Running For It by Allyson Lindt

Ten

Iwas always grateful I’d been born with the multi-task like a boss gene, but this morning, more than ever. As I worked through my routine at Loading Java, a portion of my mind was focused on last night. The conversation with Ramsey. What we agreed to. What came after.

Those thoughts wouldn’t be dissuaded.

In the midst of all that, I made a series of calls to local extended-stay motels. Whether the shelter moved to a new building or was just remodeled, the kids would need someplace to stay in the interim. This was the best temporary solution I could come up with. A couple of the volunteers would be on hand at all times, like they were now, and we’d make the situation work.

I breathed a sigh of relief when I found a motel willing to reserve an entire floor for us for the next two weeks. It was a great starting point.

The hours both sped by and crawled at a snail’s pace. I was in the back room, doing inventory on teacups, when I heard a voice boom from out front.

“I’d like to speak to the manager. Now.” Hunter’s tone wasn’t nearly as threatening as the words implied it should be.

A silly grin bounced onto my face, and I didn’t try to stop it as I stepped into the shop. “What can I do for you, sir?” Besides question why he was alone.

“How much for… you?”

I was surprised he asked that in front of customers and other employees. Then again, he wasn’t Ramsey. I clucked. “You can’t afford me.”

“I’ll buy you lunch.”

I screwed my face up, pretending to consider the offer. “In Las Vegas?”

“Sold.” He grinned. “You ready to go?”

“Thirty seconds.” I ducked into the kitchen, to grab my purse and duffel bag. It didn’t matter that Ramsey told me not to pack anything; I still had a few changes of clothes and an emergency dress, just in case. I joined Hunter, and we made our way out to his car.

“Ramsey’s sorry he’s not here himself,” Hunter said as he held the passenger door for me. “He’s stuck in a meeting. He’ll meet us at the airport.”

I understood that. It was disappointing to not see him now, but I would soon enough. “No big deal.”

Hunter took his place behind the wheel, and we were on our way.

“I’m curious,” I said. “What does a campaign manager do?”

He navigated lunchtime traffic downtown like a pro. “You manage Lyn’s place. What do you do?’

“Inventory. Scheduling. Opening and closing the shop. Anything Lyn tells me to.”

“There you have it.”

We both knew the work wasn’t that basic. “Anything Ramsey tells you to? Is this a paid position? Volunteer? Do you get paid to be his boyfriend?”

Hunter shot me a half-dry, half-amused look. “Volunteer. Never question that I serve him for free.” There was a hint of teasing in his voice.

“That’s fair. And don’t give me a glossed-over answer like that. You know I need details.”

“Something I adore about you.” He merged onto the freeway. “But details always depend on the situation. I make sure all the parts are clicking behind the scenes, so he can focus on the scenes. I do the hiring. Scheduling. Inventory—banners, buttons, shirts. Whatever he needs that he’s not thinking of, because he’s focused on other priorities.”

Impressive. I let out an exaggerated that’s so sweet sigh. “So dreamy. I know most people think details are boring, but the way you talk about them is so sexy.”

He tapped me lightly on the nose. “You don’t have to win me over. I’m already there.”

“I wasn’t even thinking about that. I’m serious. I like a guy who has a grasp of how many Miller for Senate T-shirts are in the back room.”

“I can’t tell you that off the top of my head or anything.”

“Uh-huh.” I let the disbelief drip from my retort.

Hunter sighed heavily. “Seventeen small, thirteen medium, thirteen large, and two XL’s. New shipment will be in Thursday.”

“See?” I asked playfully.

Hunter shook his head, but he was smiling as we pulled into the airport. He opened his mouth, and his phone rang, cutting him off. “You okay if I take this?”

“Of course.”

I listened to Hunter’s half of administrative details. I’d meant what I said—most people would find this boring, but I adored how on top of things he was.

As he talked, he turned the car toward a part of the airport I wasn’t familiar with, and parked us in an empty lot.

Security was nothing like I was used to. We were in and out in just a few minutes, and walking out the gate, to climb a short set of stairs to a small jet.

I stalled in the plane’s doorway. I’d never seen something like this in person—it was straight out of the movies, with the leather and wood and so much space for an airplane. Yeah, Ramsey and I had traveled a few times when we dated, and I thought First Class was opulent. But this was the family jet, and he hadn’t had access to it back then.

I guess he’d earned it.

“Hey.” Ramsey’s greeting jarred me from my awe. “Sorry I had to meet you here.”

Hunter stepped around me. “’S’all good.”

“Totally fine,” I said. Sometimes work demanded a little extra time and responsibility.

“Hey, handsome.” Ramsey tugged Hunter in for a long, heated kiss.

That he reached for Hunter first stung, but Goddess was it amazing to watch.

