Page 7 of Hitched to my Boss

The tension immediately returns to his shoulders. "How much time are we talking about?"

"A few weeks, probably. Maybe a month if we want to do this thoroughly."

"A month." He repeats the timeframe as if I've suggested he host a circus in his living room.

"It sounds like a lot, but most of my work will be behind the scenes. Writing, design, doing technical setup. I won't be in your space constantly."

"But you'll be here. In Whisper Vale."

"Is that a problem?"

He's quiet for a long moment, and I can practically see him weighing the costs and benefits. "Where would you stay? The nearest hotel is forty miles away."

I'd already researched this, knowing his location would present logistical challenges. "There's a bed and breakfast in town. The Mountain View Lodge. I've already checked availability."

"Mrs. Toombs's place." He nods slowly. "That could work."

Something in his tone makes me think he's not entirely opposed to having me around for a few weeks. The realization sends a little thrill through me that's absolutely unprofessional.

"So you're willing to do this?"

Another long pause. Then: "What's your success rate? With clients like me?"

"Honestly? I don't usually work with clients like you." I close my tablet, giving him my full attention. "Most of my crisis management work involves damage control for people who've made public mistakes. Your situation is different. You're not recovering from a scandal; you're trying to bridge a communication gap."

"And you think you can do that?"

"I think we can do that. Together." I stand, gathering my materials. "But only if you're committed to the process. If you're going to disappear into the mountains every time I ask you to step outside your comfort zone, this won't work."

He stands as well, and I'm reminded again of how his presence seems to fill the space around him despite his obvious preference for staying in the background.

"I need this contract," he says simply. "Not just for the money, but for what it represents. If I can't expand my client base, I'm stuck with small local jobs that barely pay the bills."

"Then we'll make it happen." I extend my hand for a professional handshake. "Partners?"

His hand engulfs mine, warm and callused and surprisingly gentle. The contact sends an unexpected jolt of awareness through me, and from the way his eyes widen slightly, I think he feels it too.

The handshake lasts a beat longer than strictly professional, both of us seeming reluctant to break the contact. When he finally releases my hand, I have to resist the urge to flex my fingers.

"Partners," he agrees, but there's something in his voice that makes the word sound like more than a business arrangement.

"I'll drive into town and get settled at the lodge," I say, stepping toward the door before I can do something unprofessional like stare at his mouth. "Tomorrow morning, wecan start with a comprehensive review of your current business materials."

"What time?"

"Is eight too early?"

"I'm usually up by five, so eight works fine."

Of course he is. I'm dealing with a mountain man who probably considers sunrise a late start to the day.

"Perfect. And Jason?" I pause at his front door. "Thank you for trusting me with this. I know having someone in your space isn't easy."

"Just... don't make me regret it."

There's something vulnerable in his voice that makes my chest tighten. Whatever happened to Jason Wallace to make him so wary of letting people close has left him cautious about trusting anyone with anything that matters.

"I won't," I promise, and I mean it.

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