THE CALL FROM the rehabilitation center couldn’t have come at a better time for Becca. Space had finally opened up for her mother in the rehab program they’d been waiting for, but all the paperwork and transfer documents needed to be taken care of ASAP.
It was an inconvenience, but one of the best kind.
Her mom would be getting better care, and she was getting an escape from Prestige, from Devon, from the bleak reality that was her life.
Five minutes after her cell had rung — and no, she hadn’t been hoping it was Devon… really, she hadn’t — she’d requested an Uber, packed a bag, and headed for the airport.
The center was in Arizona, so the flight from northern California had been short.
But not short enough to keep Becca from her thoughts.
With a sigh, she’d disembarked the plane and rented a car for the drive to the center. It was closed to visitors, of course, but she’d grabbed a motel room and met with the facility director early the next morning.
Her mom had protested about the cost involved during the entire transfer process — proverbially dragging her feet since she couldn’t physically drag them yet — and fought Becca tooth and nail over any upgrade.
She had finally lied and told her mom she’d gotten a permanent position with Prestige just to cease the worst of the battling.
It felt like days later before she was walking out of the center, when in reality it had been only a couple of hours.
But since she’d worked the full day before then played hanky-panky with her boss, which had been followed by buckets of tears, a plane ride, and a sleepless night, she was done in.
So she wasn’t happy when her cell rang as she’d barely cleared the door of her motel room.
“What?” she asked with a sigh. It was probably her mother, getting ready to argue with her about buying a cheaper set of sheets or some other nonsense.
“Uh, Ms. Stealing?”
Crap. So not her mother. Rather, it was Stephanie, the director of the rehab center.
She cleared her throat and resisted the urge to bang her head on the doorframe. “Hi, Stephanie. Sorry. I just—”
“No problem, Ms. Stealing. I know. I-I, um…”
Oh good God, what had her mother done now?
“I’ll talk to her. I promise,” Becca said. “She wants to get better. She’s just worried about the cost. But I’ve got it covered—”
“I know. I just—” Stephanie sighed. “Well, I don’t really know how to say this…”
What the hell — heck? Becca bumped her head against the motel door anyway. It hurt… but kind of in a good way. “Say what exactly?” she asked.
“Your mother’s account has been permanently covered.”
Her eyes flashed open, and she winced as she had an extreme close-up with the bright pink trim of the motel’s paint job. “Wh-what?”
“I know.” Stephanie sounded excited now. “I couldn’t believe it when the man came in, but the paperwork is all in order, and he’s set up a trust for your mother. There’s enough money in that account to make sure she’ll have the best treatments, the best teams. Your mother is going to get better…”
Becca’s breath caught; her throat tightened. Luckily, Stephanie kept talking about plans and doctors and medicines, and she didn’t have to say a word.
Because Devon.
Somehow, she knew in her heart that Devon had done this.
“What was the man’s name?” she asked when Stephanie finally took a breath.
“He wouldn’t give one, but—” Stephanie gave a little giggle. “—I’ve never seen a member of the male population as hunky as this one. Tall, dark, built like a god, eyes like chocolate—”
Clearly, Stephanie didn’t watch sports. Or pay attention to Hollywood starlets.
“Devon.”
“You know him?”
Becca sniffed at the same time her neck prickled and her skin heated from the inside out. Turning, she saw the man himself. He stood there in all glorious hunky-ness, ready to crush her battered heart for the second time, just for fun.
“I know him.”
Stephanie blew a breath out, and it rattled through the speakers. “Good. I just wanted to make sure you knew, and that you were okay with it.”
Okay? Not really. But it was the best thing for her mother, and that meant the majority of her was thrilled, touched even. The small piece of her that still ached from Devon’s dismissal was what smarted.
A parting gift, payment for services rendered.
“I’m o-okay with it.” A sob caught in her throat. “Thank you,” she choked out and hung up.
Devon took a step toward her.
She backed up and promptly smacked her head against the frame, except this time a lot harder than her little love-tap from before. “Stop,” she said, putting her hand up.
