Page 92 of Biker's Tribute: Property of Bear

“I do,” he says. “You’re willing to take a chance on me and… I won’t let you ruin this.”

“Ruin what?”

“My plan,” he says. Then he shoves his phone across the table, presumably to show me something.

“Um… what’s that?” I ask, gazing down in confusion at what looks like a real estate listing.

“I arranged a tour for you to get some new office space in Boston today.”

“Is that your big surprise?”

Ethan pauses. “Sure.”

Seems reasonable enough.

“Ethan! This place is $6,000 a month.”

“Exactly. You can get better clients. More stable clients.”

“I can’t afford that.”

“Yes you can,” he says. “I’ll sign a year lease if you like it. No strings attached.”

He can’t be serious right now.

“Look, I don’t want to hesitate,” Ethan says. “Anything can happen to me at any time. I need you looked after, even if we’re in this… in between phase…”

He means our “is it a relationship” relationship. I’ve been trying not to question the absence of labels and just focus on how he makes me feel. That’s healthy, right?

“You can’t pay for a year of my office rent.”

“I can. And I trust you will make the money back once you get established. If you want to be in Boston… I want to commit to being with you.”

“Ethan…”

“Will you just go look at it? If it feels wrong… fine.”

But I can tell that he wants it to feel right.

“I’ll go look.”

“Good,” he says. “It’s a Murray building. You should be fine without an escort.”

“What will you be doing?”

“More laundry. Anything to turn you on once you get back.”

He winks at me and I feel a flutter that goes straight down between my thighs. Why the hell would I worry about labels when just one look from this man turns me on? I screenshot the address and text it to myself from his phone.

“Your appointment with the realtor is at 10 a.m.”

Ethan’s plan doesn’t leave me much time to get ready, but it’s enough. I throw on my nicest casual outfit and take a rideshare against Ethan’s express commands, because who in their right mind would rely on the ‘T’ on such short notice?

I get there right on time and I don’t get kidnapped – thank goodness. I’m getting used to being a normal person again, who doesn’t expect a maniac with a gun to be waiting around every corner. The realtor showing me the apartment reminds me of Mallory, tugging on my heartstrings a little bit.

Ethan couldn’t have planned that much.

“I’m Orla Murray,” she says with a bright smile. “Has anyone ever told you that you look like a young Angela Bassett?”

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