Page 49 of Too Safe

He leads the way, pushing through a door I haven’t explored past and into what I now realize is a dining room.

All talking ceases when we enter. Four sets of eyes land on me, only three of which I recognize.

“Kylian. Good of you to finally join us. Although you probably could have left your groupie upstairs.”

My cheeks flush as I eye the woman at the head of the table. She’s older than us by about ten years, sharply dressed in a crisp white sleeveless dress, and her hair slicked back in a tight bun.

“Misty, this is Josephine Meyer. Josephine, this is Misty, our PR rep.”

Misty lets out ahmphand plants her hands on the tabletop like she’s ready to stand. “Do we need to take this elsewhere, then?” Her question is aimed at Decker.

He meets her gaze head-on. “No. Proceed. Josephine will be staying here for a while and will be attending NIL appearances for the foreseeable future.”

What? That’s news to me.

Obviously to Misty, too.

“Decker,” she purrs, her tone soft and placating in a way that tells me it usually gets her what she wants. “I doubt I can get her clearance for half the events on—”

“You’re the best in the business, Misty,” he interrupts, crossing his arms over his chest and sitting straighter in his seat. “I know you’ll make it work.” His declaration leaves no room for argument.

She looks me up and down, like she’s sizing me up. My neck goes hot at the inspection. Primarily because I’m wearing Kylian’s basketball shorts rolled several times with a pair of knee-high socks and the same LCU crewneck I’ve been rocking all weekend. I’ll be so damn happy to have my own clothes later today.

Misty passes folders to Decker and Kendrick, then opens one of her own and takes out a stack of documents. Kylian and I take our seats on the side of the table where Locke is stationed.

“Good morning,” he whispers, shifting in his seat so he’s facing me a bit more and knocking his knee against mine. His plate is still piled high, filled with mostly fruit and protein. He must have gotten in here just a few minutes before us. “You doing okay today?”

I stuff a piece of bacon in my mouth to give myself a moment to eye him warily before I respond.

The incident at the base of the stairway comes back to me as he studies me with a soft expression on his face. Honestly, I probably wouldn’t have made it past the security bros had it not been for him. And if that had been the case, I likely would have passed out right there in front of half of LCU.

Despite how angry I’ve been with him, I have a decision to make. Do I want to spend the next few months salty as fuck and trying to punish Locke? Or should I apply the logic I’m using with Kylian and use our shaky bond and his inherent kindness to make this whole ordeal more tolerable?

Decidedly, I nod.

“I’m okay. Thanks for helping me last night.”

His face lights up in one of those dazzlingly disarming smiles I found so damn sexy a few days ago.

Ugh. Who am I kidding? It still makes me swoon. It’s just a more guarded, cautious swoon now, because swooning sucked me in, chewed me up, and spit me out last week.

A throat clears at the head of the table, garnering my attention.

Misty packs up files, sticks them in an expensive-looking briefcase, and rests her hand on Decker’s forearm in a familiar, almost intimate touch.

Decker’s answering smile is civil. Professional. A practiced response that tells me this isn’t the first time he’s had to play nice to get his way.

Misty bends forward, flashing us all a glance down her dress, and whispers something to Decker. Then she turns on her heel and shows herself out.

I’m still looking toward the head of the table when Decker turns and sets his sights on me—onyx irises boring into me with calculated focus. The shift is disarming, sending a shiver quaking through my body before I can stop it. His eyes narrow when I refuse to look away, despite the visceral reaction he commands.

Not three seconds pass before Kendrick shoves up from his place at the table. The scraping of the chair snaps me out of whatever the hell kind of connection had my attention locked solely on my captor. I finally blink, and Decker looks away.

“Hold up, K,” he calls after Kendrick. Then he peers back down the table in our direction. “Locke. Are you coming with us to the Boatyard this afternoon?”

Locke’s gaze shifts to me for just a flash before he turns back to his fearless leader.

“Wasn’t planning to, but I can.” His response is drawn out, his tone softer than normal, less playful. I barely know the guy, but if I had to guess, something isn’t right.

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