Zero Day Exploit (Bayou’s End #1.5) (21 page)

She smiled, giddy with the warmth inside her, the sweet euphoria that for him…for him, she could be that feeling of home that he’d always craved. That together, perhaps, they could take a chance—and turn that feeling of home into something more. “Yeah, Evan. You’re home,” she said. “
We’re
home.”

Six Months Later

“L
ITTLE MORE TO THE LEFT
,” Zero called, shouting over the whirr and grumble of the forklift as it maneuvered the massive, industrial-grade 3D printer into the corner of the single-room office space.
Her
single-room office space. It was her name on the lease. Her name on the door, underneath the logo for Afterlife Heart Systems. She was still on the fence about the dripping zombie heart graphic. Alejandro thought it was cute, but there was always the larger audience to think about. Branding, Evan had said. It was all about branding. And people looking for an alternative to current heart replacement technology might not like the implication that Afterlife’s technologies could turn them into a member of the walking dead.

Ravi set his laptop bag on his desk and moved to her side, eyeing the forklift operator from the delivery company. “You’re putting it there?”

“It’s the only place it’ll fit.”

“It’s not very Feng Shui.”

“Which is your way of saying we need to move the desks. It’s gotta be there, Rav. It’s the only heavy-duty outlet that won’t fry the whole building when we turn it on.” She squeezed his shoulder. “We’ll just have to rearrange it all again after you finish the new furniture set. We’ll figure it out.”

“We always do,” Evan’s voice rumbled behind her. He slid his arms around her waist, pulling her close, tugging her off-balance until she swayed and laughed. “We figured this out, didn’t we?”

Grinning fit to burst, she turned in his embrace and wrapped her arms around his neck. “We did. Where have you been, you lazy ass? Even Alejandro’s done more work than you.”

“I heard that,” Alejandro called from the back of the room, where he was assembling a massive file rack.

Evan laughed and tugged a strand of her pink-streaked hair. “I was mailing off
your
patent applications, Miss Blackwell.”

“You’re the best personal assistant ever.” She squinted at him. “If that’s what you were actually doing. I don’t quite believe you. You’ve got a reputation, you know.”

He let out a mock-groan and clutched a hand over his chest. “You’re going to break my heart.”

“We could always manufacture you a new one.”

“I like the one I have right now.” Still chuckling, he brushed his lips to hers. “The one that beats just for you.”

“PDA!” Alejandro called.

“Grow up!” Zero tossed over her shoulder, then snickered and poked Evan’s chest. “That was so cheesy.”

“I’m cheesy when I’m honest.”

“I think I can learn to deal with that.” She twined her arms around his neck. “I like you honest.”

He caught her wrist and turned his head to kiss her tattoo. “Mm…can I be honest right now?”

“Knock yourself out.”

He pulled her closer, broad hands smoothing against the small of her back. “I think I love you, Zoraya Blackwell.”

Her breath caught. The way he said it—so calm, so casual, as if it was a given that he didn’t even have to question—hit deep and hard. “You think?”

A smile tugged at his lips as he leaned down to brush her nose with his. “I know.”

“Mmm…maybe I love you too.”

He arched a brow. “Just maybe?”

“Don’t make me say it, you idiot.”

“Oh, just say it,” Alyssa said as she breezed past with the Keurig stacked atop a file box. Zero stuck her tongue out at her.

“You’re all perfectly welcome to butt out of a private conversation.”

“Then try not having it in the middle of your office,” Ravi countered with a grin. “Just tell him you love him, Zoraya.”

“Not in front of you guys!”

“That’s as good as an admission anyway. I’ll take it.” Laughing, Evan squeezed her tight and lifted his head, looking over the wide, warehouse-style office space that was all their own. “You did it, Z.”

“
We
did it. I’m glad you stuck around. I couldn’t have navigated this entire mess without you.”

It was the truth. When she’d first come up with the idea for Afterlife, it had been nothing but that: an idea. She knew what she wanted to do, but not how. Evan had been the one who’d walked her through all those little details that came with starting a business—from strategic planning to investor presentations to incorporation, and he’d even sat in on the medical certification courses required for her to gain proper accreditation as a healthcare services company.

But he’d never taken over, never railroaded her. It had always been a team effort—from Zoraya’s expertise in programming to Alyssa’s skills in robotics to Ravi and Alejandro’s meticulous attention to detail and flawless design sense, all supported by Evan’s keen business acumen. And it had been Evan who had gone over a thousand resumes with her to help her hire a qualified cardiologist and a tissue generation specialist, both young but with stellar credentials—and both excited to get in on the ground floor of an innovative new startup in 3D-generated replacement heart technologies and biometric management software.

She’d taken her risks, and it had paid off. She’d be twenty-seven in two months, and she was CEO of her own company—a company where she set the rules, and where she could do something real. Something that would make a difference. Evan was still an asshole, but he was an asshole who told the truth—and he’d never turned his back on her or shut her out, not since that day when he’d come back. They still bickered. They still fought. And they still kissed away the heat of their tempers, turning the fire of anger into the warmth of a slowly-growing mutual trust—and love.

Evan nuzzled into her hair, then pressed a kiss to her temple. “Turns out getting attached isn’t as bad as I’d thought.”

“Yeah?” she asked, nearly melting at that warm, contented smile on his lips.

“Definitely.”

“So what happens now?”

“We’ll worry about that tomorrow,” he said. “And the tomorrow after that, and the tomorrow after that. I’m not going anywhere, Zoraya. I’m home right here in your arms.”

“Good.” And ignoring her friends, ignoring their smug grins, ignoring even the forklift operator waiting for her to make up her mind, she stretched up on her toes and kissed him. “Because that’s exactly where I want you.”

And I always will
.

THE END

Cole McCade is a New Orleans-born Southern boy without the Southern accent, currently residing somewhere in the metropolitan wilds of the American Midwest. He spends his days as a suit-and-tie corporate consultant, and his nights writing romance novels in between fending off Tybalt, his geriatric cat. And while he spends more time than is healthy hiding in his writing cave instead of hanging around social media, you can generally find him in these usual haunts:

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