Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 88057 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88057 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“I’m coming.” Eyes narrowed, Harley nodded sharply.
“Uh?” I was having trouble following him. “Here? Or back to my place tonight?”
“No, not here. And your place is fine. But I keep thinking about your trip.”
“I’ll be fine,” I said with far more conviction than I felt. I had medication, Hercules, and I’d likely have a production assistant along for the flight.
“I know you will.” Harley gathered me in for a tight hug. “And maybe I can’t join you this first trip. But I’m gonna come, Ambrose.”
“Oh.” I made a sound of pure wonder. And guarded joy. I hadn’t expected him to reach a decision this quickly at all.
“I know this is fast and early and all that stuff, but I can’t imagine being without you for long stretches of time. Heck, already I sleep better with you and Hercules close.”
“I don’t want to be without you either,” I admitted, stroking his shoulder, brushing off the last few water droplets that clung to his warm skin. “But I also don’t want you abandoning your business or your friend group.”
“I’m not. Duncan is itching to get started on all these expansion plans. And like you keep telling me, planes are a thing. Even if I am hella looking forward to our road trip later this summer.”
“Me too.” We’d already been looking at maps and talking potential stops, debating various routes from LA to Atlanta.
“And something tells me you can find a rental big enough for the occasional guest. My friends or yours. And your sister’s not gonna let you stay gone either.”
“A house with the guest quarters far on the other side,” I agreed with a cheeky wink.
Harley put a hand on his heart, all fake shock. “Why, Mr. Sterling, are you planning to get loud?”
“Very.”
“Let’s practice tonight.” He leaned in to lightly nibble at my ear until I pushed him away with a reluctant shove.
“Stop. I still need to walk past your friends to collect my dog.” I turned to walk back toward the house, but Harley stopped me, pulling me back to him, looking down at me with fathoms-deep eyes and a thoughtful tilt to his mouth. “What?”
“You’re perfect.” He said with such wonder and amazement that my heart nearly stopped right then.
“For you.” My voice was thick, and I needed the flip response simply to be able to speak at all.
“No, I mean it. You’re…everything. And that sounded more poetic in my head.” Harley’s mouth twisted, and I reached up to stroke his stubbly jaw. “Damn, words keep failing me, but I’ve never been in love before—”
“Say that again.” My eyes shot wide open and my grip on his jaw tightened.
“You’re everything. That part? Or the I love you part?” His smile was so bashful it was a wonder I didn’t start bawling on the spot.
“Both.” My voice came out all choked, but I was far past caring. “I love you too. And I don’t care about fast or early. I do. I love you.”
“I’m gonna do everything in my power to do right by you.” His gaze met mine, and a lifetime passed in the next heartbeat. It felt like a vow, and I trusted him to keep it. After all, I’d trusted him with my very life. My heart wasn’t such a big leap.
“You already have.” I kissed him lightly on the lips, wanting to reward his courage with a promise of my own, even if my voice was still shaking. “But I’m going to do the same. I don’t want fear to win. You’re not the only one who wants to be the perfect boyfriend.”
“You are. Perfect for me.” He kissed me then, the perfect kiss for the perfect moment. And maybe neither of us was perfect in actuality, but we were perfect together, and that was all that mattered.
Chapter Forty-One
Harley—November
“Hey, boss. I’m home.” I called out as I let myself into our Ansley Park rental. I wasn’t sure precisely when it had gone from Ambrose’s rental to our home. His assistant found him a couple of possible executive-type home rentals, but this one had been near a great dog park. He’d signed the lease before we left on our road trip to Atlanta in late August. I’d wanted to help him settle in, which led to me taking a short-term gig before returning to LA to pack up more of my stuff before taking a more regular Atlanta contract. Malik, one of Duncan’s stream of new hires, needed a place to crash, so I sublet my apartment. And then, before I knew it, we were approaching a week before Thanksgiving, eight months of dating, and not sick of each other yet. At least, I hoped not. I rattled the bag of roast chicken and sides from the place on Piedmont that Ambrose and Hercules both loved. “And I brought chow.”