Page 12 of Wrong Number, Right Fox (Dial M For Mates #6)

JOSS

The Redtail Global job was almost done. It should’ve felt like a triumph, something I could be proud of, a professional milestone.

But instead, I sat at my desk with a cooling cup of coffee in front of me.

I didn’t even want it, but it was Harold’s turn this week, and I didn’t have the heart to turn it down.

I didn’t want the contract to be finished, to be in the office away from Garner, or to make small talk with my business partner, but here I was. What I wanted, what I couldn’t stop thinking about, was getting going to Redtail. Not for the project. No. To see Garner.

I wanted to see him. Touch him. Be near him.

We hadn’t defined what we were—if we were anything at all.

Friends with benefits at best. Coworkers with benefits, maybe.

Or possibly not even that. Maybe we were just people who’d gotten caught up in a moment—fine, several moments, and were pretending it hadn’t meant more than it did.

A fling, that was all it was—all it could be.

If he wanted more, he’d have said so, right?

Or was he like me, unsure what to say. He’d been nothing but wonderful to me. At no point in time did I ever feel used or unwanted. In the past, this would’ve been the ideal situation. But now? Now, I wanted more. I wanted everything.

Just because he hadn’t said it didn’t mean I couldn’t. Right?

So why hadn’t I?

Once again, it came back to fear. That sick, choking fear that if I put myself out there—if I told him what I felt—he wouldn’t feel the same. And I wasn’t sure I could survive that. He owned a piece of my heart.

No. Not a piece. All of it. I was officially screwed.

“You look awful.” Harold didn’t say it like an insult. It was more like he was worried, and I appreciated that. Really, I did. But still… it stung.

“Sorry.” I sighed, sucked in a deep breath, closed my eyes, and tried to find the words. “I just… I’m off.” It went far deeper than that, but it was a start.

“Joss, we’ve been friends for years. You can tell me anything.

” And with anyone else, I’d have taken that as someone being polite, offering because it was the right thing to do.

But with Harold, he meant it. He never made an offer he didn’t want to willingly fulfill.

He was a nice guy and would rarely say no in the time of need, but offers? Those were precious.

“Yeah. It’s just… Redtail’s contract is nearly fulfilled.” I stared at the rim of my cup. People called coffee morning magic; was it too much for it to magically give me all the answers that I needed? “And… and I think… I mean, I know… I’m in love with Garner.”

Harold didn’t say a word, watching my face, patiently. He knew me well enough to know there was more… so much more.

“I’m in love with Garner, and he’s not in love with me. And I know this is wrong, but I’ve been sleeping with him since the trip.” I spoke as fast as my lips would go, afraid that I’d chicken out along the way.

I braced for his disapproval, for the well-meaning-friend face that would try not to judge me but still would because how could he not. But when I looked up, Harold was grinning. Really grinning, the kind of smile that reached all the way to his eyes.

“I don’t get why you’re looking at me like that.” It was making me kind of nervous.

“Because,” he said, shrugging, “he does like you like that. I knew it!”

“What are you talking about?” It was not riddle time.

“Think about it. What evidence do you have that he doesn’t love you?”

“You can’t prove things don’t exist, only that things do.” I refused to get my hopes too far up. It would only make it harder.

“What a crock, Joss. You can’t tell me there haven’t been moments—little things he’s said to you—that made your stomach flip.”

I started to protest, but I couldn’t. He was right. But also, was he or was I about to tread into the dangerous village of wishful thinking.

“Then riddle me this… has he ever told you he’s glad you’re in his life?”

“Well… yeah. But I’m saving his company.” Anyone would’ve been glad to have our help, right?

“Bullshit.”

“It’s not bullshit,” I muttered.

“It’s bullshit,” he said firmly. “Has he ever said anything like, I don’t know… about Fate and her looking down on him?”

That stopped me. I shook my head.

“He’s never mentioned fate?” Gods, Harold was being persistent. He wasn’t going to let this go.

“Well… he thanked the fates once. But that was just sex talk. That doesn’t count.”

“Uh-huh.” Harold raised an eyebrow. “And does he come close to you? Make silly excuses to lean over your desk while you’re typing? Like, I don’t know—‘need more paper clips’?”

I snorted. “They don’t use paper clips.”

“But binder clips, maybe?”

I didn’t answer. He didn’t need me to, my gasp gave it away. He was there for binder clips—every single day.

“This isn’t a fling. And it’s definitely not just coworkers with benefits. You need to talk to him.”

I wish I had his confidence.

“Does he know how you feel?” he asked.

“No.”

“And why is that?”

“Because… it’s complicated,” I said. “He hired us. What if he doesn’t feel the same?” And really, that was it. I was terrified that he didn’t feel the same. So terrified that I actively talked myself out of seeing the hints he’d been leaving me, if I were to believe Harold.

“Oh my gods.” Harold threw his hands up. “I want to wring your neck. How can you be so oblivious?”

“I—”

“No. Get up. Bring your coffee. Go spend whatever time you can with him before this is officially done. And maybe… I don’t know… tell him how you feel?” He flicked my forehead. It was well deserved.

I just stared at him.

“And listen,” he added. “If he turns you down, I’ll be there with chocolate and ice cream and cookies and pretzels.”

All my favorite things when I was down.

“All together?” Because they only reached their true potential when they were all stirred up in a bowl.

“Yes, even though that’s an abomination.” He patted my head like I was a small boy or possibly a puppy. “That’s how good of a friend I am.”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. It was laugh or cry. “Thanks for talking me off the ledge.”

“No one was falling yet. But you were damn close.” He pointed toward the door. “Go.”

So I went. He was right, and dawdling wasn’t going to do me any good.

I spent the morning preparing for an important meeting, and when the time came, it went well.

It was a combination of information sharing and tech teaching, so it could’ve easily gone either way.

I spent a half-hour going over some of the new backend systems to the middle management team so they’d understand the reason for the procedural shifts.

I focused on what was working, where we were headed, and how to streamline the final integrations, trying not to overwhelm them, while at the same time keeping them informed.

But the entire time, I felt eyes on me. Eyes that weren’t there to figure out how my position here had changed their jobs. Nope. It was Garner.

Every time I glanced up, he was looking at me. So was his brother, but that wasn’t the same. His brother looked amused, like he knew something. Garner… Garner looked upset. Tight-lipped. Tense.

It was weird.

Maybe he was mad at me. I had taken longer than planned to come back. Maybe he thought I was putting off the end of the project—or worse, avoiding him.

After I answered a final question, my stomach let out a growl so loud it echoed off the glass walls.

Garner stood abruptly and said, “That’s all for now. Thanks, everyone.” Then he came over and grabbed my hand… in front of everyone. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” I was so confused.

“You’re hungry,” he said. “I’m feeding you.”

“I’m fine?—”

“No, you’re not fine.” His voice was firm. “You worked through lunch, and now your body’s reminding you. Come on. I’ll make dinner. We’ll go to my house.”

His house.

Something about that shift made my pulse stutter.

As we walked out together, our hands still linked, I felt the question rise again in my throat. The one I’d rehearsed. The one Harold told me to ask.

If there was ever a time to be brave, this was it.

I just had to find the courage to say it.