Page 10 of Almost Home
“Thanks for coming back before my lunch hour. I won’t always leave to get something, but I have to run to the bank and—”
“No problem.”
“Oh. Great. Well… see you in a bit.”
Before I reached the front door, he spoke again. Not a bit louder than he had before, despite my being farther from him.
“When you’re back, I’ve got a few things for you to review and sign.”
I smiled. “Sure. I’ll be back soon.”
Mercifully, I managed not to smile too widely or send him a dippyI clearly don’t know what to do with myselfwave. I did, however, let myself marvel at the length of that sentence—at least three times longer than anything else he’d said to me since years ago.
Despite the silly nature of those thoughts, the memories of how close we’d been, how he did talk to me back then, sent a pang of longing and regret through me so hard, my hand rose to my chest and pressed over the ache. I’d hardly spent time with him, and yet he was the same. Different and older, of course, but there was that steadiness, the surety in how he carried himself and the calm, insistent way he spoke when he reluctantly did so. It all felt so awfully familiar.
I blew out a breath, grounding myself into the spring air and away from thoughts of Wilder. They’d do nothing for me other than ratchet up the nerves I already had to beat back daily just sharing a building with him, let alone fully registering how insane it was that Wilder Saint, the man I had loved and nearly spent my life with, was now my boss.
My cheeks burned. I didn’t like to dwell on how I’d gotten to this place—emotionally, vocationally, whatever else. But times like this, I cursed myself for the choices I’d made that’d led me to lose myself. I’d taught for years and had never felt truly connected with the work, but now, it felt almost wrong, like a relic from a past life. My parents had wanted that for me, and I’d had no idea what else I’d do, so I’d walked that path without even questioning it.
Until the last few years. I’d taught consistently for the insurance and paycheck until I could move, and I’d found some long-term substitute positions here and there, but in-between, I’d taken any odd job I could in an attempt to unearth whatelsethere could be.
After running to the bank and then pacing in circles outside the building as I ate my sandwich, I reentered after twenty-five minutes.
“You’re early.”
Wilder’s voice carried down the hallway from his open door and caused goosebumps to rise on my arms. The texture and depth of the luscious sound threatened to do that to me whenever I heard it, and my body had apparently missed the memo that we needed to keep my physical response to him under wraps. After setting my purse in the desk drawer, I inched down the hall, unsure whether I should actually respond.
“Uh, yeah. Errand went faster than I expected,” I said, inwardly cringing at the overly cheery tone of my voice. I couldn’t seem to find a normal, well-regulated mode of speech with him. But then, how did one talk to a man like Wilder? Someone who’d done and seen more than I could imagine, and yet also someone I’d loved to the point of near madness, but who I’d walked away from.
He looked up from a sleek laptop and lifted his chin in a gesture I could’ve sworn meant come in. But I wasn’t about to step into his office without being sure. “Um, should I…?”
“Come in. We’ll do the paperwork.”
“Okay,” I said, relieved to have clear instructions and something to do with myself instead of trying not to stare at him. Because really, he was just…guh.He had this brawny, built look, but in a very specific way. Very different from either of his brothers, in fact. Where Wyatt was strong and Warrick was ridiculously fit, Wilder had always been as strong as heneededto be. And based on the way his biceps stretched at his T-shirt sleeves, he’d had need of a great deal of strength.
The printer behind him screeched to life and spit out page after page as he clicked and tapped on his trackpad. I wondered if maybe he didn’t realize I’d done all the employment paperwork with the temp agency already.
“Francine went over the basics. You should have copies of those.”
Without lifting his head, his eyes flicked up to me, then back down to his screen. “I do. These are NDAs and a few other things.”
I swallowed. “Non-disclosure agreements?”
He nodded, tapped, tapped, tapped, then looked up. “Yes. We’ll be dealing with high-profile clientele. Several people are already on our rosters for the next few months for various security installments and events, and in no scenario would we share any information about them or even the fact that they are our clients. You sign a blanket NDA with us, Saint Securities, in order to avoid having to sign one with each client.” He scraped a hand through his long-ish hair and then grumbled, “And even then, you’ll end up signing them left and right.”
“Oh. Okay. That makes sense.” Something niggled at me. It was stupid, and I knew it was stupid, but I had to ask. “It’s all… legal. Right?”
I knew that look—that incredulous eyebrow raising just a flash before lowering to his impervious mask. “Of course.”
“Okay. Good. I mean, of course. I just don’t know anything about this world, sorry.”
His brows tipped inward for a second but smoothed again. “No apology needed. You’ll learn. And for now, take these, feel free to have a lawyer review them if you like—I can recommend any of the Wallaces.”
My heart rate picked up. “That’s intense. But okay. Sure.”
He eyed me for a beat, then another. His gaze hung there, locked to mine for a moment too long. If it’d been someone else, I would’ve found myself looking away in discomfort, but I couldn’t break from him for anything.
The air shifted somehow, charged with an energy generated from this visual connection between us. My whole body tensed, waiting for whatever came next.