Ramsey let Hunter go, and turned to me. “I’m glad you’re here.” His voice was low and smooth. He brushed his lips over mine, lightly enough to tempt and tease, then deepened the kiss. Desire sang over and through me, all the way to my core.

I’d missed this feeling so much.

Ramsey stepped back. “Lady and Gentleman, take your seats. Let’s go to Vegas.”

I settled into a spot that was more comfortable than my living-room furniture. This would be a short flight, so there was no reason to take advantage of the amenities. However, it was tempting to at least see what kind of secrets a plane like this held.

As we taxied toward the runway, my phone rang. “Sorry. I forgot to turn it off.”

“Go ahead and take it.” Ramsey waved a hand. “No restrictions here.”

Talk about decadent. “Hello?”

“Is this Violet?” the woman on the other end of the line asked.

“It is.”

“This is Tawna, from Extended Stop Motels. We talked earlier?” Her voice was timid, which it hadn’t been earlier.

“Of course. What can I do for you?”

“I got a call from corporate, and they had me cancel your reservation.”

Disappointment sank into my bones. This had been the only place on my list that even talked to me. No one wanted to rent an entire floor to a group of kids. Too much liability. “Did they say why? Is there anything I can do?”

“They said there were insurance issues. Problems with legal guardianship. Liability concerns.”

I clenched my jaw and turned away from the two sets of eyes watching me. “Those are just a bunch of phrases. They don’t mean anything.” They did, but I couldn’t let this reservation fall apart.

“I’m sorry.” Tawna’s voice was tight. “I’m happy to let you stay here, but this came down from corporate. It’s out of my hands.”

It wouldn’t do me any good to yell at her. “I get it. Thank you.” I dropped my phone into my lap and scrubbed my face, letting a long breath out through my fingers.

“What’s wrong?” Ramsey’s question was all concern.

If I left this until tomorrow, would it give me enough time to find a solution? I’d need at least that long, to think of what to try next. “Nothing. I’ve got it.” My hands muffled my words.

“Would you have it faster or less painfully if we helped you brainstorm?” Ramsey asked.

Yes. No. Maybe.

Warm hands grabbed my wrists, and Ramsey pushed them into my lap as he moved into the seat next to me. “Talk.”

“If I don’t, will you stop asking?”

“Nope.”

As I told them what was going on, it was impossible to hide my frustration. Sometimes, talking through something presented answers, but this time, I drew a blank.

Hunter had his phone out. “Give me thirty minutes.”

“I can’t.” I shook my head.

Ramsey squeezed my hand gently. “Can’t what?”

“Can’t keep asking for favors. I owe you both too much.”

Hunter stared at me with disbelief.

“That’s not the way this works.” Was that hurt in Ramsey’s voice?

Who was he kidding? “That’s exactly the way this works.”

Ramsey placed a finger under my chin and turned my face toward his. “This isn’t tit for tat. We’re not keeping score. You’re a friend who needs help, and Hunter can help. If one of us needed something, you’d do the same.”

“What would you need from me?” I wanted to take back the question as soon as I asked it. Mostly because I hated feeling like I couldn’t contribute—and what was I offering them in return, for everything they were doing?

“You know better than that,” Hunter said. “If you don’t, I’m telling you now. Money and connections get a lot of things done, but not everything, and frequently not the important things.”

There was an underlying thread in his voice I couldn’t identify.

“So, I’ve got this.” He dialed.

My thank you was muffled by his talking to whoever picked up on the other end.

I listened intently to his half of each conversation, trying to tell how things were going. It didn’t work. He briefly explained the situation each time, followed by short, pleasant answers, and then he’d hang up.

The fact that he kept making calls made my heart sink. We landed, and he was dialing more people. We were getting in the car, when he whooped. “Got it.”

The car was big enough that two bench-seats faced each other in back. Ramsey slid in next to me, and Hunter took the spot across from us. Everything about his expression and posture said pleased.

“Eight-plex in Sugar House. All of them two-bedroom, two-bath,” Hunter said. “The new owner had everyone move out because he’s remodeling, but the bank held his financing. The place is empty for at least two months, and your kids can stay there. No charge. He’ll write it off as a donation.”

“You’re the best.” I leaned across the divide, to give him a thank you hug.

“I wanna be the best.” Ramsey’s pouty voice was exaggerated. He wrapped an arm around my waist and yanked me into his lap.

I squirmed more than was needed to get comfortable, feeling him half-harden underneath me. “You are the absolute best.”

“Mhm.” He scraped his teeth over my neck. “At what?”

“Everything? What are you looking for?” I teased.

Ramsey bit my shoulder hard enough to draw a yelp, sending a spark of desire through me. “Something sincere would be nice,” he growled.

“No one hurts me like you do.” That sounded bad. “I mean that in the best way possible.”

“Mhm,” he repeated, settling his hands on my hips and moving me into my own spot.

Had I offended him?