Page 14 of Imperfect Arrangement
Thankfully, in the next few minutes, we touch down. I’m ready to make a break for it, but Quill places a hand on Captain Lick’s bag. “Do you think he’d like to come out?”
And just like that, my exit strategy goes up in smoke. I end up in the elevator with Raymond and Quill, who’s now crouched low, petting my dog as he sprawls out on his back, legs in the air, loving every bit of her attention. I can’t even blame him. Captain Lick’s a total attention sponge, and Quill is giving him her undivided adoration.
A throat clears, yanking me back to reality. My smile drops, replaced by a scowl.
“I’d like to have a word, Miss Pershing,” Raymond says, slipping right back into businessman mode.
Before I can tell him I’d rather eat every candy in existence until I’m so heavy I could crush him just by sitting on him, Quill tugs on his pants.
“Her name is Willow, Dad,” she signs, as the elevator doors open.
Raymond nods, clearly unimpressed but still agreeing for his daughter. “Alright, Quill. You wait with Grandpa Will while I talk to…Miss Willow.” He levels me with a look that screams,No running away this time.
“Miss?” I mutter under my breath, rolling my eyes. What am I, his schoolteacher?
But my irritated thoughts evaporate when I spot who’s waiting—a dead ringer for Gandalf, dressed to the nines in a tailored three-piece suit, complete with a silver beard and white hair. There’s no doubt in my mind that this is the “Grandpa Will” Raymond mentioned. It’s not that he looks obnoxious like Raymond, just that he has that polished, wealthy vibe.
Quill bounces out and immediately starts signing excitedly, recounting the Ferris wheel adventure to him, still without a single word. It’s enough to melt my irritation…until I see Captain Lick rubbing himself all over Raymond’s expensive suit pants like he’s marking his territory.
“Cap, come on, buddy.” I tug the leash. Predictably, my traitor of a dog ignores me.
Raymond stands there, amused, like he’s the most interesting tree in the park planted just for Captain Lick’s enjoyment. And while the rebellious part of me would find it hilarious if my dog went the extra mile and, say, marked Raymond’s thousand-dollar shoes by watering him, I don’t think Mr. Stone-Cold Teager would let that slide without retribution.
Another tug on the leash, and nothing. At this moment, I regret every bleary-eyed, early morning training session with Captain Lick, because all my hard work is apparently out the window.
“Dogs are great judges of character, you know,” Raymond finally comments, leaning down to offer his hand for a sniff before rubbing Captain Lick’s side in a way that makes my dog melt.
“Mine’s the exception,” I reply, crossing my arms. “I wouldn’t take his opinion of you.”
Raymond chuckles, a rich, lazy sound that somehow leaves a shiver trailing up my spine. “Go on, buddy,” he says to Captain Lick. “Only one of us needs to be scorched by her glare today.”
Captain Lick obeys, trotting toward me with the kind of obedience I can’t get when I actuallyneedit. Traitor. I’m ready to bolt, but Raymond’s voice cuts through my plan.
“As I said, I’d like a word, Miss Pershing.”
Everything freezes. My mind goes blank as his hand presses gently against the small of my back, grounding me—and igniting an unexpected warmth that lingers even after he removes his hand. I take a steadying breath, trying to shove away the bizarre reaction he’s stirring.
“No, thanks,” I say briskly, summoning every ounce of calm I can muster. “I’ve reached my Raymond Teager tolerance limit for the week.”
A faint smirk curls his lips—the one that always appears when he thinks he’s winning, which, unfortunately, makes me feel like he is. Sadistic jerk.
“As much as I enjoy your tantrums, Miss Pershing, this isn’t up for debate.”
“Listen, Mr. Teager—” I put my hands up in protest, but he catches one of them, threading his fingers through mine like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
His hand is rough, warm—not what I’d expect from someone who spends his life barking orders from behind a desk. It’s the hand of someone who’s put in the work, someone who’s earned those calluses.
And that little surprise undoes me a bit.
“It’s important.” His voice softens. There’s a weight in his tone that I’ve never heard before, a hint of something almost…vulnerable.
Raymond shuts the door behind him, and we’re standing in what looks like an empty event hall as I wait for him to say whatever he’s deemed important and private. But instead of getting straight to the point as usual, he runs a hand through his perfectly styled hair, messing it up. He starts to say something, then stops, his brow furrowing like he’s trying to find the right words but seems unsure of himself, and it’s not like the man I’ve come to know—this hesitance, this awkwardness. I hate to admit it, but it’s kind of charming that he’s suddenly so unpolished for a change.
He clears his throat, his voice low and unsteady when he finally speaks. “What…what did she say?”
“Who?” I ask, playing dumb, though the look on his face tells me he’s talking about Quill. But he stares, so I ask, “You mean Quill?”
He nods, looking, for once, like a regular, flawed human being instead of an intimidating businessman. And for reasons I can’t explain, I feel my usual sharp edges soften. Just a little.
