Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 83070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
He looks at me as if I’m full of shit. “Expanding, huh? To what?”
“Corporations,” I say, my stomach squirming. “I had a meeting with the president of a major corporation this afternoon. Things are really looking up for me.”
Dad hums before taking another long drink. He looks bored as hell, and his eyes only light up when Aurora returns.
The realization that my fear was right—he doesn’t care whether I’m here or not—is crushing. My chest aches, and tears burn in my eyes. This is what happens when I give him access to me.
Every freaking time.
“Are we ready to eat?” Aurora asks.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Dad follows her to the oven, disregarding her question. “I’d feel a hell of a lot better about this if we got you checked out.”
“Kent, I’m fine.”
“Let’s turn the oven off and run to Urgent Care. Dinner can wait.”
“Kent …”
Aurora looks up, catching my attention. The look she offers me is apologetic, but all I can offer her in return is a shrug. She might be surprised by Dad’s offer to blow off dinner, but I’m not.
“I need to answer this call,” I lie, needing some air. “I’ll just step outside for a moment. Excuse me.”
“I mean it, honey,” Dad says, oblivious to my statement. “Let’s get you checked out.”
My steps fall gingerly as I head down the hallway and through the foyer. Tears dot my eyes as I step onto the porch.
Why? Why do I put myself through this? Why do I let him do this to me?
I grip the railing and take a deep breath, willing my tears not to fall.
“How is your little endeavor working out?”
My world feels perilously close to spinning out of control. I just need one thing to stop—one good, solid thing to focus on. And out of all the things in the world, only one thing comes to mind.
Gannon Brewer could kill not two, but three birds with one stone.
I dig my phone out of my pocket and pull up my contact list, quickly finding the number I programmed in this afternoon. My fingers fly over the keys, fueled by my need to go back inside with good news to share.
Me: It was nice meeting you today. I hope you’ve had time to reconsider my offer. I’d love to schedule dinner with you as soon as your schedule allows to discuss things further.
I hit send before I can talk myself out of it.
My hand trembles as I stare at the phone, unsure if Gannon will even respond. He probably left the card I gave him in his pocket and didn’t think twice about it. But as I start to put my phone away, it buzzes.
A sliver of excitement and apprehension slides through me as I look at the screen.
Gannon: My schedule is full.
I stare at the sentence. Of course, his schedule is full. He’s a busy man. What did I expect him to say?
I read his message again.
For some reason I can’t pinpoint, this doesn’t feel final. It feels like a challenge. A game of cat and mouse.
My favorite.
Me: Fair. How about a working lunch?
Gannon: What part of my last message did you not understand?
Me: The FULL part. I only need five minutes alone with you.
Fuck. I bite my lip, trying to figure out how to get my foot out of my mouth. Maybe he won’t read it in a punny sort of way.
Gannon: I’ll admit that I’ve never been propositioned quite like this.
My cheeks blaze.
Me: I have an incredibly unique skill set. You should see what I can do with a little moisture and good lighting.
Gannon: Do you ever quit?
Me: No.
I wait one minute, and then two. Nothing. Yeah, I’m gonna regret these later.
Enough time goes by that I check both of my email accounts, do a quick scroll of Social, and respond to a text from my mother that I’ll call her later. I’m about to give up when I’m alerted to a new text.
Gannon: 5:30 at Tapo’s.
Tapo’s? I balk. Tapo’s is a fancy breakfast spot. Surely, that’s a mistake.
Me: 5:30 in the morning?
Gannon: You can have your five minutes over breakfast. Take it or leave it.
My thumbs hit the keys, ready to ask him if he’s kidding because five thirty in the morning is asinine.
But then I stop.
Because he’s not kidding. He’s trying to make me back down and give up.
“Not happening, Mr. Brewer,” I say, typing out my reply.
Me: That’s so generous of you. I’ll see you bright and early!
He doesn’t respond, and although I want him to reply, we should end it here. Besides, I need to go share my good news with the family.
“Right.”
I snort and head back inside.
Chapter Five
Carys
“Well, this is a first,” I say, checking my reflection in the rearview mirror. “I’ve never gotten dressed and put on a full face of makeup before six in the morning in my entire life.”