Page 41 of Theirs to Hunt (Girls Like Us #1)
Chapter forty-one
Grayson knocks. The door swings open with no warning.
Behind it, the man Bobbie has been avoiding all night stands.
He’s tall. God, he’s tall. At least six-seven. His frame solid, as if sculpted from black marble. His smile is slow, like he’s been waiting for this moment.
His eyes, though. Those dark eyes speak more than anything.
“Reagan,” he says. His voice is deep, commanding, smooth. Denzel vibes.
He offers a hand. “You made quite the impression tonight.”
I take it. His touch is warm, firm, steady. Something about it immediately puts me at ease, despite the storm still brewing in my chest .
“You’re Anonymous,” I say, certain I know who he is. His presence fills the room, every inch of him larger than life.
“The owner of this place?”
“Correct.” His lips curve slightly. “You’re sharp. I like it.”
Grayson steps back, silent but observing, while my attention stays on Anonymous.
The way he holds himself, confident and unbothered by the world around him, it is clear this man is used to being in control.
“You must think I am some kind of savage for what I did to that guy,” I say. My voice is low but not apologetic. “But if you think I am going to let anyone put their hands on her, you’re wrong.”
“Good.” He responds smoothly, eyes never leaving mine. “I respect that. You showed strength when it mattered, and I appreciate it.”
I blink, taken aback. “You do?”
He steps closer, careful not to invade my space. “You are not playing at being strong. You are strong. You are a protector. And in my world, that is a trait I value.”
Grayson shifts behind me, but Anonymous does not care.
“I have been watching you, Reagan. How you move. How you care for those around you. It is rare. Most people think only about themselves.”
“I am not most people,” I reply, tone firmer now, matching his intensity.
He nods. “I have already learned that about you.”
He takes a step back, walking toward his desk, but his presence still overwhelms. Everything he says has weight.
“I want to offer you something, Reagan. Not for tonight. For when you need it.”
He reaches for a card and slides it across to me.
It is simple. Black. His name in gold lettering .
“Devon Carter,” he says, voice low, almost a whisper. “And my number. Anytime. Anything. Whether business or problem solving, I have resources.”
I take the card, pulse quickening. He does not need to say more. His eyes and his demeanor make it clear he is not offering this frivolously.
It is a statement.
“Thank you,” I say, unsure if I mean it for the card or the respect he is showing me.
“Do not thank me yet,” he replies, a knowing smile on his lips. “You will see. But understand this. Whatever happens next, you are not in this alone.”
He steps back toward the door, the world outside still loud and chaotic.
I glance at Bobbie. She is curled on a black leather couch in the corner, a cozy blanket wrapped around her.
Crossing to her, I fold her into my arms and whisper into her ear. “Whatever you want, you know I got you. I can burn this place literally and kidnap you out of here.”
I see Devon stiffen out of the corner of my eye. Not because I threatened his business, but because I would try to take Bobbie away.
Bobbie does what she does best. She draws on her inner strength and sits up, kissing my cheek.
“I’m good here,” she murmurs. She glances toward the door at the two men standing there. One in a business suit, not a hair out of place despite the chaos downstairs. The other towering beside him, calm as a monk.
They seem at ease with each other. Not strangers. There is trust between them. Subtle but unmistakable.
“You go deal with Grayson. Looks like we are both having our FAFO moment with these men. And what happened, while a shock at the moment, will make a great story for the old folks’ home someday.”
I gaze at her uncertainly. I have not had enough to drink to blur my thoughts, but adrenaline, fury, and Grayson have knocked me off balance .
Part of me wants to slap him and throw a tantrum that would make a toddler proud. The other part wants him to hold me and tell me it will be okay.
Exhaustion tugs at me, whispering that I want someone to carry me the way Devon carried Bobbie. I am tired of being strong. I want someone to lean into.
Bobbie takes both of my hands in hers, warmth seeping through my skin.
“Girl, you know how much I love you. You have been my rock. But tonight, I need to follow my path. This thing with Devon? I want to see where it goes. It is moving faster than I expected, but it is not something I can walk away from. Not right now. And I need you to understand. You will always come first in my heart, but I cannot ignore what is growing here. Especially after tonight.”
She pauses, her gaze soft but firm. “Is it okay with you?”
My eyes well with tears. I feel Grayson step closer.
“Of course it is. You deserve everything good. Shit, this is getting way too touchy-feely.” I stand and shake my head. “You stay. I am leaving. And we will dissect this in minute detail over brunch Sunday.”
With her nod, Grayson takes my arm and leads me out of the office.
He and Devon exchange complicated man-speak with nods and loaded glances. Then it is clasped forearms and a backslap, the kind of greeting that makes it clear they know each other outside of tonight.
A mutual respect.