“Love you too,” he replied. “Now go buy a building. I have to call Gracie and tell her I'm sorry I balked at her having a boyfriend.”
That night, back in her hotel room, she curled against Hank on the bed, paperwork spread across the comforter like a second quilt.
“We sign the special use application tomorrow,” he said, tapping the page. “Jason’s already filled in most of it. Liz added some notes in mayor-ese.”
She traced the line where their names appeared together: applicants Hank James, Aubree Spencer.
“You sure you’re up for this?” she asked quietly. “If the board drags it out, we could be bleeding money for months.”
“We’ll adjust,” he said. “Scale back some of the initial studio stuff, ramp up the shop work. I can take more rebuild contracts, and Colby can pick up consulting. Brian’s already talking about merchandising.”
“Brian’s always talking about merchandising,” she said.
“True,” he said. “Point is, we’ll flex. I meant what I said today. I’m more scared of not trying.”
She studied his face, the faint grooves near his eyes, the steady line of his mouth. He’d carried weight before. Different, heavier. This was a different kind of load. Chosen.
“You make it sound easy,” she said.
“It’s not,” he said. “It’s worth it.”
He set the papers aside and tugged her closer, rolling so she sprawled partly on top of him. Heat slid between them, familiar and new all at once.
“You know what else is worth it?” he asked.
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.
