I’m doing squats in my home gym when my wrist starts vibrating.

I don’t bring my phone down here, but I do get notifications on my smartwatch.

When the screen reads Leslie and I notice the time, I decide she’s probably having one of her very rare meltdowns.

She doesn’t believe in waking up before 6 am, says it dulls her energy.

I re-rack the weight and press the green answer button, rubbing my face and hair with my towel.

“Take a deep breath, Lee.”

“I am taking deep breaths.” She practically yells and I hold back my laughter.

“What happened?”

“We have a shoot this morning and the model is sick. SICK! I handpicked that young woman and she has the nerve to get sick on me.” Stress is clear in my sister’s voice.

“Okay, so that’s the situation - now what’s within your control?” I keep my voice calm, making sure I don’t mirror her agitation. Leslie’s the type of person that just gets even worse if someone else’s emotions are the same. Her emotions feed on others, though she never lets her clients know that.

“I don’t know. I really, truly don’t. She was everything that Michaela wanted, and I can’t shovel in someone else who doesn’t fit.”

Bingo.

“Michaela’s going to be there for the shoot?”

“Yes!” She snaps. “This is not the time for you to worry about if you’ll get to flirt or not.”

“Keep snapping at me and I won’t tell you why I’m so brilliant.” I tease, jogging up the stairs and heading to my bedroom.

I need to be at this shoot if this is going to work.

“Hawthorne Fitzgerald James, if you don’t tell me what you’re thinking right now…” She threatens, and I shake my head, scoffing.

“So listen…”

* * *

“Absolutely not.” Mickey stares me down. “And I can’t believe I’m just being told about this at the last minute.”

“Give me a good reason why you’re saying no.” I cross my arms, leaning against the closed door. I’m basically stopping her from leaving, but I don’t feel any guilt about it because I think this is an even better option than the original one.

“Other than the fact that I don’t model anymore? Other than the fact that I don’t want to? Are you really telling me those aren’t reason enough?” She’s angry and trying her best to hold it in because that hand is tapping away at her leg. “I don’t have time for this and I…you would do this today?” She twists the fabric of her skirt in her hands and I realize maybe it’s not fully anger after all, but fear.

“What are you afraid of?” I push off the door and walk closer to her, watching her green eyes widen as she moves back.

“Don’t make this about some stupid idea you’ve gotten in that thick head of yours.” Her eyes glint. “This is about you and your sister being incredibly unprofessional and thinking your idea trumped letting me know important details on the morning of one of the most vital things this company has ever done for its advertising. I don’t have a goddamned model.”

“You do.” I encourage her softly, smiling when she meets the wall and can’t go any further. The room isn’t that big and was probably a small storage closet at one point. “And we seem to keep finding ourselves in this position.”

“You keep putting me in this position. I need to call around and see if I can salvage this.”

I tip her chin up, something that just feels natural to me now. The woman is stubborn as an ox.

She still hasn’t granted me another date, but I’m a patient man. We’ve talked on the phone at night now, sometimes until one of us falls asleep.

“Even if I couldn’t stand you, I could see the smart decision of making you the face of Bold with this campaign. You are Bold. This is your baby, your vision, and why shouldn’t you be standing right in the middle of it?”

I don’t know what I said wrong, but she closes her eyes and sags against the wall, everything seeming to go out of her.

It’s alarming. I start to open my mouth, but before I can, she does.

“I don’t know why everyone thinks I’m this fearless person.” Her voice hitches. “I’m not bold. I don’t have it all figured out. I’m just trying to…I don’t know! I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”

“Did anyone ask you to have it all figured out? Or are you putting that on yourself?”

“I…”

“What happened before we met? I know this isn’t just about you thinking I might’ve been involved with someone when you ran out that night.” I move back and lean against the edge of the small table in the room, pulling her forward by her hands so she’s standing in between my legs.

I run my thumbs lightly over her hands as I hold them, wanting her to know she can take her time.

“The last man I slept with before you was the man I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with.”

Well, I’ll be damned. Not completely what I was expecting, but I don’t want to interrupt.

She stares at our hands as she talks, and I don’t ask her to look at me even though I like watching her face when she speaks.

This isn’t about me.

“It’s my fault really, because I…walked away years ago. I thought I could come back and we make up like nothing had happened, but obviously, that’s not what happened. I was under the impression that things could be the way they used to be eventually…he was under the impression that I am not wife and mother material.”

