Page 119 of A Ticking Time Boss

And surprise, surprise… it’s the best pizza I’ve ever had.

TWENTY-SEVEN

“Essential Reporting: A Guide for Journalists,” I say, putting the frayed book into her brand-new bookcase. I pull another from the box. “The Count of Monte Cristo. There are some highs and lows here, kid.”

“A classic!” she calls from the kitchen. It’s an actual kitchen, too. When we first visited the rental, she’d swooned when she saw the full-sized fridge.

Thats when I knew I had her.

I pick up another book. “A Narrative History of the Free Press,” I read. “God, I’m dating a nerd, aren’t I?”

Audrey laughs in the kitchen. It’s my favorite sound. I’ve tried to lure it out over and over in the past three weeks, as many times as I can, to make up for the time when I didn’t have it in my life.

“You’re a nerd too! I caught you reading expense reports before bed last night.”

I smile down at the books I’m unboxing. She’d insisted I didn’t have to help her move, and I’d told her, in all honesty, that doing anything at all is better than not being with her.

“It’s happy reading now,” I call back. “I fall asleep with a smile on my face.”

She sticks her head out of the doorway, curls falling in bouncy patterns around her head. “So that smile had nothing to do with me last night, did it?”

I give her a slow grin back. “Oh, it certainly did.”

Her cheeks color and she looks so adorably proud of herself that I can’t help myself. “I love you,” I say.

She laughs and ducks back into the kitchen. “You said that yesterday night too! After you finished.”

I reach for another book, still smiling. Oh, I’d finished all right. Or more aptly—she’d finished me off. In her mouth. It had been surprising and amazing and she’d looked up at me with delighted surprise afterwards.

“You know what my favorite thing about this place is?” she says. There’s the rustle of cutlery as she pours it into a drawer.

“The lock?”

“No, but that’s a close second.”

“The kitchen,” I say.

“Wrong again. But that’s… a close third? No, I revise my list. The lock is number three, kitchen number two.”

“How close it is to mine, then,” I say, and put the final book in place on her shelf. Another moving box empty. She hadn’t had many, and moving her stuff from Pierce’s to the new apartment had only taken half a day.

She returns to the living room, wearing a smile and a striped apron. “Yes,” she says.

“Got it on my third try.”

“It’s close to yours and work.” She reaches up, fitting her arms around my neck, and I find her waist. I love holding her like this.

“Me and work,” I say. “Good to know we get one abbreviated point.”

“You happen to be at both places.”

“I’m a clever man.” I kiss her, a brief brush of the lips that turns lingering and sweet. “Are you happy, kid?”

Her smile is blinding. Something hurts, physically hurts in my chest. I would kill anyone who harmed her—the thought is crystal clear in my head. It doesn’t even bother me.

“I’m happier than I can ever remember being,” she says. “This place is gorgeous… and I know you pulled some strings. Don’t try to hide it from me.”

I look up at the ceiling, pretending to consider. “I promised honesty, right?”

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