Page 45 of Heart Over Heels

“I can give it to him.” I nodded toward the paperwork Beck held.

He arched a brow. “So can I, but the bank will be closed by the time he gets here tomorrow.”

“Why wait?” I shrugged. “I’ll deliver it first thing in the morning.”

“That’s charitable of you.” Beck’s tone dripped suspicion, and rightly so. Playing errand boy across town for the sake of payroll wasn’t exactly my style. But I had my reasons.

“He may be due a windfall after the mint he dropped on dinner the other night,” I admitted.

Beck’s head tilted. “Hepaid for the dinner? I thought that was a business outing.”

“It was!”

My protest only made his expression twist more. “Darby, he’s your colleague, not your client.”

I shot him a look then flicked my gaze to Zephyr, who had melted into a puddle of affection against Beck’s side. “Don’t tell me you’re instituting a policy about workplace relationships,Becky. Because you’d be the first in violation.”

That got me a frown and nothing more. So I thrust out my hand. “I’ll get soldier boy his check. And you said something about a W-2?”

Beck hesitated only a moment before handing the envelope over. “It’s in there.”

With a satisfied smile, I slipped the papers into my robe’s pocket then slid back into my seat, letting my stomach remind me I had other priorities—namely, dinner.

Beck glanced down at the incubus plastered to his hip. “You about ready, Beauty?”

“Ozzy made cabbage steaks.” Zephyr pointed at his plate, prepped with care then ignored because he’d been too busy mooning at Beck.

“That explains the smell,” Beck muttered.

From behind his mountain of potatoes, Elliot gave a mute but emphatic nod.

Zephyr turned toward Oz with a hopeful tilt to his head. “Can I take it to go, Oz?”

Oz was already on his feet, headed for the cabinets and our mismatched collection of Tupperware. “I’ll pack it up,” he replied then glanced at Beck. “You want some, Boss?”

Colt swung the freezer door shut while triumphantly brandishing a frost-covered box of pepperoni Hot Pockets. “You can have mine.”

Beck gave him a flat look. “I think I’ll pass.”

Oz returned to the table with a battered Tupperware and carefully packed Zephyr’s leftovers. Once loaded, Zephyr ducked under Beck’s arm and bid us goodnight. Watching him go was always a little bittersweet. Not that he ever strayed far. A trip to Beck’s hotel suite was basically a sleepover. They’d both be back by lunch tomorrow.

The microwave hummed, and conversation resumed, but my attention drifted. I plucked the envelope from my pocket and ran a finger under the envelope top. Beck hadn’t asked how I planned to track Mercer down, but I’d already decided. Better to catch him at home, off guard, and see the man where he lived. About time, really. He was at my house every night.

Pulling the papers out, I unfolded them to inspect the name and address fields. Of course, Beck had prefilled everything. All of Mercer’s details were printed in crisp black ink.

He was a better ship captain than he gave himself credit for.

And I was a good manager. Apparently, the kind that now made house calls.

Maybe my newfound freedom under Beck’s rule was going to my head, because it thrilled me a bit to venture so far from the club. I tipped my head against the window, watching cars whiz by and the landscape shift as my Uber driver sped along the freeway.

All the while I couldn’t help but think the ride to the sunny Vegas suburb would have been nicer on the back of Mercer’s motorcycle.

The neighborhood was modest. Stucco houses lined up like rows of crops, topped with brown or red tiled roofs. Gravel, cacti, and the occasional palm stood in for lawns. Typical for the desert.

I pried open the flap of the envelope in my hand and double-checked Mercer’s address as the car crept along. This was the kind of place you could get lost, winding down roads and dead ending into cul-de-sacs eternally.

I’d started to slump, gone blind to the blur of earth-toned structures against an endless blue sky when at last we arrived.