That phrase tested the limits of Jason’s self-control. Was he referring to Leland getting shot or Gus’s murder? Or was it Tayla’s kidnapping? Or when he deliberately put Jason’s entire team in danger with his call to Dylan?
Gus’s death should’ve gotten Eric fired. End of story. Nothing was going to change the way Jason felt about that. But at least Eric wasn’t his boss anymore. And he’d be lying to himself if he said he didn’t want WhiteRock to retain all the intelligence Eric collected. And his contacts around the globe. And his skills.
Okay, so yeah. Eric was an asset they needed.
“I know it will take me some time to earn back your trust,” Eric said.
Jason didn’t know if that was even possible. He let that statement swing in awkward silence for a few beats. “Yeah, we’ll see. Listen Eric, I need to go.”
“Okay. Thanks for answering my call. See ya around.”
Frustration about Eric stewed until he turned onto Tayla’s street. Focusing on her white two-story townhouse, he tried to kick his former-boss’s betrayal from his mind. For now.
He maneuvered his F150 into her narrow driveway. Thankfully, she’d parked in her single-car garage, relieving him of the precarious street parking situation.
Walking up to her front porch, he noted several new pots full of bright flowers. He had no idea what they were called, but the flowers, the wreath on the door, and even the welcome mat made her modest home appear happy.
He couldn’t imagine what her house must have looked like when she was married to Spencer Carmichael. She could have kept some of his money. She could be living in a mansion, with a pool, and a tennis court, or whatever. At first, he was surprised she’d donated her late husband’s billions. He guessed most people would’ve kept the money.
Until he knew what Spencer did to her. What he tried to do. Now, he understood Tayla was trying to distance herself from Spencer as much as possible. His death wasn’t enough. She needed to rid herself of his money. Not the route everyone would take. But Tayla wasn’t everyone.
He knocked. And while he waited on the porch, he realized he would feel less comfortable walking into a house solely purchased with Spencer Carmicheal’s money. Yeah. He got it. This wasTayla’shome.
When she opened the door, all thoughts of Spencer Carmicheal, Eric’s phone call, and the rest of the world fled his mind.
Her smile melted something inside of him. Something hard and cold he’d lived with for far too long. He’d had his reasons for avoiding relationships. Good ones. But in the middle of all the chaos in Morghana, God turned all Jason’s logic sideways. And showed him it was not only possible to love again, but that loving Tayla was what heshoulddo.
He stepped inside and shut the door.
“How was your day?” she asked, sliding her hands onto his chest.
He ignored her question. But not the look in her eyes.
His hands snaked around her waist. She rose to her toes, leaning into him, her soft form fitting perfectly—oh, so perfectly—against his. His mouth lowered to hers and he lost himself in the bliss of her kiss.
Until she eased back with a grin. “Dinner’s ready.”
He brushed one more light kiss across her lips and followed her into the kitchen. “It smells amazing.”
“That’s the brisket.”
Be still my heart. “You made brisket?”
“For the tacos. We’re having brisket tacos. And I made some homemade guacamole.”
He almost said ‘I love you.’ But that would’ve been awkward. Because he hadn’t used the l-word yet. Not out loud.
On their first date, on Isadora Island, he’d said something to the effect of not wanting to rush their relationship. Take it slow. It sounded like the right thing to say at the time. She’d smiled and acted like that sounded smart. But they didn’t define ‘slow.’ And now, every moment he spent with her made him redefine what ‘slow’ might mean for him.
He grabbed a tortilla chip, scooped up some guacamole and popped it in his mouth. Wow. “You have guacamole skills. Why am I just now learning this?”
Her smile beamed. “I’m glad to know guacamole is important to you.”
“Is this like the dogvs cat preference?”
She feigned a serious nod. “Yes. You like guacamole and dogs. Both critical qualities.”
He scooped some more guacamole on a corn chip. “Your standards are high. So, am I squeaking by so far?”
