Page 129 of Full Mountie

And when he gets up and silently pulls on his jeans, I hold my breath. I hold it until he leaves, until the too-loud click of the lock promises he’s gone—tauntingly, because what was I expecting?

That’s when I let my breath out, and the tears follow.

45

Lachlan

Once again, I’m across the country from Beth—and Hugh, the grumpy ass—and I’m antsy to get back to Ottawa.

Gavin, however, is enjoying his Sunday afternoon at home. His real home, in Vancouver, in the heart of his riding. His father bought him a new charcoal grill as a wedding gift, and he’s got it fired up.

Ellie opens the slider and steps onto the deck. She’s got a yoga mat bag slung over her shoulder, and one of my men trailing behind her. “I’m off,” she says, pressing up on her tiptoes to give Gavin a kiss.

“Have fun at yoga, wife.”

She grins. “Will do, husband.”

Yeah, I’m definitely ready to head home.

Ten minutes later, another member of my team comes to the backyard. “Excuse me, sir, but there’s a visitor here to see you. Jack Benton.”

Gavin frowns and rubs his jaw. “Sure, send him back.”

The owner of the Vancouver Lumberjacks strides onto the deck a minute later, and Gavin extends his hand. “Jack, good to see you again, and so soon.”

Benton grins. “Had a fantastic time at your wedding.”

“Was our scotch up to snuff?”

“Decent enough, thank you.”

Gavin glances at me. “Have you met Lachlan Ross, my chief of security? He’ll be sticking around for this conversation.”

“Yes, a few times.” He shakes my hand, then glances back at Gavin. “I’ve never known you to need a chaperone.”

Jack says it with a laugh, but Gavin’s not kidding around.

“Just keeping this strictly friendly. I am glad to see you again, but the timing is curious given my upcoming trade agenda and your scheduled visit to my office. When the press asks me about your impromptu visit to my house—and they will—I want to be crystal clear we didn’t talk business out of turn.”

“Ah.” Jack clears his throat. “Right. That’s going to make what I say next kind of awkward.”

“Don’t do it.” Gavin frowns. “Come on, man. You know I’m being raked over the coals about pay-to-play politics. Just because we go back nearly twenty years doesn’t mean I can make an exception for you.”

“I’m selling the team.”

My eyebrows hit the roof. Whoa. I’m a die-hard hockey fan, and I didn’t see that coming.

Apparently, neither did Gavin. “Wow.”

“So I am here to lobby you. But not about sports.”

Gavin groaned. “You know I wasn’t worried about that. How about a beer? Tell me more about the sale.”

“I’ve put the lumber yards in a blind trust, too.”

Gavin gives me a pained look. “You’ve heard me trying to tell him to shut up, right?”

I step forward. “You want me to toss him out?”

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