Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 27438 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27438 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
We spend the next four hours poring over reports, plans, and ideas. By the time everyone goes to their offices, I lean back and rub my hand over my face in frustration.
My phone beeps in my pocket.
Just thinking about you. Love you.
I grin and type a quick reply. Love you too. Call tonight. Promise.
“You need to go home,” Van says as he walks into the empty conference room. He drops into a chair across from me. “You’re burning out.”
“I’m busy. I was gone for a week.”
He watches me impassively. “Go home,” he repeats.
“I fired Brian.”
“Oh, trust me, all of San Francisco knows. He hasn’t been quiet about it.”
“I don’t care. I’m sick of him going over my head. Jesus, I am the head.”
“Agreed.”
“Did you know about this?”
Van’s face doesn’t move. “If I’d known, you would have known, too.”
“We’ll recover.”
Van nods. “What do you need? Besides to go home?”
“I don’t know.” I drag my hand down my face for about the thirtieth time today. Van’s right, I do need to go home, take a real shower, sleep for about four hours, and then get back to work. “I guess I’ll go home.”
“I had the kitchen stocked,” he says and consults his phone. “You don’t have any appointments until ten tomorrow morning.”
“You did that on purpose.”
He just blinks. Van’s always been a stoic man.
“See you at nine, then.”
“Excellent.”
I return to my office to gather my suitcase and get some paperwork in order, but it seems Van already did that when I was in my meeting.
If I move to Montana, it would be best if Van moves too.
Jesus, I’m a prick. How can I expect my assistant to move to a different state, just because I’m in love?
That’s demanding a bit much.
I shake my head and walk down to my car, which has a busted windshield, thanks to what looks like a baseball bat still sticking out of it.
I pull my phone out and call Van.
“Yes, sir.”
“Call the cops. I’m not going home yet.”
* * * *
“Jesus,” I mutter in frustration. It’s been a month since I left Montana, and it seems like I’ll never be able to go back.
Not for any significant amount of time.
“I know you’re trying to get to Montana,” Van says, “but Mr. Tanaka only wants to talk to you.”
“I can talk to him in Montana,” I reply. “They have internet there.”
“But the team is here,” Van reminds me, watching me with cool gray eyes. He’s still stoic, but I’ve worked with him long enough to know that he’s frustrated with me.
“You think this is ridiculous.”
“No, I don’t. I think you’re head over heels for this woman, and wanting to be with her is normal. But could she move here?”
“She has a business.”
“So do you.”
I shake my head. “Her business isn’t easy to move.”
“Neither is yours.”
“Fuck.” I take a sip of water, wishing it were something stronger. “So you’re saying this is hopeless. That I should break it off so I can appease Tanaka?”
“I didn’t say that,” Van says.
“Stop being so fucking diplomatic and tell me what you do think.”
“I don’t know how you can have it both ways,” he admits. “Don’t deck me, but it’s a tough situation. You make a lot of money, Brody.”
“I don’t give a shit about the money.”
Van stares at me until I sigh, blowing out a deep breath.
“Okay, I care about the money, but it’s not more important than her.”
“What if you make this firm a partnership? That way, you can delegate more, and over time become more of a silent partner, commuting a couple of times a month.”
I steeple my fingers, letting the suggestion roll around in my head.
It’s a damn good one.
“What do you think about moving to Montana?” I ask him, and smile when his eyes widen in surprise. “I work better when you’re around, and I would rather that didn’t change.”
“I’ve always wanted to see Montana.”
“Do you like snow?”
He swallows hard. “I don’t know.”
“Well, if you’re up for it, you may find out.”
Before he can reply, my phone rings. It’s Brooke, FaceTiming me.
“Hey, sweetheart.”
“Hi.” She smiles widely, then kisses the screen. “Thank you for these beautiful flowers. How did you manage to send me flowers without me knowing?”
“I called Micah,” I reply. “He promised to keep it a secret.”
“Well, he did a good job. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
She bites her lip. I’m staring at the screen, soaking her in. God, I miss her.
“Have you come any closer to having an idea on when you’ll be able to come back?” she asks.
“Not yet,” I reply, and watch as the hope dies from her gorgeous brown eyes. “I’m sorry, babe, I’m trying to get this all figured out.”
“I know.” Her voice is quieter now. “I’ll stop asking you.”
“You can ask all the time,” I assure her. “Are we on for our phone date tonight?”