Right Man, Right Time (The Vancouver Agitators, #3)(116)

I nudge his shoulder with mine playfully and say, “I don’t know. Probably try to catch up on schoolwork. Watch the games with Ross now that he’s an addict. Work out of course. Not too much.”

“Are you behind on schoolwork?”

“Just a little. I’m not one who likes to procrastinate. It’s why it really bothered me to take so long on that article for Roberts. I just like to get my stuff done and not have it hang over me. But ever since I started seeing this guy, he seems to consume a lot of my time.”

“Hmm, he sounds like bad news.” Silas takes a bite of his sandwich.

“Yeah, he’s not too bad. But I figured the best time to catch up is when you’re on your away trips. Kind of works out nicely. Spend time with you, catch up on schoolwork.”

“Are you going to be going out?”

He’s fishing for information, and I don’t know why, but I find it endearing in a weird sort of way.

“Are you asking if I plan on going out to clubs and dancing the night away while my boyfriend is gone?”

“You said it,” he says, and I know he’s joking, but there’s also a layer of insecurity inside him. He might trust me, but he still battles that niggling doubt. So I make it easy on him.

I press my hand to his and say, “I don’t plan on going out, not without you.” He glances up at me, those ice-blue eyes piercing my very soul, and I have this overwhelming sense of affection for him. Consuming and almost paralyzing because, at this moment, I know . . . I know I love him.

My heart is screaming at me to say it, to tell him how I truly feel. But my brain is slamming on the brakes. It might not be the best idea, not when he still seems a touch flighty and not sure of himself. I don’t want to scare him away. That’s the last thing I want.

“If you wanted to go out . . .” He pauses and swallows. “That’s your choice, and I’d be fine with it.”

I set my sandwich down and face him. “I appreciate that, but just so you know, I don’t need that in my life. I have you now, and that’s all I need. So don’t worry about me when you’re gone, okay?”

He nods and then lets out a deep sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m still trying to regain that sense of trust.” He presses the heel of his palm to his forehead. “Sarah really fucked me up.”

“I get it, and I have no problem being patient while you figure it all out. But I need you to know something about me, Silas. I hate cheaters, so I’d never become one. I’m with you, so in my mind, that’s that.”

He presses his finger under my chin and brings me in close. He stares at me for a heartbeat, and for a moment, I almost think he’s going to say exactly what I’m feeling—it seems like it’s on the tip of his tongue—but then he closes the rest of the space between us and kisses me lightly on the lips.

“Thank you for understanding me.”

“No need to thank me,” I say as I grab my sandwich. “We understand each other, hence this giant sandwich in my hands. You know what I like.”

“I do.” He smirks. “Sandwiches, pickles, and my cock.”

“In precisely that order.”

His brow raises, causing me to laugh. “That exact order?”

“Yup, that exact order.”





To: Ollie Owens

From: Alan Roberts

Subject: Article

Miss Owens,

Your article has been reviewed and although it was not what we asked for, we’ve deemed it adequate. It’ll be published in the next few days.

Please note, you have gained credit for your internship, although barely. I suggest in the future, when you’re given an assignment, you execute it correctly.

As for your internship for the rest of the year, it is up to you if you would like to stay. I have other candidates more than happy to come back to the office for experience, candidates more willing to listen and execute assignments properly.

If you’d like to move forward, I suggest we have a conversation about advancing your career and what that takes.

Sincerely,

Alan Roberts

I read the email a few more times, my heart pounding in my chest.

I passed, but . . . Roberts is also not happy, and if Roberts is not happy, then that means I could be fucked. Future employers will see his name on my résumé, they’ll call for a reference, and if he tells them that I’m not a team player or that I don’t listen to instruction, that could be very bad.

I press my hand to my forehead in distress. Sure, it was a long shot that he’d like the article, given he wanted something else from me, but I wasn’t expecting such a negative, scathing response.

Needing to talk this through in private, I quickly make my way to a conference room, lock the door, and dial Ross’s number.

On the second ring, he answers, “Hey girl, I was just about to text you. Those cider donuts you like are back in stock at the store. Want me to grab you some?”

“Uh, sure,” I say, my voice shaky.

“What’s wrong?” Ross asks, clearly able to read me so well.

“Roberts emailed me.”

“Oh shit, did he not like the article?”

“He claimed it was adequate. I passed and got a credit for the internship.”

“Well, that’s a good thing.”