Page 90 of Dirty Fighter

Chuck peers around my shoulder. “Not that I can see. I’m sorry, Mr. Stanvic. She seemed harmless. She just asked if she could stay for a few minutes while she figured out who to call.”

“Who to call?” Not the norm for the fans, bunnies, and reporters Chuck’s had to turn away over the years. I start to look, when Lattner points his shovel toward the seating area.

“Hey, Static, isn’t that… uhh… not your sister?”

32

Rowan

Pushing up from the black leather couch in the seating area of Jason’s lobby, I stare as the most tender, gentle man I have ever met terrifies Baby Bun and the other guys from his team so much they all jump back.

I’ve barely taken a step in his direction before he’s my Jason again.

No. Not mine.

Just Jason. Kind and understanding. Ed’s son. A man who deserves more than what I’ve brought him.

“I’m sorry to show up like this.” My voice is shaky, my heart racing.

He breaks away from his team, closing the distance between us with long strides. And I have to dig deep to keep my emotions in check, to stop from running up to him and burying my face against his chest.

His brows are drawn together, his face strained. He’s practically vibrating with an intensity I can’t quite read through my own whirling relief that he’s here.

That I’ll be able to speak to him before he goes… wherever he’s going. Somewhere, based on the oversized duffel strapped across his chest.

He’s gorgeous, wearing a linen shirt and light slacks. He hasn’t shaved and his damp hair is falling in the kind of mess I made of it after having my fingers in it all night.

“Rowan,” he says, voice like rough stones. Like finding the words after these past weeks is nothing like those easy endless conversations on the island.

Though I’m certain for different reasons.

“What… How are you here?” He shakes his head, looks back at his teammates who are openly staring from a safe distance, and then turns back to me. “I didn’t— How?”

For weeks, I’ve been thinking about what I’d say to this man if I saw him again. Now? I can’t remember a word. “I drove. From South Dakota.”

“You were… home?” he says slowly, some dawning realization I don’t understand beneath the words. And then, his head drops forward, and I’m pretty sure I hear, “Fucking Marsha.”

He has no idea.

“I would have called, but I didn’t have your number. I wasn’t actually sure this was your building. And I don’t even want to tell you how I found it, but⁠—”

His head comes back up, and there’s something in his eyes that wasn’t there five seconds ago. He’s still radiating intensity, but it feels different. He looks taller. Broader.

More like the man cajoling me with stories about his team, about Ed. About the island.

The island.

“Jason, we need to talk. About the island.”

He’s nodding, the corner of his mouth hooking up in a… damn it, distractingly sexy half smile. “Sure. Anything you want.”

“I told Ron about us. About the will and my mom.”

His brow lifts, and his smile… whoa. That smile is… Focus!

“I convinced him to tell her the cabin was overrun with black mold and damage from the storm… W-what are you doing?” I gasp as Jason slowly lowers himself to his knees. “Oh my God, Jason! Are you okay? There wasn’t any mold! I swear. I was only trying to delay my mom long enough so I could figure out how to get her to sell you the cabin, without knowing it was you and trying to gouge you on the price because she’s⁠—”

“Marry me.”