Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 158829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
“The hotel—you mean Winthrope?”
He nods. “Yeah. When I got to the loading dock, the ice was fucking melted. But that’s not my fault! They made me jump through so many extra hoops during rush hour and it was a hot-ass day. When I got there, the same guy who hired me was waiting with the chef. I showed him the ice. He told me not to worry and said he’d take care of it. They even paid me double for making the extra stops. I feel real shitty that people got sick and your boss has to pay. I was worried something like that might happen. That’s why I told him the ice was blown and I didn’t know if he could still use it. So, whatever. If you want the money back...” He reaches into his pocket.
I shake my head.
“Don’t. You did everything you were asked. It’s not your fault someone else spoiled the seafood. But there is one thing you can do. Would you be willing to go on the record? Even anonymously?”
“What record?” he bites off.
I open my purse and pull out a piece of paper and a pen. “I just want you to write down what you just told me and sign your name—”
The kid looks nervous. “That’s not anonymous at all.”
“I won’t show it to anyone but my boss without your approval. Hand to God. But did the person who hired you tell you not to tell anyone?”
He thinks for a second and slowly shakes his head.
“So, why are you worried about it?”
“Because. I don’t want to get thrown under the bus.”
“Not happening. The guy who caused this mess is going down.” I mean it, even if I have to knock him out myself.
The kid nods. He writes out a statement and signs it.
I read it over to make sure it’s everything he just told me.
“Would you be willing to leave your number in case I need to reach out for clarification?”
“Sure.” He jots his number below his signature.
“Thank you.”
“You won’t regret this,” Maisy says, grinning from ear to ear. “Thank you for doing the right thing.”
I grab her arm and gently tug her away.
We don’t have time to stand around while she flirts.
“Mission accomplished, kids. I thought that went pretty well. What’s wrong?” Dad asks once we’re back in the car.
“Loverboy still hasn’t called!” Maisy says.
Dad laughs.
I sigh. “It’s not like that, brat, and you know it.”
“What’s it like then?” she counters.
“I just want to help him with the chaos that’s going on, and now maybe I can.”
“You want to make sure he’s okay, you mean,” Dad adds.
“Yeah,” I say weakly.
And I realize that’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.
Every single time Brock’s handsome scowly face fills my mind.
Even if he’s the grumpiest McJerkface to ever walk the Earth, I still freaking care.
28
All The Arrows (Brock)
It’s four a.m. and I’m wide the fuck awake.
I don’t sleep much these days, even with a lump of sausage dog piled at my feet, blissfully snoring.
Tonight, I can’t even dream of rest.
Not when Pippa left me that voicemail, offering help I don’t deserve. I can’t drag her deeper into this clusterfuck.
I’m lost in my own head when my phone lights up, blaring its ringtone. The name on the screen feels like an acid facial.
Let’s get this over with.
“Yeah?” I answer.
“Where are you?” Gramps demands.
“It’s four o’clock in the morning here. I’m at home.”
“You should be asleep and resting up for the conference later today. You have an early flight to Portland,” he says firmly.
It’s so absurd I could split myself in two laughing.
“That’s a joke, right?”
“No. Why would you think that?”
“I resigned, Gramps. Surely you saw the email by now?”
“Son, your resignation is not accepted under any circumstances.”
I pull the phone back and stare in disbelief.
“What do you mean 'not accepted?' You can’t force me to work for you!”
“No, but I can ask you to, and I’m your grandfather. You’d be an ingrate to turn me down.”
I roll my shoulders, feeling my bones creak.
Has he lost his ever-loving mind?
“Gramps, why? Why the hell would you want me to stay on after what happened? I’m damaged goods. I’m more use to you taking the fall so you can start fresh with a brand-new executive officer.”
“Pointless, considering I have a splendid CEO and replacing him this close to the convention is simply impractical,” he says. “You know how much I believe in second chances. When Ward Brandt concocted his little fake marriage scheme with his assistant to win our business—and found himself a real wife along the way—we stuck with him. Once he came clean, of course.”
I roll my eyes.
The shit Brandt went through isn’t even in the same universe as this train wreck.
“Whether I stay or not, there’s no point in attending the convention this year. I’ll give you the notes right now—we lost. A humiliating defeat.”