Page 24 of Over & Out

“I’m showing you,” he says, “how little pride I have left.”

Some part of me recognizes that this statement makes me feel almost sorry for him. But it’s a gag, that’s all. An act. He’s an actor. Plus, I’m still not quite sure I’m not in some weird fever dream. He’s so close, it would be so easy to thread my fingers through that thick, dark hair. For him to lean forward and…

Oh my God.

“I really want you to stay,” Hopper says.

“You don’t even like me,” I croak, trying to get my thundering heartbeat under control. It’s sending blood to all the wrong places.

“You don’t like me more,” Hopper says. “But I’m asking you to stay, because Tru thinks you’re amazing, and she’s always right. She knows what’s good for me, and I’m not—I won’t treat you like shit. I promise. So I think—” Hopper drops his hands, then raises them again. “I think despite our…conflicting personalities, you’ll be a good fit.” He shifts, then winces. “For me. And for you.”

That doesn’t make sense. But it’s clear he’s not going to move until I say something. And as much as I enjoy the view, this is ridiculous.

“You can get up,” I say.

“Thank Christ.” He staggers to his feet, not botheringto insist I agree first. Little pebbles are stuck to his knees. “So does that mean it’s a yes?”

I fold my arms, examining him. He couldn’t have moved me with this outlandish little stunt, could he?

But it wasn’t the stunt. It was the way he said “I won’t treat you like shit.” The seriousness in those words. Damn, my bar is low.

“You know, I get along with everyone,” I say.

“Would you believe me if I say I do too?”

“No.”

“Okay, well, not everyone,” he concedes. “But despite my reputation, most people are…agreeable around me.”

“That’s because they’re on your payroll.”

Something I swear looks a little like hurt flashes over his face.

I bite my cheek to keep from saying something likeI’m sorry. Because I’m not sorry. This guy needs to learn some manners.

I take a long breath. “Okay. Listen. I don’t need this job. I have a job.” That’s not exactly true. The only way I could get Mac off my back was to tell him I quit. He couldn’t force me to stay. But he accepted like a deeply worried dad. “You come back the moment it goes south,” he said. There was no if. The unspoken words there wereand you know it’s going to go south.

I shove Mac and the Rusty Dinghy out of my mind.

Instead, I stare directly into Hopper Donnach’s crystal blue eyes, almost falling right into them. I swallow to bring the saliva back to my mouth. “I’ve never worked for someone I don’t—” I cut myself off. I almost saidI don’t respect. But that’s a little too harsh, evenfor him. I really don’t know him beyond what I’ve seen in passing. Or in tabloid headlines I glance at when I wait in line at the supermarket. “I’ve never worked for someone like you,” I amend.

Hopper’s quiet for a long moment. “I have lots of people who work for me,” he says finally. “But hardly anyone actually knows me.”

The words are cryptic, and it’s possible he means that in a way that’s trying to garner sympathy. But I don’t think so. Because as he says that, I see something flash in his eyes. I’d swear on everything I own—which, admittedly, doesn’t amount to much—that Hopper Donnach feels alone. I feel so certain about it because being lonely while being surrounded by people is so breathtakingly familiar it’s like a gut punch.

“Okay,” I say quietly.

Hopper waits patiently for me to continue. Because somehow he knows I’m going to keep going, even before I do.

“I’ll stay,” I say.

Hopper grins, his charming face back on like it was never gone. I have to look away. Like one does with the sun.

“I will do this job forTru,” I emphasize. “Since she deserves to have time at home with her baby without another giant baby needing her attention.”

Hopper nods, not even blinking at the insult. “Okay.”

Okay?That was easy. Too easy.

---