Page 196 of The Heartbreaker for Hire

Her eyes dropped to the water bottle in her hand. "That's really sweet of you."

I shrugged. "Don't spread that around. I've got a reputation."

She didn't smile. My heart sank.

"Actually," she said quietly, "I'm staying."

Two words. Two little words. And suddenly I was standing in that driveway again, staring at her rental car. "You're staying?"

She nodded. "The doctor said she can't fly for at least a week. Maybe longer, depending on how she responds to the medication."

"A week."

"At least."

My heart started doing something dangerous. Something stupid. Something that felt a hell of a lot like hope. "And you're staying here, with her?"

"Of course. I'm not leaving her like this.”

"Yeah, no." I nodded. Probably too many times. " Of course."

She studied me. I tried to keep my expression neutral. It was an exercise in futility.

"So," I said, unable to stop myself, "you're staying."

"Damon."

Just my name. But the sudden knot in my stomach told me this conversation was going to take a turn for the worse.

She set the water and pretzels down beside the vending machine. "This doesn't change anything. With us."

I stared at her.

She folded her arms over her chest. "Between us, I mean."

There it was. The door slamming shut. I looked away, dragging a hand over the back of my neck. "Okay."

"Dylan found the contract."

My gaze snapped back to hers. "What?"

"The contract. He found it when he was doing repairs on the cabin."

I stared at her for a second. Then laughed. Not because anything was funny. Because apparently my brain had run out of acceptable responses. "The contract?"

She nodded, her jaw tense.

"Is that what this is about?"

"Damon—"

"I don't give a damn about the contract, Mikayla."

Her lips parted.

"I never did. Everything I said last night is true. I meant every word. I love you. I’m all in." I was handing her my heart on a platter.

She didn’t respond. Just stood there, eyes staring at the ground in front of her. The conversation stalled, leaving us stranded on either side of everything left unsaid.