Page 53 of All Tied Down

It’s just as well. I have a long day ahead of me, and I just pray it doesn’t get worse.

21

GARRETT

The elevator ride up to Emerson’s office barely makes you feel like you’re even moving. The experience feels expensive and it probably is. She texted me around six to tell me that she sent Samson home and that she’d be staying in her apartment because work had been hell and she was buried.

The guilt had been immediate because here’s this woman upending her carefully crafted life for me. Between commuting and rearranging her schedule to accommodate life in Ironwood, she’s got to be exhausted, and while I don’t know if my presence will be a relief, I’m hopeful.

My sneakers scuff against the tile floor as I pass a security guard, his presence unsurprising, even this late in the evening. I nod at him, thankful Emerson isn’t entirely alone up here, especially because Tom had already briefed me on today’s events. I’m happy for the reassurance that Emerson is safe, at least physically, after the shitstorm she walked into.

There’s no one outside her office, so I slow my steps and knock at the same time I poke my head inside. “Hey.”

“What are you doing here?” The question is more surprise than anything, and if the lift of her lips is any indication, it means my gamble paid off.

I’d rehearsed this in the car, something sweet but not overly needy because showing up at your fake wife’s office after hours because you missed her and didn’t want to sleep alone isn’t it.

But I can’t remember any of the words.

“I wanted to make sure you’re okay,” slips out instead, her face softening as she pushes back from her desk and saunters over to me, draping her arms over my shoulders and pressing her lips to mine.

“I am, thank you,” she murmurs, melting into me when my arm bands around her waist.

“Is this overstepping?” I ask, pulling back to look her in the eyes. She’s so damn pretty it hurts. Even after hours of work and dealing with stress and chaos, she’s still the most incredible woman I’ve ever seen.

“I don’t know.” There’s honesty there and it’s more than I expected. “I want to say yes because I have about six hours of work left tonight but…” She trails off, looking at something past my shoulder while her fingers slide through the hair at the back of my neck. “I needed this break.”

It’s not exactly a winning expression of devotion, but it’s not nothing either.

Emerson has been firm that this arrangement is just that—an arrangement—but tonight feels like more.

At least to me.

“Did you eat? I brought dinner.” I nod toward the bag that somehow ended up on the floor when she started kissing me. Even now, it’s hard to think with her pressed against me like she is.

And I like it.

“And an overnight bag?” Her eyebrow quirks, and I glance at the small black duffle next to the takeout and shrug.

“I can go home but I wanted to be prepared.”

“Didn’t take you for a Boy Scout, Rockstar.”

I snort out a laugh as she eases from my grasp, moving back toward her desk, but instead of sitting down, she pulls an oversized purse from the floor and starts shoving files into it.

“Anything I can do to help?”

“You can help later.” She winks and I don’t bother hiding my smile or the way my eyes automatically rake over her body.

“Done.” A few more clicks of her computer and she straightens, picking up the purse as I hold my hand out. “Let me.”

Emerson is reluctant but eventually places the straps in my palm and sighs as she leads me toward the elevator. I want to tell her she doesn’t have to do this all by herself, that I can be a real partner in this and help alleviate not just the tension but the weight of what she carries in this position.

The reality that I can’t say any of that hits me like a ton of bricks, as the elevator doors slide closed as she leans against the gold mirrored wall.

“I don’t think anyone has ever done something like this for me.” she says quietly. “I don’t know if I know how to receive something so thoughtful.”

My immediate response is to tell her it’s just takeout, but that’s not what she means. No one has ever put Emerson first simply because they wanted to. It’s always been an obligation and that’s a damn shame.