Page 44 of Something Like Shelter

“Well, it wouldn’t be much of a surprise if I told you, would it?” I asked.

“Touché. Touché. Will, Lieberman is looking for you.”

Willa’s eyes flashed at the nickname. “I’ll be right there.”

“You know, I was thinking of putting an office in at my house,” Chris said, looking at me, his tone as condescending as he could make it.

“Well,” Willa said, moving in at my side, wrapping one arm around my back and sliding the other up my stomach, “Owen is a little busy renovating our bathroom right now. But I’m sure he can find someone to recommend to you in your price range.”

It took a lot of self-control not to snort at the dig. And the only reason I managed to keep it in was because I was so focused on Willa’s soft body against mine, and her hand on my ribs, that my mind was short-circuiting.

Chris’s eyes narrowed to slits. “I have no price range.”

“Oh, I’d be careful not to say that to a contractor, if I were you,” I said, letting out a little laugh. “But I’ll toss a name your way once I give it a little thought.”

With that, I led Willa away before the guy—and the booze making him bold—could say something that would cause a scene.

“He lives in a townhouse,” Willa told me as we walked down the stacks. “He doesn’t tell anyone that, but he does. Not that there’s anything wrong with a townhouse, but he tries to make it sound like he has a mansion. When what he really has is a flexing problem and shopping habit that make his mansion dreams impossible. So don’t bother trying to come up with a name.”

“Dunno if I’d want to force him on anyone I know anyway.”

Willa’s arms fell from around me when we got to her client, so I took the opportunity to sell our cover by sliding an arm across her lower back to gently grip her hip instead. At least that was what I was telling myself. It had nothing to do with how nice it felt to have her close, to have her in my arm, to feel each shift of her body and the way it moved when she laughed.

“You all right?” I asked, whispering down by her ear when she got a panicked look in her eye.

She leaned up so her breath tickled the shell of my ear, making a strange shiver move through my stomach. “I need to pump,” she admitted. “And I need some cover in case anyone asks where I am.”

“Got you covered,” I said. “I’ll be mingling and claiming you’re ‘around here somewhere.’”

“Thank you.” She offered me an unsure smile. “I’ll be back before the meal.”

With that, she rushed away, her arm crossing over her chest before she disappeared.

It wasn’t long before random coworkers asked where she was, leaving me to glance around like I didn’t know she was likely in a bathroom stall trying to get some relief right then.

“So, Owen,” Martin, Willa’s boss, said, making me have to hold back a sigh.

“Martin,” I said, turning to face him.

“How long have you and Willa been together?”

“Don’t tell her this, but I’d have to consult my calendar for the exact date. It’s been a while now, though.” Technically, I’d been ‘with’ her in a professional capacity for years.

“My secretary is the one who remembers for me,” he freely admitted, like that wasn’t a pathetic thing to say. “I can’t help but notice Willa doesn’t have a ring on her finger.”

No wonder Willa looked stressed the hell out whenever her boss or coworkers were a topic of conversation. That was an invasive and inappropriate thing for a boss to say.

“It’s been taking longer than I expected to get a custom ring made. I’m sure Willa is wondering what I’m dragging my feet about.”

“So, you do plan to make an honest woman out of her.”

Wow.

I thought she was exaggerating about the misogyny. Apparently, she was playing it down. Who the hell said ‘make an honest woman out of her’ in this day and age?

Not trusting myself not to say something offensive, I sidestepped that. “I’d be a lucky man if she agrees to have me.”

Martin frowned. “Of course she’ll have you. She knows it’s not a good look to be an unmarried mother.”