Page 49

Bridger

A year later…

“I’m telling you, the idea is solid,” I say, leaning back in my chair and tossing my pen onto the table with a flourish. “You’re just salty because you didn’t think of it first.”

Holland’s eyes narrow, and the corner of her mouth twitches in a way that tells me she’s seconds away from letting loose a sarcastic retort. “Oh, please. Your groundbreaking plan involves, what, appealing to nostalgia with cheesy ’90s references? Bold move, Sanderson. Really cutting-edge.”

“Hey,” I shoot back, folding my arms across my chest and leveling her with a look. “The ’90s were iconic. If you knew anything about marketing—which, clearly, you don’t—you’d know nostalgia sells. Admit it, you’re scared I might be onto something.”

With a snort, she rolls her eyes. “Scared? Of your Nickelodeon-themed campaign? That’s rich. What’s next, Sanderson? Are we going to pitch a Rugrats revival while we’re at it?”

Before I can fire back, the door to the conference room swings open, and Uncle Joe strides in. His tie is slightly loosened, and he’s cradling his usual oversized coffee mug with World’s Okayest Boss emblazoned across it.

His gaze bounces between the two of us as a bemused expression tugs at his face. “Let me guess,” he says, leaning casually against the edge of the table, “the great Sanderson-Tate marketing rivalry rages on?”

Holland leans back in her chair, crossing her legs and flashing a smug grin. “Don’t worry. I’m winning, as usual.”

“That’s debatable,” I mutter under my breath, earning a sharp elbow to the ribs for my trouble.

Joe chuckles, shaking his head as he takes a sip of coffee. “You two are something else, you know that? I’ll say this, though, you’ve both been incredible assets to the company. But let me give you a word of advice.”

Holland and I both sit up straighter, waiting for one of his infamous pearls of wisdom.

“Don’t let whatever this is,” he says, gesturing between us with his mug, “bleed into your personal lives. Trust me, my first two wives would tell you I did that a little too much.”

Holland raises an eyebrow, and I can see the teasing retort forming on her lips, but before she can say anything, I jump in. “Don’t worry, Uncle Joe,” I say smoothly, draping an arm across the back of Holland’s chair, “we never bring business home with us.”

My fiancée nods in agreement, her tone as sweet as honey. “Absolutely. We know better than that.”

Joe smirks, clearly unconvinced. “Then you’re both smarter than I was at your age,” he says, pushing off the table with a final nod. “Carry on. And try not to kill each other in here. You’re scaring the interns.”

The door clicks shut behind my uncle, leaving us alone again. A teasing smile quirks Holland’s lips as she rises to her feet and gathers up her scattered notes.

I stand and loosen my tie from around my neck before tossing it onto the table. “You know,” I start, stepping toward her, “he might actually be onto something. This rivalry of ours could get dangerous.”

“Oh, please,” she says, rolling her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitches, betraying her amusement. “You and I both know it works for us. Besides, I’d never let it interfere with our personal lives.”

“Good,” I murmur, my voice dropping low as I close the space between us. My hands stray to her hips before I tug her closer. “Because I love you way too much to let some stupid work disagreement mess up what we’ve got.”

Her breath catches as her hands rise to my chest, her fingers grazing the fabric of my shirt. “Way too much, huh?”

“That’s right. Way too much,” I confirm, brushing a kiss against her forehead. “More than I ever thought I could love someone.”

Her teasing smile softens, and her gaze locks on mine, the usual sharp edge replaced with something deeper. “More than your ’90s campaign?” she teases.

A chuckle slips free as I shake my head. “Even more than that.”

My lips capture hers in a slow kiss. The world outside fades away as I lose myself in the feel of her. Her body molds perfectly to mine as her hands tangle in my shirt, anchoring me to her.

When we finally pull apart, her eyes stay closed for a beat longer, her forehead resting against mine. “I hate to ruin the moment, but,” she says, her tone laced with humor, “don’t forget we have my mom’s wedding this weekend.”

I groan, throwing my head back. “How could I forget? I’ve been counting down the days for months now.”

With a laugh, she bites her lower lip as her eyes sparkle. “Don’t worry,” she says, her voice turning playful, “if you behave, I’ll make it worth your while.”

My head snaps down, and I raise an eyebrow, my interest piqued. “Oh, really? And what exactly did you have in mind?”

She smirks, her hands sliding up my chest. “Oh, you know... it might involve a private dance.”

I tilt my head, pretending to consider her offer. “And?”

She swats my pec with a mock scowl. “What do you mean ‘and’? Isn’t that enough?”

I shake my head, grinning as I lower my voice to a husky whisper. “I want a dance and a BJ. You know I like that swirly thing you do with your tongue.”

With narrowed eyes, she swats at me again. “Now you’re just being greedy.”

“For you?” I say, leaning down until our noses are nearly touching. “Always. That’s never going to change.”

Her expression softens, her gaze searching mine. “I really hope it doesn’t.”

“It won’t, baby,” I promise, pulling her fully into my arms. “Not ever. This is just the beginning for us.”

She buries her face in my chest. Her voice is muffled but full of emotion when she whispers, “I love you.”

I hold her closer, savoring the moment and the feel of her against me. With her wrapped in my arms, and life waiting just outside the door, one thing’s clear—whatever comes next in our lives, it’ll be a wild ride.

And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Thank you so much for reading Never Your Girl!