“And you wanted that with him? To be a wife and mother?”

I don’t like hearing about her being that serious with another man. It puts an odd heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach, especially knowing that it’s part of why she’s holding back.

“Yes, just not when he first asked me to marry him. I wasn’t ready then. I was terrified.”

“So why did you sleep with me then do a 180? You were fine that night and that morning.”

I think I know, but I want to hear it from her.

“It’s stupid, but when I thought you weren’t single, it made me realize that the fact that I didn’t even check meant maybe I wasn’t long-term material. So I thought…I thought if I changed the things I do, maybe he’d…” She trails off, hands squeezing mine.

“Maybe he would change his mind.” I finish for her. “Maybe he’d see you differently.”

She nods silently, and I wish her hair was down instead of pulled back into a low twist.

“Do you want to know a secret?”

She presses her lips together and looks at me skeptically. “Are we in grade school?”

“I didn’t have nearly this much trouble getting girls to go out with me in grade school.”

“I bet. You look like everything’s always been easy for you.” She gives me a once over and I chuckle, shaking my head.

“My life wasn’t easy.”

“Are you about to give me a poor little rich boy sob story?”

That surprises me.

“You think I grew up with a silver spoon?”

“A silver spoon with grits on it, yes.” She lifts a slim brow.

“We do have a lot more to talk about then. Now do you want to hear the secret or not?”

“Tell me.”

I raise our joined hands up and spread my fingers against hers, then intertwine them and tug her a little closer.

“The woman I met that night intrigued me just as much as the one I’m looking at right now. I can’t claim to know exactly the nature of your exes comments, but I can tell you that you don’t need to change anything but how you see yourself.”

“What is it with these little pep talks.” She murmurs, eyes dropping to my lips then back up to meet my gaze. “My mom was being sappy as hell earlier this month.”

“Do you think just maybe that we see whatever you aren’t seeing right now?” I rub my nose against hers and let go of her hands to wrap my arms around her waist.

I have all the time in the world for this woman, and I don’t even care why. I don’t need to know anything but I like being around her.

“Or maybe you’re taking the same happy pills.” I can feel her breath against my lips as she speaks, but I’m not in a rush.

“You know what a good first step would be to finding your solid ground again?”

She sighs. “I haven’t modeled in years, Hawk.”

“Something tells me it’s like riding a bike. Take the step. Use this to find the middle ground between who you think you need to be and who you were.”

“Why do you believe in me so much?” There’s a seriousness in her eyes that I don’t think I’ve seen until now. “And why do you care?”

“I could give you some canned answer, but the truth is, I don’t know. I just do.” I lay my lips against her gently, not for any other purpose than to underline my words.

She opens up to me slowly, her arms coming around my neck and her body melting against mine. It feels like those weeks never passed, her mouth is as sweet as it was that first night.

“I’m going to take an educated guess and say you’re Michaela.” A male voice comes from the vicinity of the door, and I pull back leisurely, keeping my arms around Mickey.

But the minute she turns her head to the door, she untangles herself and won’t meet my eyes.

I tamp down my frustration because I thought we were making progress.

Someone else is involved, so it’s now more public. I can understand her pulling away slightly to try to keep things professional.

“Hm.” The man glances at me briefly, his face neutral. When I see him full on, it clicks to me exactly who he is.

“Liam Daniels.” I put a hand out. “Hawthorne James, everyone calls me Hawk. We’ve never met but I was a fan of your games.”

He shakes it, a small smile on his lips. “Nice to meet you, man. Do you work with Bold?”

“Here and there. Probably more than this one wants me to.” I glance at Mickey, who’s still doing that avoiding my gaze thing.

“Looked to me like things are all good here.” He laughs a little. “Anyway, I was told to grab Michaela here. That okay?”

We both turn to her, and I raise a brow. “Mickey?”

She looks at us, and I can’t figure out what the look on her face is.

“I guess I’m doing this.” She smoothes her hands over her dress and walks to the door, turning back to me. “Thanks.” She says quietly and I nod, sliding my hands into my pockets.

“Always.”

Liam gives me a little wave and follows out the door after her. Before the door closes, I see him put a hand on the small of her back and I stand straight.

What the hell is that about?