Ricky sighs, looking like he’s just been told to go to bed when it’s the two-minute warning of the game. “Come on, one more second?”

  Daniel growls, and they jump into action, pulling the men apart. I’ll give that to them, they don’t push Daniel too far. But their prey is now damp with sweat, and when Mark weasels out of his jacket, Brandon does the same.

  They attack each other again, leaving Ricky and Billy holding empty coats in the air and looking at them almost comically.

  But a flash of blue and orange catches my eye, and I realize that in all the kerfuffle, Arnold has come in, doing his usual speed walk with his arms pumping quickly at his sides. He must be hyper focused because he doesn’t see Mark or Brandon, and in their untrained sloppiness, Mark’s half-assed tackle of Brandon sends both of them running into Arnold, who also tumbles to the hard floor, shouting in surprise.

  “My neck!” he yells. “My back!”

  “My pussy and my crack?” Ricky murmurs so quiet I think I might’ve imagined it.

  Normally, I’d giggle a little bit, but I’m worried about Arnold. He’s not exactly a spry guy who can take a licking and keep on ticking, and laid out on the floor, he seems way less grumpy grouch and much more ‘I’ve fallen and I can’t get up.’

  Thankfully, my team’s on it, Stephanie calling out, “I’m calling 9-1-1!”

  It’s enough to startle the fighting men. They freeze, hands wrapped around each other as they flail on the floor like fish in desperate need of water. Realizing they’re in even deeper shit, they set their animosity aside for the moment and help each other to their feet, running like hell for the door without so much as a glance back.

  “Hey!” Billy yells but doesn’t go after them when he sees me push past everyone to get down on my knees next to Arnold. That’s what’s important. Those two dumbasses can be taken care of later.

  “Arnold, are you okay? Where does it hurt?” I ask, looking him over for any noticeable bends in wrong places. At least in that regard, we look okay, but he’s still wincing.

  “Everywhere,” he says in a pained grunt. “What the hell was that?”

  “Stupid boys playing stupid games over a woman,” I admit. “And an HR problem.”

  “Dumbasses.” He shakes his head in disappointment and winces, hissing sharply. “Shit. Neck.”

  “Don’t move,” I tell him sternly. “The ambulance will be here soon.”

  “I’ll get some ice,” Megan volunteers, turning and walking quickly for the breakroom.

  Stephanie gives Megan’s back a look. “What for?” she asks no one in particular. “Keep him still.”

  Putting my hand on Arnold’s chest to remind him to stay still, I look over at Steph. “Can you check on her? She might be losing it.”

  Stephanie nods and follows Megan. A moment later, Daniel takes a knee beside me. Even his presence is reassuring, and both Arnold and I calm down.

  By the time the paramedics arrive, Arnold is back to his gruff self, but he lets them look him over and load him onto a stretcher for the trip to the hospital.

  “This is ridiculous. I’m fine. And you’ve made me late for my next delivery again, Tiffany,” Arnold snips.

  Holy shit, he knows my name! I mean, I certainly know his, but he’s never used mine before. And that’s after years of daily pickups with me trying to make small talk and getting bupkis in return.

  “Sorry, Arnold. Do you need me to do anything? Notify the office, maybe?” I offer.

  “Yeah, call ’em and tell ’em what happened to your favorite delivery driver—” I snort but cover it quickly by clearing my throat when Arnold glares at me. “And let them know that someone will have to come get the truck. People’s packages are gonna be late.”

  If I didn’t know better, I’d think he looks disappointed in that, like he’s truly upset that his daily deliveries might arrive twenty-four hours late.

  “I will,” I promise as the paramedics wheel him out the front door and into the ambulance.

  Stephanie and Megan are wide-eyed, and knowing that we’re not going to get anything done today, I tell them, “Thanks for the quick thinking on your feet. Why don’t you transfer the calls to one station and head home?”

  “Oh, no, we can’t leave you—” Megan starts, but Stephanie cuts her off.

