-handed, but I’d like to have someonekeep an eye on you. Until we know who’s sending you these photos, I want eyes on you when I’m not around.”
She nodded. “Okay.”
He tilted his head in question, surprised she was readily agreeing.
“Xander, I’m not an idiot. All of you...” She gestured around the table. “This is what you do. You protect people. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared. The pictures alone make me want to puke. But knowing that this person knows where I work, where Ilive... If you want to have someone parked at the spa with me all day, I’m in.” A tremor rocked through her, and he ran a hand up her back and squeezed her nape. “I can’t help but feel like the other shoe is about to drop.”
He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Not on my watch, baby.”
“Not onourwatch,” Wilson added, crossing his arms over his chest.
Frazier met his gaze and lifted his chin. “A-fucking-men.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The week flew by in a blur. Xander drove her to and from work, and her schedule was jam-packed. From seven thirty in the morning to five thirty in the evening, it was back-to-back-to-back appointments. All the while, Xander’s colleague, Bonson, had parked himself in the corner behind the spa’s front desk, much to the delight of Audrey, the other front-desk girls, and many of the spa guests. To say the man was easy on the eyes was an understatement. Freya was beginning to think it was a Hudson Security job requirement to be charming, ripped, and stupidly hot.
The only morning she had a light schedule was Wednesday—she didn’t have to start until nine thirty—but she’d met Hazel for coffee at Comfort Food. Xander had discreetly taken a small table by the entrance while she and Hazel had caught up on the opposite side of the café.
Meeting with her friend had been a huge disappointment. Hazel had talked her ear off, going on and on about her new boyfriend. How amazing he was, how handsome he was, how rich he was. Every question Hazel had asked her seemed to be just a segue to the next topic she wanted to talk about, which always had to do with her boyfriend.
Freya was happy for Hazel, she really was. She knew her friend tended to move from man to man, never quite finding what she wanted. But this guy seemed to check all of Hazel’s boxes. However, when Hazel said he was giving her the money to open up her own salon downtown, she couldn’t help but be skeptical, especially since their relationship was still so new. However, seeing as her own relationship with Xander was also brand spanking new and moving a million miles an hour, she couldn’t say a thing.
As Miriam had warned her, Hazel had asked her if she wanted to work at the new salon. She’d declined, but it was like Hazel hadn’t heard her and just continued to talk about how much fun they would have working together again.
While Hazel had taken a moment to text her boyfriend, she’d discreetly caught Xander’s eye and sent him a pleading look. Within minutes, he’d rescued her from the painful meetup, and she’d given Hazel a vague promise to see her again soon.
It had been go go go since then.
A highlight was that Miriam had made good on her promise for dinner and had upped the ante. On Wednesday, Mir had treated her and Xander to an amazing dinner at the Orca Moon Lounge, where Mia—on a rare night off—and her boyfriend had joined them. The following night, her boss had surprised her with reservations to the resort’s uber fancy Watermark Restaurant.
Freya’s days were busy and exhausting, with a nervous edge that hovered over her like a storm cloud, but ending each night in Xander’s arms made it all worth it.
On Saturday, after another long day of work, they headed to Daisy’s birthday party, albeit a little late. Her feet were killing her, but she was looking forward to a mellow evening celebrating the darling girl. Apparently, Daisy wanted everyone to come over and watch her newest favorite movie—Tangled—in the backyard. Though the snowstorm the forecasters had anticipated had never materialized, at least not on Hudson Island, it was still twelve days until Thanksgiving, and the temperatures had dropped. So if anything, a backyard movie-night party would be interesting.
They pulled into a long driveway that led to an amazing house that overlooked the water, and despite the nerves blooming in her stomach, she chuckled at the number of all-black Range Rovers lined up along the side.
Over the past week, aside from work, she and Xander had spent every waking moment together. Talking, hanging out, making love. In all that time, it had been on the tip of her tongue to invite him to Thanksgiving. Each and every time, she’d chickened out.
Yes, they were together, but a holiday with her family seemed so official. Not that she wasn’t there. She was. But was he? They hadn’t had the official are-we-boyfriend-and-girlfriend talk, but, temporarily or not, she’d moved in with him, and it was fantastic.
Also, she knew her brothers would grill him. She wasn’t sure she wanted to subject him to that. Hell, she didn’t know ifhewanted to be subjected to that. After all, they were still so new. So she’d hemmed and hawed all week, and now it felt like it was too late to ask.
Oh my God, you’re spiraling. Stop!
Was she overthinking things? Most likely. Did that make inviting him any less nerve-racking? Nope.
Xander cut the engine, and her pulse picked up speed.Now or never.As he reached for his door handle, she blurted, “Will you come home with me for Thanksgiving?”
