Free Nobody's Obligation (Swimming Upstream #2) by Rebecca Barber Page B

towered over him and dominated the space.
    Extending his short stubby fingers with a crooked smile, he wheezed, “Afternoon, Tyler. Nice of you to find time to fit me in.”
    “Of course, Jonathan,” Tyler stated confidently, rising to his feet while his hand wrapped around Jonathan’s sweaty palm.
    “Come through. Would you like anything to drink?” Jonathan offered over his shoulder as he led Tyler down a sterile corridor.
    “I’m fine, thanks,” Tyler said stiffly, noticing the life-size print of himself plastered on the wall. Fuck that’s awkward. Tyler grimaced, turning away from his picture. Although he wasn’t exactly surprised that the picture was there, it still made him feel squeamish. Tyler had never liked his photo appearing anywhere—magazines, newspapers, and especially not office walls. And definitely not on that scale.
    As Jonathan hobbled into his cluttered office, Tyler’s eyes darted about. The whole office was buried by mountains of paper in varying shades of yellow. Jonathan squished his oversized body into the high-backed management chair which dominated the office. A chair chosen purely for its implication of prominence and importance. As Tyler sank into the worn foam, he heard the chair groan under his weight and Tyler swore silently, hoping it would hold out until he got out of there. Preferably as soon as possible.
    After a long uncomfortable silence, Tyler couldn’t stand it any longer. He was through wasting his time. “So, Jonathan, care to share why I was summoned?”
    “So cagy, Tyler.” Jonathan grinned like the cat that got the cream.
    “Cut the crap,” Tyler almost snarled.
    “Gee, that girl really got under your skin, didn’t she?”
    White as a sheet, Tyler mumbled unconvincingly, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    “Interesting,” Jonathan offered before rocking back on his chair, his hands folded behind his head.
    Tyler waited for him to expand on his statement, but Jonathan offered nothing. Refusing to be the first to buckle, Tyler leant forward, resting his elbows on his knees and his fingers under his chin and waited him out. Time dragged on. Both men were as stubborn as each other. Both refused to be the first to capitulate.
    Without a word, Tyler got up and headed for the door. Fucking pointless, his mind screamed, but outwardly he remained silent.
    Realising that Tyler was leaving, Jonathan shot to his feet, the sly smile gone. “Tyler!” he puffed heavily. “Please, take a seat.”
    Still fuming, Tyler flopped dramatically into the chair, momentarily forgetting the flimsy chair’s limits. “Just tell me what you want me to do now, Jonathan. I don’t have time for games,” Tyler snapped harshly. He wasn’t really sure why he was so pissed at Jonathan, all he knew was that he was boiling with fury—a rage he couldn’t understand and was struggling to contain.
    “Fine, just sit,” Jonathan conceded, taking a loud gulp of water from his ‘Fuck I’m Good, Just Ask Me’ coffee mug.
    Barely able to restrain the snarky comment, Tyler swallowed deeply before focusing all his attention on Jonathan. “Okay, I’m listening.”
    And that’s when Tyler figured it out. Jonathan was nervous. And not just nervous, but sweating and trembling, shitting himself with anxiety. Slightly happy with the situation, Tyler accepted the powerful position and pushed on.
    “I’ve…I’ve received a request,” Jonathan stuttered, all signs of bravo abandoned.
    “What sort of request?”
    “An appearance.”
    “No.”
    “Please, Tyler. At least hear me out,” Jonathan begged pathetically. Tyler noticed the sweat gathering on his top lip and his intense narrow eyes darting about.
    “Fine,” Tyler grumbled, folding his long arms across his chest.
    “The Americans want you.”
    “How long?”
    “Four days.”
    “All the way to the US for four days? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Tyler grumbled, rubbing at his stubble-covered