  “You heard the woman, let’s go!” Stephanie shoves Megan to the desk, grabbing both their purses and doing a few quick clicks on the phone system. “We’re out, Boss!”

  Daniel sends Ricky and Billy upstairs, and Mr. Yuri and Ms. Maloney left for their respective departments an hour ago to start working on the Mark and Brandon issue. Finally, it’s just me and Daniel, who stayed and led through all of it. He’s holding up well despite all the madness, but I know this was hard on him. The stress is showing in the frown lines around his pressed lips and the coldness in his eyes.

  “So, what now?” I ask him, falling into my office chair in exhaustion. “I know you must have a dozen other bits of fallout to deal with on this.”

  He comes closer, around to my side of the desk, but doesn’t touch me. Quietly, he says, “There are probably still people here working, especially after a day like this.”

  I smile, adding a tiny laugh of understanding. “You don’t want to risk their seeing us?”

  He nods but puts his hand out to touch mine. “For your sake, not mine. The impact on your standing could be . . . difficult.”

  “The gossip would be wildfire.” I gently caress his fingers as he does the same to mine, the simple touch electric.

  “Everything you’ve worked for would come into question. Some would probably question your sanity for being with an old man.”

  I’m about to call him on that again, maybe remind him of how not-old he was last night, but he winks at me. He’s teasing. After everything that happened today, he’s still himself . . . with me.

  “Honestly, I don’t care at the moment, but I get your point. So . . . your place tonight? I’ll cook dinner so you can relax. You need it.” I look out my office door to the now empty floor and still open conference room door. “What a fucking day.”

  Daniel sighs, trusting me enough to let down his guard and show that he’s tired too. “I’m sorry, but I need to work late and handle all this. I want it over with as soon as possible.”

  I stand up, fixing my skirt. “I understand.”

  Before he can react, and because I honestly couldn’t give two shits about office gossip or who might see us, I lean forward and kiss him tenderly, if a bit chastely, on the lips. This is not a precursor to hot, wild sex. This is comfort, softness, a reminder that he can lean into me and I’ll be here for him. Always.

  He returns the kiss, cupping my face and sweeping a thumb over my cheekbone. We lean into each other, pressing our foreheads together, and he whispers, “Thank you.”

  I smile and cup his face back. “You’re welcome. My love.”

  He draws strength from my words and clears his throat. “My love.”

  That makes today’s whole shit show worth it.

  Chapter 23

  Daniel

  The sun goes down, the sky darkens, and moonlight slowly illuminates my office, but other than my desk lamp, I leave the lights off. I don’t want it. I sent everyone home hours ago, but for me, work’s not done. So here I sit, alone in my office.

  Same as I’ve done for years. But now, it feels different.

  Emptier. For the first time since I can remember, I know there’s someplace else I want to be, someone else I want to be with.

  But the more I focus on Tiffany and how much I’d rather be with her, the longer it’s going to be until I can get there. So instead, I pour myself a scotch and stare out the window to the valley below as I sip it, trying to refocus.

  It’s amazing how much things have changed, I think. When I started here at Fox, the shallow canyon and valley below were pitch black at night for miles, with the glow of the city barely peeking over the hills beyond. On weekends when I’d come in, you could sometimes hear kids on dirt bikes buzzing through the canyon, chasing each other and scaring the hell out of the occasional rattlesnake.

  Now? Well, the close-up canyon is still black. The property is owned by Fox itself, after all. But just beyond that, I can see a light from a gas station, and a little further, the lights of the subdivision that was built right about the time I took over the CEO suite. And in daylight, you can see the gap between the subdivision and the gas station getting filled in with more construction. The city’s slowly expanding to swallow Fox up.

  But the glass’s reflection of the room behind me lets me know it hasn’t all changed. This has been my domain for years now, a haven to steer this ship of a company into the next phase, time and time again. It’s my comfort zone, my sanctuary, but also where I feel the weight of the leadership most acutely. In here, it’s only me and my responsibilities to Fox.