The word sounded broken and desperate even to her own ears.
But did the man ever listen to her? He’d said he could out-stubborn her, and he was right. He closed the distance between them, pushed her hand aside, and swept her into his arms.
And, dammit — yes, a real dammit — she liked it. Reveled in it, hugged it to the depths of her soul.
He’d ruined her, she realized as she sank into his embrace. She had no resistance or armor when it came to Devon.
He guided her to the bed, closing the door behind them with a soft click, and sat down on the edge with her in his lap.
And just held her.
And it felt really freaking good… and — she hiccupped, coughed, sniffed, tried every trick to keep the tears at bay.
None of which worked.
She cried. Devon held her, stroking her back, cradling her close, until she finally stopped, feeling as wrung-out as a dishtowel on a laundry line.
He didn’t say a word until her breathing slowed and even then, his words were a riddle. “I think we’re laboring under a misapprehension.”
Her head throbbed, and she struggled to make sense of his words. “Wh-what?”
“I’m happy Clarice is back.”
Her lungs hitched, the slice of pain deep.
But Devon continued on, seemingly oblivious that he was hurting her. How could she have been so wrong about him?
He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I can’t have you working for me.”
Becca stiffened and tried to wriggle out of his arms. “Yeah. Reading that loud and clear.”
“Because I love you.”
“I can’t believe—” She froze. “What did you say?”
Devon smiled down at her, warm brown eyes threatening to suck her into the depths of Willy Wonka’s chocolate river. And she’d happily take a dip in that.
“I.” A pause. “Love.” Another pause. “You.” He tapped her nose.
“You.” Becca shook her head. “It’s not— I— You—”
“The reason I’m happy Clarice is back is because I want us to have a chance at something special without all the barriers of work.”
Becca blinked at him. “But you just—” She broke off. “And Clarice said—” Oh jeez. What did it matter anyway?
Devon frowned. “I fuc — screwed — up at the house. I didn’t handle the situation well. I was so relieved to see Clarice because I thought she was the solution to our problem. I forgot that she can be overprotective.”
Ha. Yeah. Now that was an understatement.
Except Becca couldn’t be too mad. Insinuations aside, Devon deserved to have someone looking out for him.
But who was going to look after her? asked the little voice in her head.
“Clarice and I had a chat,” Devon said. “She understands that what’s going on between us is none of her business.”
Becca snorted.
“Sweetheart…” He touched her cheek. “…I love you. I need you to know that. You’ve been different from the beginning. Clarice is going to have to understand that, or she’s going to have to go.”
“I—” Becca shook her head. “No. I don’t want to be the cause of anything. Clarice is excellent at her job. I shouldn’t—”
“Which is exactly why I love you so much.” He ran a thumb along her bottom lip. “You care about other people. You work hard. You’re smart as hell. Anyone would be lucky enough to have you as their assistant, let alone to have you gracing their life.”
The knots in her stomach loosened; the wounds in her heart closed up. “You think so?”
One-half of his mouth did that sexy, slight curve that never failed to make her insides all gooey. “I know so.” His lips brushed across hers. “Forgive me for being such an idiot.”
“Maybe.” She smiled, kissed him back. “Thank you for my mom. I shouldn’t accept it, but…”
It was for her mom, and it was a gift she didn’t have the strength to return.
“You will,” he ordered, brows pulling into a fierce frown.
“Maybe,” she countered, giggling when he started to mutter a curse then cut the word off.
“You’re a bad influence.” He glared.
“I think you mean a good one.”
His fingers laced with hers. “Yes, I do,” he said and raised their hands to his mouth before kissing the back of hers. “Give me, give us a chance?”
As if he had to ask. Devon was… well, he was pretty much everything.
“Okay.”
Brown brows came up. “Okay? Just like that?”
Becca leaned forward and hesitated with her mouth a half inch from his. “Just like that.” A pause. “Because I fucking love you too.”
The look of surprise on his face was why she saved that word for very special occasions.