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“Your tongue sticking out at me. You’re still sick, so I need to refrain from making any requests to use it.”
“Sex fiend.”
“Damn right. Go back to sleep. I’ll be back in a little while.”
“Thank you.”
He grinned. “No thanks needed.”
Chapter 8
It had been three weeks since my bout with pneumonia, and December had already settled in. I had learned a lot from Oliver during my time at Fox Asset Corporation—both about the company and about him personally. He valued my opinion, even leaving me some plans for the new buildings he was working on by the waterfront in Queens to review.
I was engrossed in the plans when I heard yelling coming from Oliver’s office. The last time I saw him, he was quietly typing away at his laptop. Curious, I pressed my ear against the wall we shared, catching bits and pieces of his conversation.
I only caught a minute before he stopped and cursed loudly. It sounded like Jonah was up to something. Intrigued and concerned, I headed to Oliver’s office and knocked softly on the door.
“What is it?” he snapped.
“It’s me,” I said gently.
“Come in.”
I opened the door to find Oliver sitting at his desk, his face bright red, chewing on the corner of his lip.
“What’s the matter?” I asked, closing the door behind me.
“Fucking Jonah. He got into some trouble on St. Croix,” he replied, running his fingers through his hair in frustration.
“I thought he didn’t have access to any transportation.”
“He stowed away on the transport boat that dropped off supplies. He’s been working well with the crew, and the foreman gave him a job to do on the roof of the crew house. Apparently, he sneaked away, jumped on the boat with a wallet full of money from one of his coworkers, got drunk, and started a fight with a police sergeant’s son at a local bar. The kid got a broken nose, and now they want to sue.”
I gasped. “Damn him. What was his excuse?”
“He said he was blowing off some steam, that I can’t expect him to be holed up on the island all the time.”
“Doesn’t he realize he’s exposing himself?” I asked, feeling a mix of frustration and worry.
“I don’t know what he’s thinking,” Oliver said, shaking his head.
“What’s your next move with him?”
“I paid off the sergeant’s son and he dropped the charges. The incident is now a misdemeanor. I told Jonah if I have to chain him to a freaking post, I will.”
“I’m sorry,” I said softly.
Oliver looked at me, his expression softening. “I want to take you to the island.”
“Where would we stay? You said it’s not nearly done.”
“We’d stay on St. Croix. After everything that’s been going on, we need a break.”
I nodded, the idea of getting away sounding incredibly appealing. “Okay. When do you want to go?”
“As soon as possible. We both need to clear our heads,” he said, standing up and walking around the desk to pull me into a tight embrace.
His warmth and the steady beat of his heart against my ear were soothing. “I’ll start packing,” I whispered, feeling a sense of anticipation and relief wash over me.