  In the darkness, I see a small circle of light moving right and left, obviously Mac doing a walkaround. Normally, Mac’s the type to hit the switches as soon as he can, though. Maybe there’s a light out? I squint, trying to get a better look, but I can’t make it out.

  I flip off my desk light and look again, and the light bobs some more, flashing on and off twice. It looks like a . . . flashlight signal?

  What the fuck?

  The light starts to wave around, in circles and sweeping arcs, and even spinning. Unless Mac is fighting off coyotes down there, I’m pretty sure it’s not him because I think whoever has that flashlight is . . . dancing in the moonlight?

  It’s then that it hits me. I know who it is.

  It’s Tiffany. She came back for me.

  I get up and leave my office, taking the stairs down to the first floor where there’s a side door. I open it carefully, calling out, “Tiffany?”

  It occurs to me then that I might be a victim of wishful thinking. What if it’s Mark or Brandon out here trying to break in? I probably should’ve called Mac to do a check instead of coming out here alone.

  Thankfully, my gut is right again and I hear Tiffany’s squeal of delight. “You came! How did you know I was here already?” She runs up to me, and in the sliver of light from inside, I can see that she’s wearing jeans and an olive sweatshirt with ribbon lacing on the shoulders. It looks soft and cozy.

  She looks soft and cozy, and I want to fall into her.

  “I saw the light dancing,” I explain. “Weren’t you trying to get my attention?”

  She laughs, the sound bright in the dark. “I wasn’t dancing, I was setting up your surprise. Come here.”

  Tiffany takes my hand easily because there’s no one left here to see other than Mac, and we’d hear him coming a mile away. Curious, I let her lead me down the slope of the canyon to a set of flagstone steps. “Elle and I found this spot years ago, but I’ve never seen anyone else use it. We used to call it our secret hideout, and I thought that might be exactly what you need tonight.”

  “A hideout?” I echo.

  “Yep . . . Ta-da!” she sings, holding her hands out wide, inviting me to look around.

  It is a perfect secret hideaway spot. The surrounding grass is tall, at least knee-high, but there’s a small pocket where its trimmed short like a front yard, and a large, flat triangular rock makes for the perfect perch or makeshift table, which is what Tiffany’s done. She spread a blanket on the rock, setting out boxes of fried chicken from a local drive-thru joint.

  “This is amazing,” I tell her earnestly, sitting down on the blanket and looking at the view from here. Without the separation of the glass, the valley seems bigger, deeper, and darker, but so does the night sky.

  “I’m glad you like it,” she says as she sits down beside me, and I can feel the importance of her sharing this find with me. “I got us dinner too, but I figured after a day like today, we needed a treat. No salads or sushi. We need grease and fat and yummy goodness, so fried chicken, coleslaw, and sweet tea.”

  I think my arteries clog from just the words, but my mouth waters. She’s right, we deserve this after dealing with today.

  “Let’s eat while it’s hot.” She opens her box, going for the biscuit first, and I open mine, choosing the chicken breast to bite into. “Mmm,” she moans around a mouthful of white crumbs, some of which are spilling out onto her sweatshirt. “FYI, Stephanie and Megan conference called me earlier. When they left, their walk to their cars was basically a repeat of ‘oh, my God, what happened?’ and ‘do you think Tiff will tell us?’ By the time they got home, they called each other and then called me. I gave them the basics of what happened, mostly so that they’ll be prepared if Mark or Brandon show up. As the front line of the building, we need to know who to look out for and when to sound the alarm.”

  “Better from you than from the rest of the rumor mill. I trust you one hundred percent, though the idea of your being on the front line makes me nervous. I think I’ll ask Mac to stay close to the main doors for a bit just in case, so he can look out for you.”

  She doesn’t argue. She doesn’t try to convince me that if Mark or Brandon came in with a bone to pick, she’d send them on their way with that bone lodged in their ass. That lets me know that she appreciates the gesture.

  We eat, the moonlight illuminating everything. It’s beautiful, and from here the curve of the hills blocks the light of the gas station and subdivision. It feels like just me and Tiffany, sharing a romantic moonlit picnic.

