Page 77 of Leashed

He leaned into her back seat, knowing immediately the boxes wouldn’t all fit. “If you give me the name of the storage facility, I can haul them over in my truck. There’s no way we’re getting these all in here.”

She wrinkled her nose and glared at the oversized cardboard. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled as she texted him the name and address of the business. “You don’t have to go through with this.”

An odd expression crossed her face, someplace between resignation and determination as she pressed her knuckles against her chest for a moment. She stepped closer to him and gripped her keys. “I know I don’t. But something’s pulling me to do it. Fate, I guess.”

She extended her hand.

He looked down at it for a moment before taking it and pulling her into a hug. “Yeah well, one of the Fates is a vindictive bitch,” he muttered into her hair. “Trust me on that.”

“So I heard,” she murmured, her forehead dropping to his chest. “Are we good?”

Releasing her, he backed away. “Yeah, yeah, we’re good,” he grunted, a numbness creeping through him. “Don’t put up with shit and make sure you come by Bean There to hang out once in a while. You can even bring buddy-boy and I promise not to be a total dick.”

Her hair obscured her eyes as she got into her car, one hand waving at him. “A promise of half-dickery is as good as it gets,” she called without looking back at him. “See you, Bo.”

He waited until her car turned the corner before he trudged back to the entrance of the complex and began loading the unneeded boxes into his truck.

*

Sage sat inthe visitor parking of Nixon’s condominium and double-checked her makeup in the rearview mirror, using her pinky finger to eliminate all traces of her streaked mascara.

Something inside her screamed as she exited the car, another voice whispering in her ear this was where she had to be.

Hadto be.

Not wanted to be.

Fighting the heaviest of her suitcases out of the trunk first, she slung her smaller bags over her shoulder and entered the opulent reception room. By the time Nixon buzzed her up, her shoulders were beginning to ache.

But whether it was from the straps digging into her muscles or the tension she couldn’t quite shake, she didn’t know.

He stood in the doorway, propping his door open with his foot and giving her a tight smile. “I thought you were coming by earlier,” he said, moving aside so she could roll her suitcase into the entrance. “We’re supposed to be meeting with the coordinator in an hour.”

Deciding she could grab her other case later, she unzipped her boots and opened the hall closet, placing them beside his rows of polished shoes. “Sorry,” she replied on cue, shrugging her jacket off. “I can be ready in a minute. I’ll unpack later.”

Taking her overnight bag into his bathroom, she set about touching up her makeup. “Is what I’m wearing okay?”

He leaned in and looked her over. “It’ll have to do. I have a list of things we should agree on before we get there,” he said, holding up a folded paper. “We can discuss them on the way.”

She followed him down to his car, reading over the plethora of questions the coordinator had emailed him. “This is so quick,” she murmured, squinting to read the lines he had carefully crossed out and frowning at the notes he’d added. “Next month? Isn’t that, I don’t know, a little soon?”

The car swerved onto the street, cutting off a minivan. “Why would we wait? We have immediate access to the best local coordinator in the business thanks to me, a top-tier hotel willing to share their opening weekend with our wedding, and a photographer anxious to document the event for his portfolio. Luck is on our side. If we spin this event right, I can clinch a few clients and marry my dream girl all in one shot.”

Her eyes widened as he tore onto the freeway and she instinctively scanned the road for signs of an enormous idiot dog. “When did you arrange all that?”

“The night of the engagement,” he muttered, speeding up to pass a semi. “Let’s start at the top of that list and make sure to record our decisions.”

*

Bo placed theleash Dio had left behind on the top shelf and closed the door to Ryan’s closet, shutting Sage’s boxes from sight before he went into the living room. He flicked on the television, digging his knuckles into his chest to work out the knot that had taken hold hours earlier.

“Must’ve strained something,” he grumbled into the empty apartment, flipping the recliner out.

He was three episodes into a legal drama when Sage’s words pounded their way to the forefront of his mind.

But something’s pulling me to do it. Fate, I guess.

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