“Adjacent?” Noah shook his head. “I can’t believe you said that.”
“I’m not the one on television. I don’t have a face that's plastered on a nationally syndicated show. The world knows where they can find you every Thursday night. Me? Most people don’t even know my name.”
“But someone knows your name and where you live. They made that perfectly clear when they sent you flowers with myname signed to them,” Noah said with a low tone. The one he rarely used. The one that made her wince. But she wasn’t backing down, so she turned her attention to the one man in the room who didn’t know her well. She might have some luck with him.
"Noah might own a gun. And he might even be a good shot. But he's never been law enforcement. He's not a bodyguard. He's a journalist."
"A journalist who gets death threats for a living.” Noah stood and inched toward the window. He ran his hand across the top of his head and glanced between the view, and her, as if he couldn’t decide what he wanted to focus on.
"That's not the same thing and you know it,” Jag said.
Go Jag. She’d remember to thank her brother for that backup later.
“She makes sense,” Cormac said. “But also, high visibility is easier to work with than you'd think." He moved away from the island and came further into the room, which she'd noticed he only did when he was committing to a conversation. “We don’t want to leave Noah unprotected, and this isn’t about whether or not he can defend himself. It’s about priority and what we know.” He glanced between the two of them. “Granted, objects have been sent to both residents and to your place of work. That alone says something. So, when possible, it’s best that you remain in the same space. But we can coordinate options when you’re not. I’ll just need you to communicate that with me.”
“Okay, but still, no one has ever threatened me and it’s obvious those flowers were meant to scare him,” she said.
Noah returned to the sofa, sat down, and took her hand. "But the way to get to me isn't to come after me directly. It's to go after the people who matter. Targeting you is one way to make me stand up and notice.”
Shit. She was going to have some explaining to do before she was ready. This time, she hadn’t told him she wanted to keep it quiet. And she wasn’t going to. Secrets had torn them apart five years ago. But she had wanted a few days, maybe a couple of weeks, to enjoy this before her family came at her like a tornado. “Most people don't know how much I matter.” She heard how that sounded the moment it left her mouth and pushed past it. "I'm your producer. That's nothing special, but it's not—I mean…” She let out a long breath and looked down at her hand in Noah’s. “No one knows that we ever dated or that we’re together…”
"I'm sorry," Troy said with way too much amusement in his tone. "Did you just say what I think you said?"
“I hadn’t finished my statement.” She lifted her chin, catching Troy’s gaze, refusing to let her little brother rattle her.
“I think she said something is going on with her and Noah.” Troy made a circular gesture with his hand that encompassed the couch, the distance between her and Noah, and approximately five years of unresolved tension. "And then she tried to backpedal.”
Noah chuckled.
“I’m so glad you find this amusing,” she whispered through gritted teeth. “You’re just giving them ammunition.”
Noah cleared his throat. “Maybe we should continue with the security?—”
“No, I think Jag and I need some clarification." Troy leaned forward with both elbows on his knees. His brow creased, and his lips tipped into a slight grin. That look meant only one thing. Troy was worried enough to mean it and amused enough to enjoy it. "Because my sister just used the word together, and that's worth a pause in the security briefing." Troy shifted his gaze to Noah. "When did this happen?"
“The specifics are none of your business,” Noah said, turning his gaze toward her. “But I don’t want to keep us a secret this time.”
“I don’t either, but I wanted to tell my family on my terms. Not like this.”
“I already knew,” Jag said, without looking up from his coffee.
Troy pointed at his brother. "You knew, and you didn't tell me? That’s just rude, bro.”
“How did you know?” Noah asked, jerking his head in Jag’s direction.
“We practically live in the same neighborhood, and I took the kids for a walk.” Jag shrugged. “I saw you kissing on the back deck. I had to cover poor Stephanie's eyes.”
“Now, you’re being dramatic.” Ziggy shook her head.
“I don’t know. That was a pretty wild ki?—”
She elbowed Noah. “Stop encouraging them. Because this might be relatively funny, but you wait until my mother hears about this.”
“Fair point.”
“So, I’m guessing you two got together Saturday morning?" Troy looked between them. "Like, Saturday morning-Saturday morning, or Friday?—"
“This discussion is over,” Ziggy said.