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I snatch my phone off the table, slipping out the door. As soon as the door closes, I breathe a sigh of relief. The wall between us helps me clear my head long enough to send Hudson a quick text that it’s time for work. As soon as he steps off the elevator, I head in his direction. We pass with a couple nods. No need discussing what he already knows.
I glance down at my watch. Ten o’clock. The bus leaves in three hours and I need to run this sexual frustration off. Because if it’s bad now, wait until I’m on a bus, not able to touch her for ten fucking hours.
First, I have a stop to make. The wooden door shakes under my knuckles. I wait five seconds before knocking again. He’s in there; grumbling on the other side gives him away.
“If you work for me, you’re fired,” Graham mumbles, half awake, swinging the door open. His eyes widen when they meet mine. I stand there as his gaze works its way down and back up. It’s a good thing I like the guy. “Max, to what do I owe the pleasure?” His voice softens.
Fucking, finally.
My smile widens at the relief in my pants.
“Thanks, G,” I say, patting him on the back as I walk into his room.
“And what exactly are you thanking me for?”
I wave him off. “Just for being you. Grab your shoes, we’re going running.”
“Excuse me?” He runs his hand through his hair. “I didn’t hear you right. You want me to go running after getting only...” He pauses, looking around the room for the clock. I point to the microwave and his head whips to it and back. “… Five hours of sleep.”
“I only got three. I win. Get your shoes on.”
“What if I don’t like to run?” He crosses his arms.
Bullshit. “You ran the Los Angeles marathon three months ago.”
His mouth drops open. “Many people do marathons just to say—”
“That was your fifth one this year.”
“You are mildly invasive.” I shrug a shoulder. Yes, I am. There is nothing mild about it. Especially for the people Sydney surrounds herself with. “Fine. But only because I had that extra dessert last night. Not because you’re commanding me to.” He mumbles to himself all the way to the bedroom. I survey the room as I wait. Shoes lined at the door, not one crooked or out of place; files stacked perfectly on the sofa table next to two pencils side by side. I glance at the closed door and chuckle to myself. I’m an asshole. Walking over to the table, I flick one pencil so it’s resting in a V formation. Let’s see how long it’ll take him to see it. I give it less than a minute.
I lean against the wall, irritation grows the longer he takes. This was a dumb idea. “Graham, you don’t have to dress nice to go running,” I yell, tapping my head against the wall. “I don’t have all day.”
“Well, I don’t roll out of bed looking like Thor,” he says, walking out of the room, pointedly staring at me.
I chuckle at the Marvel character reference. It reminds me of my brother. He’s called me that a time or two. Fuck! I didn’t want to think about my brother right now. He still hasn’t turned up and his team is clueless. It’s like he’s vanished. My next call is Aiden. Maybe the FBI knows something we don’t.
“Are you just going to stand there all day?” Graham snaps, pulling me out of my thoughts.
I yawn and stretch my arms. “Yeah, I’m kind of tired. I’m gonna skip and go back to bed.”
His expression is priceless. The vein in his neck pops out. “What!”
I shuffle past him, shaking my head. “I’m kidding. Let’s go.”
“Oh! You’ve got jokes.” He laughs without humor as we walk down the corridor. While waiting for the elevator, he says, “Thanks for moving my pencil.”
I turn in his direction. “I’m not sure if I’m impressed or disappointed. I had you pegged as a classic case of OCD.”
“Why do you think I run?” He smirks as we step into the elevator. “And thanks to you, I’ll be quicker today so I can fix the problem. Hope you can keep up.” The challenge in his voice is everything I need right now. “How far we running?”
“At least ten miles.” I hope that’ll be enough to tire me the fuck out for the day.
His eyes snap to mine in surprise. “Aren’t you ambitious.”
Nope, I’m sexually frustrated.
As soon as my feet pound the pavement, the Sydney energy built up inside me, turns into fuel to keep me going. We don’t talk the first half hour as we wind around a paved trail close to the hotel. The cool brisk morning air in Des Moines makes the run tolerable.
