Page 62 of Theirs to Hunt (Girls Like Us #1)

Chapter sixty-two

The night air smells smoke and rosemary.

Brooks is working the grill a few feet away, tongs in one hand, a bourbon in the other.

Flames flick beneath the steaks, casting gold across his jawline.

He hums under his breath, some old song I don't recognize, giving us the illusion of privacy while keeping one ear turned our way.

Grayson leans against the stone counter beside me, sleeves rolled to his forearms, shirt half unbuttoned. He looks relaxed, but I know better. That stillness is coiled. Contained.

"Good week," he says, eyes on where Brooks is transferring something on the grill.

I sip my wine. "It was."

"You held your own. Managers, handsy perverts, and us. Not everyone can go toe to toe with my son or me, personally or in business. And you impressed Devon. That's not easy." I raise a brow.

"That surprises you? "

"No," he says, finally looking at me. "But you impressed me too." There's something in his voice. Not just approval. He is being deliberate and measured.

"What are you leading up to?" I ask, setting down my glass.

He nods once. Like I passed another test. "I want you in the business. Officially. Not stuck in customer metrics or spinning gold out of broken AI."

My mouth opens, then closes. "Doing what?"

"Director of Special Projects. Not a real title. Not on paper. But it comes with access. And weight."

I laugh softly. "That sounds vague and threatening."

"It should," he says, with a hint of a smile.

"You're serious?"

"You turned around a failing department in six months. No new staff. No budget increase. You used a psych minor to restructure behaviors and communication. You didn't just improve performance. You rewired the system."

I blink. Not flattery. That's data.

"You saw flaws before legal, ops, or IT caught them. That matters. We've all seen it."

My throat tightens. "You want me to leave that role?"

"I want you to do for the rest of the company what you did there.

Special Projects is internal audits. Operations cleanups.

And sometimes outside work with Devon." He pauses.

"Sometimes we have to circumnavigate the law to prevent harm.

And sometimes we deliver justice outside the courtroom. But we protect the innocent. Always."

That last part lands hard. No apology in it.

I nod once.

"Do you have someone to take over customer service?"

"Not yet."

"Shawna," I say immediately. "She can maintain what I built. I'd want oversight to stay under my umbrella in case she needs help. "

He doesn't hesitate. "Approved."

He slides a slim leather cardholder across the counter. Black keycard. Unmarked. Cool to the touch. "What's this open?"

"Everything."

I pick it up, turning it in my fingers. It feels heavier than it should. "You trust me with this?"

"I trust what you'll become with it. And I'd rather shape that than let someone else try."