She smiled, slowly. “I have a guess.”
Their mouths met, the connection immediate; the paper rustled beneath her elbow as she braced herself, laughter bubbling up even as desire curled low in her belly.
“Careful,” she said against his lips. “If we crumple the application, the board will definitely deny us.”
“We’ll just tell them we stress-tested it,” he murmured.
They didn’t go as far as they had on the boat; clothes stayed mostly on, bodies aligned in a slow, rocking rhythm that left both of them flushed and breathing harder, the kind of release that felt like letting go of breath they’d been holding all day.
Afterward, they lay tangled in the dim lamplight, the muffled sounds of the harbor drifting through the slightly open window.
“Tomorrow,” he said into her hair, “we'll deal with all of this.”
“Tonight,” she said, tracing circles on his chest, “we rest. Because apparently being brave is exhausting.”
His chest rose and fell under her hand, steady. “Good thing we’re in training,” he said.
She smiled against his skin, eyes slipping closed. Scared and hopeful, tired and wired. On the edge of something.
And for the first time in a long time, she didn’t look for a way off the ledge.
Chapter 22
Jason stood on a ladder near the front windows, drill driver in hand, securing a new bracket to the brick. A soft morning light slanted through the dusty glass, catching motes in the air. Someone had propped the bay door open; the harbor breeze cut the lingering scent of oil.
“You’re early,” Hank said, rubbing a hand over his jaw.
Jason glanced down. “Are you still staying in the hotel?"
“For now. We're beginning the search for a house today. Bree and I are sharing her room, Brian and Colby have the other. We're all tired of hotel living.”
They wanted somewhere real. Somewhere theirs.
“Where’s your partner in crime?” Jason asked, climbing down. “She usually beats you here.”
“Bree had a call with her accountant,” Hank said. “They’re going over what happens if the board plays hardball. She’ll be by after. We sign the special use application at City Hall in an hour.”
Jason grimaced. “I’d rather pull all this wiring through twice than sit through a zoning board meeting,” he said.
“Same,” Hank said. “But apparently grown-ups attend public hearings. It’s in the manual.”
Jason snorted. “Colby texted,” he said. “He’s meeting with the bank rep this morning to go over your revised projections. Wants to make sure they see the ‘community benefit’ section.”
“That guy and his spreadsheets,” Hank said, a fondness threading through the words. “He probably didn't sleep at all last night.”
Jason said. “He was here at six, measuring the front wall again. Muttering about sightlines and light angles for Bryn’s wall.”
Hank’s chest tightened in a way that wasn’t all anxiety. “He’s putting his heart into it,” he said quietly.
“You all are,” Jason said.
The drill whirred again from somewhere behind them. Brian emerged from the back hallway, a paint roller balanced on his shoulder like a ridiculous spear, flecks of white on his forearms.
“Good, you’re up,” Brian said.
Hank gestured at the roller. “Are you starting without us?”
“Prepping the back room,” Brian said. “Figured if the board says yes, we’ll need a clean space for the office.”
