Her hands ball into tight little fists at her sides. “You can’t—But I—Dick?—”
“I’d ask if a cat’s got your tongue, but it sounds less cat and more wood chipper.”
“Fuck the internet. I don’t need it that bad.”
“Bullshit. And you know fuck all about me if you think I can live with this interfering with you winning over Vaultress Global.”
At the reminder of what’s really at stake, the tension in her shoulders eases, followed by the clenched fists. “I—thanks.”
She drags her chair alongside mine, and settles in with her leg folded under her.
Otis peaks out from beneath the hem of her sweater.
One glimpse and I’m back to the shitty little room, but the best goddamn place in the world because I’m studying the little guy with her soft thighs wrapped around my head.
She gasps and I follow the direction of her gaze down to the little tattoo. More specifically, my finger tracing over the letters.
I blink down with no recollection of having reached for her to begin with.
Blood surging, the buzzing in my head turns deafening—something inside tumbles and swells.
My chest constricts making my next words a strained rumble. “Just so we’re clear, Holly...”
I wait for her to meet my eyes. When she doesn’t I continue to trace over the flamingo with familiar confidence. “The rest does matter.”
Chapter Fourteen
Chance
Ten minutes later,we’re settled in side by side. "Anything I should know about before I get started?" I gesture to her laptop, desperate to break the tension crackling between us.
She adjusts her glasses, the simple movement sending blood rushing south. "Like what?"
"Well, when I helped Eve, tentacle porn was just the beginning. I'm still traumatized."
Her laugh catches us both by surprise—bright and genuine despite everything.
The second it fades, all I can think about is what I’d trade to hear it again—especially if I’m the reason for it.
Focus, soldier.
With our heads down and tension all but gone, I guide her through the steps to isolate the issue, doing my best to ignore the way she leans in, her shoulder brushing mine.
Her clean, sweet scent is everywhere, sneaking into my lungs like it belongs there.
It doesn’t.
But damn, it’s hard to remember that.
And then the clues emerge. One by one, each a revelation making my blood run cold.
My mood sours, tension swells, all filling me from the inside out until I’m choking with it.
I shove to my feet, heading for the door. Time to have a talk with murder muffin.
She’s out of her chair right after me, curling her fingers over my forearm. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
“The fucker’s hacking your computer.”
