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It had been very stressful.

Riley’s hand closed on Saint’s arm. Kristi fell back beside Aaron, and Wheeler tickled her. Joy shone on her face, and Riley couldn’t look away from her smile.

“It’s not—I’m n—”

“It’s okay,” Saint interrupted. “You’re fine. I’m not asking for anything.”

Riley’s brow furrowed. Saint continued running his hand up and down her back, eyes soft.

“You tell me if she becomes my business, either way.” The leather creaked under them as Riley shifted, waiting for him to say more… but he didn’t. His coffee gaze held her so gently it hurt.

The couch had spider lines where it folded, some deeper than the others. “O—Okay,” she said, not quite sure what she was agreeing to. “But…we’re friends. Close friends.” It’s been an issue before.

He cupped her chin, bringing her gaze back to his. “Just ask, Ri.”

“Does this change the rules? For us?” she asked, slightly hoarse, but she forced herself to keep her chin up. Saint’s eyes flashed with the careful darkness on the last word, but his tone stayed steady. Her grip on his arm tightened, her fingers pale where they dug into his skin.

“You tell me.”

Riley shook her head, words getting caught in her throat as it dried out again. Kristi was… Kristi.

Riley turned to face Saint full on.

“I want this,” she breathed, barely audible, and loosened her grip. “Us. I don’t want anything to interfere.”

“Okay,” he said, relaxing. She hadn’t noticed how much tension had threaded through him until it was gone. She turned his hand over in hers, fingers going over the scars from Cookie, holding on as the world rocked gently with her heartbeat.

“Okay,” she agreed. Saint gave her that half-smile, and Riley traced it with her fingertips.

Chapter 25

Riley

Cookie snoozed with his head in Riley’s lap while she sat on the floor, cross-legged. She had lost first in a complex round of cards that had far too many rules. Wheeler and Aaron were arguing about said rules, and Kristi had opted out entirely.

Riley leaned against Saint’s legs, and his hand cradled the base of her skull, fingers tangled in her hair where he gently massaged. He liked her hair.

Cool fingers slid into hers, and she blinked her eyes open to find Kristi’s fingers drawing circles on her palm. “That tickles,” Riley murmured and pulled her hand away.

“Does that mean you’re awake and reasonably coherent?” Kristi’s voice drifted over, hoarse from the whisky she’d brought. Riley could smell it dancing over her lips. “No. Should it?” Riley floated in a warm haze.

“I have to tell you something,” Kristi moved closer. “It’s about the spreadsheet you sent me.”

Riley ignored the thread of urgency that started a drumbeat in her chest and tried to sink back into Saint’s fingertips. She cracked an eye open. “I don’t think that was a good idea.” Shouldn’t have sent it.

Riley needed to mind her own business and everything would be fine.

Kristi’s mouth tightened, and she glanced over to the coffee table where Aaron and Wheeler argued about the cards. Cookie huffed and rolled away, his nap disrupted.

“I was looking at it, and doing some math, and things didn’t add up. You know the column that tracks the date the invoice was submitted, not when the work was done?” Kristi asked quietly.

Riley opened both her eyes and sat up, pulling her hair down over her shoulder and out of Saint’s grip. She leaned forward. “No, and neither do you, because you deleted it after I sent it to you. You admired the organization, the coordination, and thought ‘wow, Riley is a genius,’ and then you deleted it. Because it was a confidential file.”

“Actually…” Kristi’s eyes sparkled with excitement.

“Not ‘actually,’ you know that because you’re basically a lawyer and know to delete things that don’t belong to you. Right?” Riley’s voice snapped, but she kept it quiet. Saint had joined in to referee the card match.

“Paralegal—you didn’t actually say I needed to delete it. Why’d you send it if you didn’t want me to look?”