“I didn’t ask you to resign,” I tell him. He walks around the desk, leans against it, looking at me like he can’t figure me out.
“Yes you did. You said two people can’t be in control at the same time. You told me you had everything under control and I wasn’t needed.”
I lift my chin up. “And you told me you wanted to race for it.”
He winces. “I regret that. I’m an asshole…”
“You can’t say things like that and expect to take them back so easily.” I take a step forward without thinking about it. Like my body needs to close the gap between us.
His shoulders tense, but he doesn’t move. “You’re right,” he says finally, voice low. “I can’t take it back. But I can make sure I don’t annoy you again.”
“That’s not your call.” I stop in front of him, close enough to see the faint stubble on his jaw, the pulse ticking in his neck. “You don’t get to decide what I can handle. If you want to race for it, then we race for it.”
He blinks, his head tipping to the side like he’s trying to read me. He lets out a soft breath, and I wonder what he’s thinking.
Then his gaze dips to my mouth. To my throat. And I feel my skin start to heat.
“You said yourself, it wouldn’t be a fair race.” He tips his head to the side, his gaze not leaving mine.
“It doesn’t matter,” I say stubbornly. And yes, I’m annoyed. But I like the way he looks at me. I like the way my body responds to him.
I like the power I feel whenever I catch him looking t me.
“Either way you lose,” he murmurs. “You’ve already got what you wanted. Why would you risk it?”
Because I haven’t got what I want. And I feel it again. That power. It gives me courage.
“BecauseIdecide when something’s finished. Nobody else.” I give him a pointed look.
That smile ghosts his lips again. He stares at me like I’m the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen. “And if I win, and I catch you…” His voice lowers.
My heart starts to race. “And if you catch me…”
“Then I get something. What I want.” There’s a tic in his jaw. I watch it, my breath ragged now.
My breath stutters. I should say no. Laugh it off. But I can’t seem to move. All I can think about is him catching me. Pulling me against him. Touching me. Everywhere. Until we’re both breathless.
Because I want it, too. Way too much.
He nods, like he can hear the words I haven’t said, then straightens, his voice calm again. “Very well. Tomorrow. Sunrise, outside the Salty Dog. You run, I’ll chase. And maybe we’ll both win.”
He gives a slow, knowing smile. Because we both know what happens if the prey gets caught.
And I want that. Maybe more than I want him off the committee.
Maybe more than I want to be in control.
“Tomorrow, then,” I say. “I’ll see you at first light.” My voice sounds stretched too thin. My body buzzes with anticipation.
I let out a long breath at the fact I just agreed to be chased by Zach Fitzgerald.
And an even longer one because I’m actually looking forward to it.
THE FITZGERALD FAMILY CHAT
AUTUMN:
Why is it that nobody in this family ever replies to my messages. Or answers my phone calls?
