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)
“Pick up your laptop. We’re going for a change of scenery and fresh air.”
I stare at him.
What could ever be wrong with this scenery? This room is like every librarian’s dirty fantasy with bookshelves soaring to the ceilings and a pleasant wood scent tinged with old books.
But I don’t protest.
When he stands and starts heading for the door, I pick up my laptop and follow.
The small study just outside has tons of sunlight. It’s all glass, overlooking the Puget Sound. I’m so stunned I sit on the edge of his massive desk.
A few small round chickadees go soaring off a branch, dancing around the manicured trees closest to the windows.
Those little birds always make me smile, and I guess it’s too obvious. I’m not expecting his hand when it falls on my shoulder.
“Explain the bird thing,” he growls in my ear. “Was it really just too many documentaries like your sister said? I don’t see the appeal.”
I look up at him. “You’re missing out. I guess it started when I was young—Dad used to have a boat and I was so scared of the water. But then one day this little finch landed next to me while we were out sailing. He wouldn’t leave. The little guy just kept singing his heart out, and before I knew it, we were out on the water, halfway to Bremerton where I’d always get scared.”
“A comfort animal,” he says with a nod.
“Yeah. And I just thought maybe if that little bird was brave enough to be out here sunning himself, totally fearless, why not me?”
“It’s a nice story,” he whispers, rubbing my shoulders.
It’s also nice sharing it, something I’ve never done with anyone else. I look up at him and smile, stealing a kiss.
When I look back at the window, something moves in the shimmering water—a harbor seal, I think.
“Jesus,” I breathe. “Is every part of this house heaven?”
“It’s gorgeous scenery. Relaxing. Even an oversexed bosshole needs to unwind,” he explains. “Whenever I feel like I’m about to wreck my company and make my grandparents disown me, I work from this room.”
“I can see why,” I say, turning slowly to take in the panoramic views.
And then I realize what he just said.
“Oh. Would your grandparents really turn you out if you tanked the company?”
He sighs.
“No—and that makes it worse. If I destroy their legacy, they’d be too understanding.”
“I mean, evil reviews aside, I don’t think you have to worry about much. You’re a hardass, but the company runs well for the most part. And even if you left, I’m sure people would keep working out of fear you’d return.”
He glares at me.
“There’s more to leadership than having people tell their children you’re the monster under their bed, and the negative reviews—”
“Aren’t your fault,” I finish. “We’ll take care of them as soon as we can.”
He flops down in his leather chair and taps his desk, gesturing to the seat across from him.
“Only if we get to work,” he says, turning back to his screen.
I sit down and work for thirty seconds before I’m staring out the glass wall at the Puget Sound.
Yeah, there’s no way I’m finding my marketing magic here. Especially when the gorgeous view of the water isn’t the only pristine sight in front of me.
Brock’s mile-wide shoulders roll with every breath, light and rhythmic.
The man is just breathing, and he still looks like a giant.
We work diligently—I try—for the next hour.
Then his phone dings and I glance at the time.
It’s coming up on five o’clock and we need to get an early start tomorrow. So I pick up my laptop, ready to start heading back to my room.
“Sunshine?” he calls.
My hand lingers on the doorknob as I look back at him. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“There’s an email we need to talk about.”
“Okay.” I walk over next to him.
“I hired a medical research firm to look into your dad’s condition—”
“You—what? Why? How?”
My whole world starts spinning.
He shrugs like he just told me he ordered us lunch.
“I had a team inquiring this morning. You’d be surprised how little red tape exists when the hospital director belongs to the same country club. Now, I just need your signature to get his records sent over.”
Oh my God.
Am I still breathing?
“Brock. This is...really not necessary,” I force out.
“Pippy—”
“You’re not calling me Pippy now!”
“I told you I was.” There’s a smile somewhere in his electric-blue eyes.
“Sunshine, his condition is serious, I don’t need to tell you. The muscular issues causing him so much grief are beyond the reach of your average doctors from a very average city hospital. That’s why we need backup.”
“I’m aware. He’s in the hospital now because his muscle control keeps getting worse...”
“Degenerative myelopathy is nothing to play around with. He could take a turn for the worse rapidly if he doesn’t get more than pills and physical therapy. He needs real treatment.”