Page 99 of A Ticking Time Boss

“But using a quote by the veteran who was interviewed earlier? Excellent way to end it.” Carter shakes his head. “You’re done with this article. It’s perfect.”

“If only you were my editor,” I tease, and his face lights up with a smile.

“If only,” he agrees. I reach for the mouse at the same time as he does. He lets me get it, but keeps his hand there, brushing against mine.

He takes a deep breath. “Audrey, I want to apologize.”

I close my eyes. “You do?”

“Yes. Not for my words, and not for you overhearing them. But for not being more truthful with you from the start.”

“Oh.”

“The truth is that I… well, I knew if I admitted that Acture considered selling the Globe to a vulture fund, or breaking it up ourselves, you would have run from me. It would have confirmed all your worst suspicions.”

“I might’ve,” I murmur. “Back then.”

“But not now?”

I take a deep breath. “It’s hard for me to understand the thinking. Actually, that’s not true. I can understand it all too well, and wish I couldn’t. I care so much about this newspaper and the industry, and I hate, like truly hate those vulture funds. You know what they’ve already done to newspapers around the country.”

“I know,” he says quietly.

“But I also know that you don’t share that. I mean, you and your business partners are part of the ecosystem. You keep things that work alive, and make them better, and things that don’t…”

Carter’s hand covers mine. “I want to keep the Globe running. I’ve wanted that from the start. Selling it to another hedge fund has always been a backup option, and one that helped convince my business partners it was a good investment.”

“I know,” I say. And the worst part is, I do. Because if it wouldn’t be Acture, it would be someone else. Someone worse.

“But I shouldn’t have pretended that wasn’t an option at all.”

I look down at our hands, his long fingers curling around mine. Broad, short nails rest next to my almond ones. “Carter… I really like you.”

His hand tightens around mine. “Not what I expected you to say,” he murmurs. “But I really like you too.”

“I want this to work. Despite our odd working relationship, and despite the Acture and Globe thing. But it only will if we’re honest with one another, even about the hard things.”

He’s quiet for a long time, the odd, golden color of his eyes more serious than I’ve ever seen them. “Audrey, it’s been a long time since I was honest and open with someone. Since I trusted them with the hard things.”

“I don’t know if I ever have,” I whisper, and he gives a half-smile. But I know he’s talking about deeper things. About not running from the pain, from the arguments, from the difficulty.

“But you’ve been open to it from the start. You’re yourself, kid. Always, and I admire you for it.” His thumb sweeps over the back of my hand.

“You were the one who took the first step. Asking me out, and all.”

He grins. “Back when you hated dating.”

“I still hate dates. First dates, that is.”

“Good thing we’ve already had our first, then.”

I reach for him, wrapping my hands around his neck. “I want to apologize too.”

“For what?”

“For being judgemental about this,” I say. “Like you said in the car, you’ve never hidden the fact that you’re here to make money.”

He looks down at our bodies, now angled toward one another. His voice is low. “Not at the expense of people, though. And never at the expense of your affection. We’ll talk more about this from here on out.”

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