“Shh,” she hisses. “It’s three o’clock, and you know who might hear you.”

As if her words conjured Helen, I hear papers rustling outside the door. A moment later, the knock is loud, as though Helen doesn’t want to interrupt anything. I wonder if she suspects something? But Elle and I have been discreet at the office, just silliness, mostly. The sexy teases have been behind closed doors.

I quickly double-check that both Elle and I are righted and at our respective desks and call out, “Come in.”

Helen comes in like a woman on a mission. “Good afternoon, Mr. Wolfe, Elle. Shall we get to debriefing on the week’s bullet points? I trust Elle has made the travel arrangements?”

“She’s finishing them up now, actually. Why don’t we step back to your office so she can focus on that and we can go over your week?” Helen nods and spins, immediately heading for her desk.

Our travel plans are already made, though there are several more items I’d like research on before we make the final proposal. “Elle, can you pull the most recent tax laws, please, including anything currently proposed and expected to pass? I know I looked at them before, but I want to really dig into the potential benefits and pitfalls there.”

I leave Elle to that assignment, hoping she’ll also spend some brain power deciding whether to accompany me, and go into the outer office, helping Helen with the handover of the duties she’ll be overseeing here. Thankfully, she’s already up to speed on most of them, having been my right-hand woman for so long. But we do a run-through of everything so that we’re on the same page, with aligned expectations.

“What if something hits the fan?” Helen asks. “Afternoon here is past bedtime for you in London, and if there’s no time—”

“Helen, you’re as keen as any executive here. So go with your gut and send me an email with your decision on any issues. I’ll back you. It’s not like I’m unreachable, either. I’m going to London, not the moon. I’ll call in daily to get updates, both from you and from Gary and Debra. I’m not abandoning you, but I do trust you in my stead.”

It’s simple and truthful, but Helen’s touched by my endorsement. From that moment on, we fly through the rest of our work, Helen trusting her instincts and brains more and more. By the time four thirty rolls around, I feel fully confident in her, and equally important, Helen feels confident in herself.

“Go home,” I tell Helen finally. “Have a good dinner, a nice bottle of wine, and relax. Because tomorrow’s going to be your debut on the big stage.”

“Sounds good . . . and thanks, Colton,” she says, grabbing her purse and disappearing. I give her a minute to get to the elevator before going back into my main office, where Elle’s gnawing at the tip of a pen, looking confused.

“Have you made your decision?” I ask without preamble, assuming what’s got her nose wrinkled so adorably. “We’re wheels up tomorrow, Elle.”

“I . . . I just don’t know,” Elle says, tossing her pen on her desk. “Colton, I need you to understand something, to truly get what it is you’re asking of me. It’s been Dad and me for so long. Mom left us, walked out and said fuck you to the two of us, and we were destroyed for a while. Ever since, he’s done everything he can for me. He doesn’t want me to get hurt or let me out of his sight. He doesn’t want to lose all he has left.”

I grit my teeth, both understanding and not. I don’t have family like this. As I told Elle, I’m the black sheep of my family, so this parental protective streak feels foreign to me. But I can see that it’s coming from a place of love. Truth is, I don’t hate Daniel. In almost any other situation, I’d consider him a mate and be happy to share a pint with him down at the pub. It’s just that he’s between me and my dream, and now, between Elle and what I think her dream is.

There’s a time for every baby bird to leave the nest.

“A caged bird stands on the grave of dreams.” I’m sad for her, angry for her. I can see her wings being clipped before my very eyes.

“What?”

“It’s from a Maya Angelou poem I read as a boy. Your dad loves you and has created a beautiful life for you, but no matter how golden, it is still a cage. I won’t begrudge you if you’d rather live comfortably there. I can even understand the appeal. But I’m standing here with the key to your future, the cage door open, and yet, you’re too afraid to fly.”

She flinches, the smallest tightening of her jaw, when I say she’s afraid. Daring girl doesn’t much care for that.

“But what if I’m already flying? Have you ever seen a hummingbird eating? They look like they’re floating in midair. Like magic. But they’re working their asses off, flapping their wings like mad. We just can’t see it. Maybe I’m flying and you don’t want to see it.”

“Perhaps.” I don’t want to admit that she’s right, but she may have a point.

“You say I’m caged, but what you’re offering isn’t freedom. It’s just a different cage. One of your making instead of Dad’s.”

I swallow thickly, unprepared for the depth this whole situation has taken. I meant for this to be fun, an adventure for us both. Yes, with the boon of pissing off Daniel and increasing my odds of realizing my own dreams.

But somewhere along the way, it became about the battle for Elle’s dreams and her heart.

Whether she gives that to me or not, I truly want her to recognize the power she wields in making her own dreams come true.

“Come on,” I tell her, reaching over and taking her hand. “I have an idea, a dare.”

Chapter 18

Elle

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What?” Colton asks, following my eyes. “I’ve seen this place from the highway dozens of times. Before, I never gave it much thought. Now, it seems like fun.”

He doesn’t have to say that he means he never considered doing something this outrageous before I came into his life. I hear that underlying truth loud and clear.

My eyes are currently fixed at the top of a crane towering over us, the blinking light at the top mocking me and probably warning low-flying aircraft to stay away. Around us, miniature golfers do their thing, go-karts scream around a track, and off to the side, neon lights advertise an arcade with something called a ‘Tilt-A-Hurl’, but the pride of Fun Land towers over us. This is not the same family friendly putt-putt place I took him to. This is a three AM, crack-high crazy idea of an amusement park for adrenalin junkies.

“Colton, that damn thing’s half a mile in the air!” I protest, my stomach sinking as someone leaps from the crane, their screams the only way I can track their progress through the darkening sky. I keep waiting for the sound of a human body bouncing off the asphalt surrounding us, but instead, laughter soon rings out . . . whether that’s relief or just insanity, I’m not quite sure.

“It’s 125 feet,” Colton corrects me, pointing at the sign advertising the ‘Leap of Faith’ bungee jump. He takes my hand, giving it a squeeze. “You said you were afraid of heights but that you’d base jump if given the chance. And if a dare were involved, of course. I thought you’d like the challenge of this. Seems appropriate, don’t you think?”