“—could be so dangerous and out of control if not handled with the right amount of care.”
“Mm-hmm,” she mused. “But what about the bees?”
A deep belly laugh rolled out of me. I half-expected the vibration to wake Bennett.
“The bees don’t pay my mortgage,” I told her. “Oh, by the way, that guy interviewed me today.”
“Brock, the podcast guy?”
I snorted. “Yes, that is his full name.”
“Shut up,” she teased, her voice laced with laughter. “I checked out a couple of his episodes. I didn’t understand most of what he was talking about, but he seems legit.”
“Glad to know he’s got the Nessa Gibbs seal of approval.” I took a deep breath before adding, “He, uh, also might have taken a few photos of me reading that book.”
“What book?” A lightbulb went off in her head before I could answer. “Ourbook?”
“He saw the paperback sticking out of my bag and asked about it.”
“And you told him?” she asked, shocked.
“Why not? I’ve got nothing to hide.”
Just because I didn’t broadcast every facet of my life didn’t mean I was hiding it. I wasn’t embarrassed about my reading preferences. Hell, most men—and their partners—would probably benefit from a little more romance reading.
“I also might have mentioned your store, so don’t be surprised if you get a call or something.”
Hopefully, she wouldn’t see that as overstepping or, heaven forbid, another act of swooping.
“Oh. Well, that’s—” I held my breath while she searched for the words. “Thank you, Jared.”
We fell into a comfortable silence after that. While she tapped at her keyboard, I couldn’t help but think about how much had changed between us over the course of the last week. The wall Nessa had erected between us months ago had crumbled, leaving nothing but a pile of dusty bricks in its wake. That was nothing a few hours with a shovel couldn’t fix.
Child’s play.
Turning down the chance to back out of our fake relationship had been the easiest no I’d ever given. A better man might have thought twice about it, but that wasn’t me. There was no turning back now.
Not until I made Nessa mine.
“I like that,” I rumbled, my voice roughened with fatigue.
The clacking ceased. “What?”
“Your fingers on the keyboard.” A few of my teammates swore by ASMR to help them sleep at night—something about brain tingles—but I had never given it much thought until now. “I don’t know. There’s something soothing about it.”
I rolled over onto my side and tucked the phone between my ear and the pillow. “Will you stay on the phone with me for a little bit?”
“You—” She stammered her words. “What should I—”
“You don’t have to say anything.”
“Okay.” Her soft tone caressed my skin, settling between my muscles and easing every knot. “Goodnight, Jared.”
“Goodnight, angel.”
I drifted off to the melodic rhythm of fingers on plastic. Tonight, I would rest easy—more so than I had in weeks—knowing that the dust between us had started to clear. We were finally on the same page.
Nessa
