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“I’m so sorry about that, Mr. Sparrow. I’ll give her a key now.”
“Hey. Aren’t you going to ask for his identification?” Brinkley asked as she turned around to face me, wrapping her arms around my neck with a wicked grin on her face.
“I, um, oh my gosh. You are…” the front desk lady sputtered as recognition set in, and she whispered. “Lincoln Hendrix.”
I reached into my back pocket and pulled out my wallet, handing her my fake ID. “Captain Jack Sparrow, ma’am.”
Brinkley gaped, and I handed her the other ID. She looked down at it.
“Sweetheart Sparrow?” she said over a fit of laughter.
“You left before I was able to give it to you.” I winked as the woman behind the front desk handed me back my ID, along with the room key for Brinkley.
“I’m sorry about all that,” she said, winking at my girl. “Power of the woman, Mrs. Sparrow.”
“That’s Sweetheart to you, Bailey.” Brinkley chuckled, and I intertwined my fingers with hers and led her down a hallway a few feet away.
I pressed her up against the wall. “I missed you, Mrs. Sparrow.”
“I missed you, too.”
My hand found the side of her neck, my thumb tracing along her jaw. “You here to stay this time?”
“I am.” A tear ran down her cheek. “I’m sorry for leaving. I just needed some time to figure everything out. I was embarrassed and humiliated by what you saw that day. But I shouldn’t have run.”
“Nothing to be embarrassed about, baby. I love everything about you, aside from your stubborn ass.”
“This ass?” she asked, pointing toward her backside.
“That’s the one.”
She tugged me down, and my mouth covered hers. Her lips parted in invitation, and my tongue slipped in.
Goddamn, I missed everything about her.
Our breaths were coming hard and fast, and I pulled back, my forehead resting against hers.
“Come on. I want you to tell me everything. Let’s go upstairs.”
Easier said than done. We were alone in the elevator, and my mouth was on hers once again. Once I got her into the room, I pulled her onto my lap as I sat down on the couch.
“Wow. This room is much nicer than mine,” she said as her gaze moved around the large suite.
“You have a fucking room here?”
“Well, I flew in late last night. I’m staying at a dump up the street. But it’s my dump, and I like it.” She raised a brow. “Not really. I hate it. I was trying to be independent. I had things I needed to do before I came here today.”
“Tell me.”
“Well, for starters, that dick weasel, Lou Colson, called me—well, he calledBailey Reynolds.” She rolled her eyes. “He had a change of heart and was suddenly willing to do whatever it took to hire me. It was all a ploy to get to you. I shut that guy down so fast. I shouldn’t have taken out my frustration on you.”
I wrapped my arms around her as she told me everything. How she’d spent the last few days on the shore, figuring out what she wanted out of life. How she went to the interview today and killed it. How she’d sold my story toFootball Livebecause it was the right fit for that story but not for her.Strive Forwardmagazine felt right. She’d made her own rules, and they’d respected them. And then she told me about the rules she’d laid out for them.
“Wait. So, you aren’t ever going to interview me again?” I pouted as she ran her fingers through my hair.
“Nope. And I also spoke on your behalf and toldSports Todaythat you would never do an interview with them again.” She shrugged; she was so fucking adorable. “You see, I really am the boss sometimes, Captain.”
“Yeah? I mean, you are Mrs. Sparrow. Obviously, you’re a badass.”
