“Okay, Diego’s gone.” Logan shut the office door behind him. “You sure you want to help me with this?”
“Of course.” I got up from my desk. “I’m the reason you didn’t finish.”
He winced, avoiding my gaze.
I touched his waist. “Relax. We’ve got tonight and the whole weekend. Between the two of us, we’ll get it done. I promise.”
“I know. I just feel guilty for even being in this situation. If we hadn’t blown off so many evenings and—”
“Logan.” I cupped his face and made him look at me. “You didn’t see two stacks of boxes. I didn’t see them either. If we’d known they were there, we’d have paced ourselves differently.”
“Yeah. I know. I’m just . . .” He swallowed hard. “I am so scared of screwing up this job and—”
I kissed him, and kept at it until his whole body started to relax. When I was sure he’d calmed down a notch or two, I drew back and whispered, “As long as everything is done by Monday at 0700, you haven’t screwed anything up. And it will be done. So let’s get to work.”
He held my gaze like he might argue, but then he nodded. “Okay. Let’s do this.”
If this had been some ridiculous eighties movie, “Eye of the Tiger” would have started playing, and there would have been a two-minute montage of us hoisting boxes, scowling at papers, sipping coffee, stretching, dramatically putting finished boxes aside, and then—as the music faded—both of us staring triumphantly at our handiwork with my arms folded across my chest and his arm resting on my shoulder while we gave slow, smug, eighties bro nods.
This wasn’t a ridiculous eighties movie, though, and dear sweet mother of God, I would have sold my soul to wrap this up in a two-minute montage. After three hours, we’d barely made a dent. This was going to be a long night.
While we worked, the construction crew made their usual noise down the hall. Doors opened. Boots clomped in the hallways. Saws whined. Guys cursed. I mostly tuned it out . . . which was exactly why I didn’t notice another set of footsteps until they were almost to our open door.
And I looked up just in time for Diego to walk in, his fiancé on his heels.
Diego froze.
So did we.
Mark didn’t seem fazed, but he probably didn’t realize what Diego had just walked into.
Diego took another step in, and I held my breath as his gaze slid over the boxes, the folders, and the two of us. “Somebody want to fill me in?” His tone warned against any smart-ass response.
“Um.” I cleared my throat. “We—”
“I fucked up.” Logan’s chair creaked as he sat up, and he put down the record he’d been working on. “There were a couple of stacks I completely overlooked, so we’re—”
“You guys told me this was done,” Diego said flatly. Mark’s eyes widened, and he took a subtle backward step.
“I know,” Logan said. “I . . . I didn’t want to freak you out when I realized the problem, so we came in tonight to fix—”
“You lied to me about something that could blow the entire inspection?”
Logan opened his mouth to speak, but I beat him to it: “That was my fault.”
They both turned to me.
Mark coughed quietly and touched Diego’s arm. “I’ll be in the car.”
Diego nodded, but didn’t look at him. He was too busy drilling into me with his eyes.
I steeled myself. “I knew you were stressing like hell over the inspection, and I also knew we could get this done over the weekend. Didn’t seem like you needed the extra stress when we had the problem taken care of.”
“So . . . you lied to me?” That low growl made my neck prickle.
“I’m sorry,” Logan said. “We’ve got it handled, though. It’ll be done before the inspectors get here.”
“I would fucking hope so. You haven’t worked here long enough to qualify for much in the way of unemployment.”
Logan blanched.
“For the record, I won’t fire anyone over it,” Diego went on. “But if we fail this inspection? I’ll be in the unemployment line with you. Which will cost me my green card.” His eyes narrowed. “Got it?”
We both nodded.
“We’ll finish it,” I said quickly. “Do you . . . do you want me to text you when it’s done?”
Diego’s lips pulled tight. With a curt nod, he said, “Yeah. Soon as you’re done, I want to know.” Then he muttered something in Spanish—never a good sign—and strode over to his cubicle. Something rattled, and a drawer banged shut. As he came out, he glared at both of us. “Get this shit done. When the inspection’s over, assuming any of us still have jobs, we’ll talk.”
Logan and I both nodded.
Without another word, Diego stormed out of the office, and we sagged against our chairs.
“Well.” Logan laughed dryly. “So much for the stealth approach.”
“I know, right?” I turned to him, and the worry was as palpable as Diego’s anger had been. “Hey.” I slid my chair closer to his cube and put my hand on top of the wall between us. “Don’t worry about it. We still have two days to finish this, and then we just have to get through the inspection. Diego will yell and scream, but it’ll be fine. Okay?”
Logan stared at the doorway where Diego had been a moment ago.
“Hey.” I tapped the wall with my nail. “Look at me.” When he did, I said, “I know you’re worried, but we’ll be okay.”
He nodded, Adam’s apple bobbing. Then he shook himself and picked up the record he’d been working on. “How about another hour, and then we go find some food?”
I didn’t like the uneasiness in his voice and posture, but really, there wasn’t much to be done right now. Our number-one priority was getting through this pile of records before Monday.
Everything else could wait.
I dropped off the last boxes to the squadrons at 0645 on Monday morning, and came back to the office just in time to see Diego and Commander Fraser shaking hands with the auditors—a Japanese man and a white lady in civilian clothes.
And we’re off.
The inspection was, as everyone had predicted, hell. It was actually worse when the auditors weren’t in our office, because without them looming with their clipboards and scowls, we were more likely to snap at each other. Tempers ran hot. Hours ran late. I didn’t even make it to the gym all week, Logan had to bail on his therapist, and sex was a distant memory. Each night, I’d collapse into bed and pass out, and admittedly, I didn’t even care if I was dropping onto the mattress beside Logan or by myself. By the time I left the office each night, all I could think about was sleep.
Thanks to some scheduling fuckups, the inspection spilled over into the next week, but by 1700 on Tuesday night, the auditors were out the door. The entire building breathed a collective sigh of relief, and I seriously considered curling up under my desk and going to sleep right there.
As promised, Diego read us the riot act, but it turned out to be a lot more subdued than either of us had anticipated. Between Diego being even more exhausted than we were, and the fact that we’d aced the training record audit, he wasn’t nearly as pissed off as he could have been. After some promises from us to be on the up-and-up with him in the future, and some promises from him to personally choke us if we ever pulled a stunt like that again, it was over.
“Oh my God,” Logan breathed as we stepped out into the parking lot, liberated at last. “I can’t believe we made it through that.”
“I can.”
He turned to me, brow creased with skepticism.
I elbowed him. “Come on. Our department’s awesome. What did you expect?”
“Chaos. Disaster.” He shrugged. “Fire. Brimstone.”
I chuckled. “Hope you weren’t disappointed it turned out to be so boring.”
“No, not at all. I almost don’t know what to do with myself now that it’s over, though.”
“Right? I mean, I’d suggest we go home and fuck like bunnies to celebrate, but honestly?” I touched his face, not caring who saw. “I’ve got about enough steam left to eat something, maybe watch some dumb TV, and go to sleep.”
“Same here.”
“So, you want to eat something, watch some dumb TV, and go to sleep with me?”
That got a smile out of him. “Fuck yes.”
“Your place or mine?”
“Mine.” He gestured at his car. “See you there?”
“See you there.”