Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 76959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
“Have you considered a career in marketing?” Hank Bartmess, the head of marketing at Abdons, asks Trina.
The question is rooted in sincerity because she just blew a hole in the proposed spring campaign.
Trina walked into this meeting prepared with flow charts, statistics, and a determined mind.
Lloyd, Hank, and I listened as she ripped apart the plan that’s been in place for months.
Her approach is more targeted, cost-efficient, and social media based than anything we’ve done in the past.
The fact that she pulled all of that together today is impressive.
“I haven’t.” She tosses Hank a wide-mouthed smile. “Should I?”
Hank nods. “It’s no secret that I’m retiring next year. We’ve got a good team in place, but no one like you.”
That’s because there isn’t anyone on the face of this earth like her.
Scratching the side of her nose, Trina glances at me. “I like what I’m doing now, but no one can predict the future.”
I want to.
I want to plan my future down to the minute when I’ll draw my final breath.
Between now and then, I want to fill every second of it with time spent with her.
“I like this idea,” Lloyd pipes up from where he’s sitting across the boardroom table from me. “Graham and Trina are the company’s dynamic duo.”
That draws a hearty chuckle from Hank. “We all make a hell of a good team.”
“We do,” Trina echoes his thoughts. “Abdons has the best team in the business.”
We do fine.
There are a few employees I’d fire today, but my current contract prohibits that.
Those people are still here because Lloyd is in their corner.
“I call this meeting adjourned.” Lloyd laughs as he bangs his fist against the table. “It’s time for a scotch.”
Seeing as how we’re nearing the end of the workday, I’m inclined to agree with him, but I have to opt-out.
“You don’t have to ask me twice.” Hank pushes back from the table. “Are you joining us, Mr. and Mrs. Locke?”
“I can’t.” I stand. “I have something to take care of.”
That perks my wife’s brows. “You do?”
Nodding, I reach out a hand as she glides to her feet. “I’ll see you at home in a couple of hours.”
“Where are you off to, Bull?” Lloyd asks as he rounds the table headed toward the door with Hank on his heel.
“I want to surprise my wife with something special.”
Trina squeezes my hand, luring my gaze to her face. “You don’t have to do that, Graham.”
As tempted as I am to take her in my arms and kiss her, I resist that in favor of a soft brush of my lips against her cheek. “I do have to do it. I promise you’ll like it, dear.”
She catches my chin in her hand. Holding it there, she stares into my eyes. “I know I will, darling.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Graham
I fist my hand around the box containing the diamond earrings I just purchased for my wife.
I made a return visit to the same jewelry store I went to when I bought the engagement ring for Trina and my wedding band.
The woman who helped me that day was eager to lend a hand today. She set me up with a pair of earrings that will look beautiful on my wife.
I explained that they were a belated wedding gift, and after the store clerk sighed and commented on how lucky my wife is, she covered the box in wrapping paper and topped that with a glossy white ribbon.
Tucking the box into the inner pocket of my suit jacket, I swing open the door to a bakery.
I’m in Brooklyn at a place called Dobb’s Bakery.
I’ve never been here before, but judging by the T-shirt Trina was wearing last night, she has been.
Normally, I’d stop by the bakery in the West Village that sells the over-baked cheesecakes that Lloyd thinks are the best thing in the world, but tonight I’m planning on putting a smile on my wife’s face.
As soon as I step inside Dobb’s, I’m greeted with the smell of vanilla and cinnamon.
I look around the eclectic space.
There are glass display cases filled with cakes, cookies, and dozens of other sugary concoctions.
A few tables sit in a corner surrounded by mismatched wooden chairs. The walls are lined with framed photographs. Some are of the bakery’s interior, but many are of people.
I step closer to them to get a better look since there’s a line of people five deep waiting to be served.
“Can you imagine having thirteen kids?” A deep voice comes at me from the left. “The Shaws are amazing people, aren’t they?”
I glance over to see a man with graying temples. “The Shaws have thirteen kids?”
How the fuck did I not know that?
“And a few grandkids.” He huffs out a laugh. “I’ve been coming here weekly for years. I know them all by name.”
Without any urging on my part, he decides to prove that point. He starts rambling off names beginning with Elijah, then Gary, and Shirley. I can’t keep up, but still, I listen intently until he says it. He says the name I’ve been waiting to hear, “and there’s Trina and…”