Page 166 of Ransom

"Really?" I take a sip and give him the stink eye over the top of the can."You're saying you don't know anything about it?"

"Scout's honor." He raises two fingers in a V. I don't know much about scouts, but I'm pretty sure that's not the right symbol.

"You were definitely never a scout."

"Details." He winks, the gesture somehow both playful and evasive. "As for where I'm staying, I'm still at the B&B. I took two rooms, actually - one's set up as an office. I've got my laptop in there and about fifty pounds of paperwork spread across every available surface."

"Office?" I set my Coke down on the workbench with a soft metallic clink, my mind racing through the implications. Howdo you run a company as big as his from a hotel room? Better question, why would he? It's not convenient. It can't be. And he sure as fuck doesn't have time to waste working next to me in this garage. But he's here, and I haven't wanted to question it too deeply. Because I want him here.

I want him.

"But what about your work in Chicago? Your responsibilities? Your brothers must need you there. Maybe they're here to get you." I try to keep my voice neutral, but something about this situation isn't adding up. But maybe I'm right. Maybe they are scoping out the town, trying to find reasons why he should leave all of us in the rearview mirror.

They’ve barely gotten to know me. I wouldn’t blame them for thinking the worst about me, and wanting to take Ransom away.

I wouldn’t blame them, but I sure as fuck won’t stand by and let that happen.

"I haven't left anything behind." He leans against the workbench. "I'm in constant contact with Cara—my assistant. I spent a few hours getting stuff done before coming here. It worked pretty well, actually."

"So..." Hope flutters in my chest. "You're planning to work from here?"

"Told you I wasn't leaving." His eyes hold mine. "I meant it."

"What does that mean exactly?" I step closer."You can't just—this isn't—" I run my hands through my hair. "You have a life in Chicago!"

"I do." That infuriating half-smile plays on his lips.

"A huge company! A family who needs you! An actual office with walls and everything!"

"Yep." He takes a casual sip of his Coke.

"Stop being so calm about this!" I pace frantically between the tool chest and the workbench, my boots scuffing against the oil-stained concrete. My hands flutter uselessly at my sidesbefore I clench them into fists. "You can't run a billion-dollar company from Mrs. Winston's B&B!"

"Actually, I can. Been doing it for days now."

"That's—that's just temporary. You'll get tired of it. Of the slow internet and the way everyone knows everyone's business and—" I spin around, nearly knocking over a stack of tires.

"Blair."

"And there's nothing to do here! No fancy restaurants or clubs or whatever rich people do—" I'm all sweaty. Why didn't I invest in air conditioning?

"Blair."

I whirl toward him. "And I work all day! I can't entertain you or?—"

"Who said I need entertaining?" He sets down his Coke. "I spent the morning working on cars and flirting with you. I found it pretty fucking entertaining."

"But your brothers—" I wave my hand toward the square. I don't know how to finish the sentence. Somehow 'are out there walking around my town' doesn't seem that bad. But it's not fucking normal. Weird shit's afoot.

"Are apparently exploring the town without my knowledge." His eyes dance with amusement. "Though I really want to know why Colton's wearing sparkly overalls."

"Stop making jokes!" I slam my hand on the workbench. "This is serious!"

"Why are you trying to pick a fight with me?"

The question stops me cold. "I'm not?—"

"You are." He crosses his arms. "And I'm not biting. So why don't you tell me what's really bothering you?"

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