Worth the Risk(107)

I look over at Grayson, who’s sitting in the chair across from my desk, with his feet crossed at the ankles and his phone in his hand, and I want to strangle him. Not just strangle him, but him and everyone else in this office. Especially with that blank look on that gorgeous face of his that tells me he has not a care in his world while mine seems to be slowly falling down around me.

“This!” I point to my computer screen and then jab a finger to the office beyond mine. My staff is milling about as if there’s nothing wrong when the draft of the next issue of Modern Family on my screen says anything but. “We’re getting close to the deadline for print, and nothing’s right. Not the layout. Not the . . .” I scroll through the pages and growl—yes, growl—in frustration when, in an article about winter break activities for your kids has the word “you” randomly slapped on the page. “This stupid program. Stupid glitches.”

I sound like a petulant child, but everything with this issue has gone wrong. Everything. Including the fact that the window at Grayson’s back says it’s already dark outside and the computer screen in front of me tells me that I’m going to be missing our dinner date, which I’d been looking forward to.

“I take it there’s a problem?” His casual demeanor turns stiff. He knows what’s coming. He knows I have to cancel and is pissed. He has every right to be upset, and yet, my hands are tied . . . I have to meet my deadline.

“Yeah. A huge one.” I glance at the screen again, and the mess that seems to be on every page as I scroll through the issue. “It’s like someone took a bunch of crappy clip art and just erratically placed it all over the articles.”

Grayson takes his time standing, and it only irks me further. I get he’s off for the week. I get it isn’t a big deal to him. But, gah, this is huge to me. This is what my success is measured on. This is how I keep everyone happy who needs to be happy.

“So, you won’t be able to go to dinner, then?”

If looks could kill, the one I’m sending his cute ass right now would land him in the morgue.

“No. I won’t,” I snap, and the minute the words are out, I hang my head and sigh because I’m being a certifiable bitch and he doesn’t deserve it. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I just . . . I’m frustrated is all. I was really looking forward to our date tonight. I mean really looking forward to it and . . .”

“And things happen.” He shrugs, but I can tell he’s not too thrilled with it. “We can always reschedule . . . or I can ask the restaurant to make it to go, and I can either bring it here or we can make our own date at home in the backyard.”

I do not deserve this man.

Not in a million years.

“I just need to . . . maybe we can salvage . . .” But I know that we can’t.

“What’s this issue about?” he asks.

“This is the issue where I let the staff vote on what the theme should be.”

“I thought that was a big hit last year.”

At least he pays attention. “It was,” I say and pinch the bridge of my nose. “Except for this one, they wanted to pick weddings. Winter weddings. Why not winter wonderland activities? Ways to keep the Christmas spirit alive. But weddings? We’re a family magazine. Not Bride to Be.”

“Is that a real magazine?” Grayson asks, looking confused.

I rise from my seat and love that even though I’m stressed to the gills, he can stand here and make me love him and smile all at the same time. “Yes, it’s a real magazine. But not this one. Not the one I run.”

“So, you have something against marriage?”

“No,” I say through a chuckle. I have nothing against marriage, but it’s a topic we’ve never broached. One I never thought he wanted again after everything with Claire.

“If you’re not happy with the topic, why did you let them have a choice, then?”

“Because I’m learning . . . and I learned last year that letting them feel like they get to help with the decisions makes them more invested than the times when I make the decisions.”

“I always knew you were smart. That’s why you love me.”

And just like that—with a flash of his smile and a dash of his charm—he can erase my stress.

For a moment.

I lean forward and press a kiss to his lips. Just a hint of everything I love, fully aware that my staff is within viewing distance, before tapping him on the butt.

“Thank you. I love you. But I need you to go before you see me cry tears of frustration that I then take out on you.”

His chuckle fills the space, but the squeeze of my hand makes up for it. “We wouldn’t want that.”

“We wouldn’t.”

“That would mean no sex when you get home.”

“Oh, there was a promise of sex?” I ask, batting my eyelashes coyly.

“Mmm. Mind-blowing sex.”

“Better go home and charge the PS4 remotes so Luke thinks we’re preparing for an epic battle.”

His laugh sounds off and eases a bit more of my tension momentarily. “Does that mean you were planning on screaming my name later?”

I roll my eyes. “You’re such a guy.”

“Thank God for that.” He brushes a kiss to my lips. “You’ll get it fixed. It’s probably nothing major.” Another kiss. “And we’ll do epic sex later.”