  “Thank you,” Tiffany says after a few minutes, “for trusting me. I know that’s . . . hard for you.”

  “I know I’m not wired like most men,” I admit, “and I’m a handful to deal with. But you’re special, Tiffany. Patient, fiery . . . forgiving. I can’t help but love you.”

  “You forgot something,” Tiffany says, smiling in the moonlight. “I’m hot as fuck, too.”

  I laugh softly, rubbing her nose with mine. “Yes, you are.”

  With every bite, I feel like I’m getting to breathe more deeply. Stress flows out of me with every chew of my coleslaw, and after taking a long drink of lightly sweetened tea, I sigh happily.

  “I look at this scenery every day and never once thought of doing this,” I tell Tiffany, reaching out and taking her hand. “Thank you.”

  “You said you had work to do,” Tiffany says, giving my hand a squeeze back, “and I’m on board with that. But you have to take care of yourself too.”

  “Is that what you’re doing?” I ask her quietly. “Taking care of me the way you do everyone?”

  Tiffany wiggles around until she’s between my legs, leaning back against my chest. I wrap my arms around her hips, laying my hands on her thighs. The feel of her body against mine is just what I need, and holding her is a slice of paradise.

  “Of course I’m taking care of you right now,” she admits, putting her hand over mine, “But you take care of me too. I think that’s what we’re supposed to do. What love is, and what a good relationship is. It’s not always 50/50, it’s 100/100 most of the time. But sometimes, it’s 100/0,” she says, patting my hand before patting her head, “and when you need something, I’m here. And when it’s 0/100, you’re here for me.”

  “When was it 0/100?”

  “I do believe you not only mopped up dog water for hours, but then washed me and tucked me into bed instead of giving me some midnight booty call,” she points out. “You gloriously got me coffee and food . . . and then booty called.”

  I laugh, inhaling the scent of her hair. “I like your booty.”

  “Good, because it definitely likes you,” she admits, squirming in a way that makes her booty rub up against me.

  We’re quiet for a moment, enjoying each other and the stars. Tiffany breaks the silence with a question. “So, today was a lot, but skipping over the crazy craziness of ninety-nine percent of it, can we talk about the last part? The part in my office?”

  “Being open?” I clarify, and she nods.

  “You said that it’s to protect me, but in case you haven’t noticed, I don’t usually give a fuck about other people’s opinions of me. I do what I want, when I want. Mostly.”

  “That’s true, mostly,” I agree, “but consider it carefully. Like I said earlier, it will change how people see us both, especially at first. There will be more Pauls and people judging us, thinking they know something about our relationship that they don’t.”

  “So we’ll show them. Or tell them. Or tell them to fuck off,” Tiffany replies sassily.

  I laugh at her easy confidence. “We do need to talk about Elle, though. How much have you shared with her? Because I won’t love you behind her back. I don’t need her permission, but I do want her to know from both of us.”

  “Already taken care of,” Tiffany assures me. “She’s known since . . . well, the first time I met you, honestly. But when I decided to chase you, I made sure she was okay with it.”

  “What?”

  “You think I’d go behind her back? She’s my girl, so no way would I do her dirty like that. What about you?”

  New tension works through her muscles, replacing the relaxed chill of a moment ago.

  Repeating her words, I say, “You think I’d go behind her back? I talked to her ages ago too.”

  We look at each other in the moonlight, realizing that Elle is probably the best secret keeper anyone could have. A private conversation with her is locked behind a firewall, with no shared connections, not even between the people we’re talking about.

  “So, I’m good to scream from the rooftops . . . I love Daniel Stryker! And he loves me too! Especially my booty! Booty . . . booty . . . booty . . .” She mimics an echo, and the teasing tone of her laughter is infectious, bringing a smile to my face a split second before I’m laughing too.

  “I think we can leave out the booty part. Telling people we’re together is one thing. Telling them what we do is quite another. That part is just for us.” My voice goes dark and husky, and I press a kiss to her neck.

  “Mmm. I like that.”