Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 54148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
He nods to my computer screen. “Planning on doing some baking?”
“That's the idea.”
After an awkward pause, he says, “I didn't know you liked to bake.”
“I don't. Well, I haven't on a long time. I told Holly I'd bring a dessert to her baby shower.”
It’s been almost three weeks since I moved out of Cal and Hollywood’s house. She still texts me almost every day. I don't always respond, but I wouldn't say I've been ignoring her. As much as I miss getting to talk to her face-to-face, I think this separation is good for us. Hollywood and I haven't been apart since we were fourteen. We grew up together, and in a lot of ways, we helped shape each other as people. I'm learning who I am when she's not around to support me.
And I'm beginning to wonder if she wasn't entirely wrong about there being things I haven't dealt with.
I had hoped the nightmares would at least slow down now that I’m sharing a bed with Austin. Unfortunately, that hasn’t been the case. What has changed is that I'm able to fall back to sleep faster with Daddy's arms around me, but it’s a tossup when you factor in the remorse I feel for kicking or smacking him awake.
The bell on the entrance door chimes as a tall, lanky man in a tan suit enters the office. He glances around like he's not sure if he's in the right place.
“I'll leave you to it,” Jeremy says, before heading back down the hall.
I ready my best customer-service smile.
“Hi,” I say to the man. “Can I help you?”
“I hope so.” His lips disappear as they spread apart. “I just have a couple of questions I hope you can answer.”
“Sure. I can try to answer your questions, but if you need more technical or specific information, I can have one of our project managers come chat with you.”
He rests his arm on my desk. “I was wondering how long this place has been around for.”
“Oh...” That's not usually the first question we get, though people are often curious about the company’s background. “I think Austin and Jonah started the firm around twelve years ago? I'm sure the specifics are listed on our website.”
“Austin and Jonah are the owners?”
“Yes. Jonah Parkes and Austin Pope.”
The man nods. “And is Austin Pope the man you're currently living with?”
My smile freezes in place as every muscle in my body goes taut.
“Excuse me?”
“You moved out of Caleb Larkin's house.” He pulls a phone from his jacket pocket and flashes me a recent photo of Cal helping Hollywood out of his truck. It must be a recent photo, considering how very pregnant she looks.
My throat closes. I wish Austin was here instead of out on a job site.
“Whoever you are, I'm going to have to ask you to leave.”
“Oh, did I forget to introduce myself?”
“I doubt it.”
He offers his hand for me to shake. I don't take it.
“Name's Greg Wallace,” he says with a smirk. “I'm with the Channel 5 News out of Nashville.”
“I don't really care who you are. You need to leave. Now.”
“You know, if you'd just responded to one of my emails, I wouldn't have had to come all the way down here.”
“You shouldn't be here at all,” I say. “This is harassment.”
“From what information I've gathered, you've been carpooling to and from work with Mr. Pope for the past few weeks,” he says, ignoring my protests. “Is he your boyfriend? Actually, you don’t need to answer that. It’s already been established that you have a preference for older men.”
I scowl. "Mr. Wallace, I think it's time for you to fuck off."
“Now, that’s not very professional.” He sighs. "I just need a quote, McKenzie. I'm sure you can understand the tight spot I'm in, being a working girl yourself.”
My heart hammers in my ears. I don't like the way he says my name, casual and familiar, like he knows me.
“If you don't kindly fuck off back to Nashville, I will call someone who will be glad help you fuck off.”
“Let me guess, one of your pals who broke into Russell King's mansion to conduct an illegal interrogation?”
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
“Oh, I think you do.”
“The hell's going on out here?” Mike strides into the foyer, tattooed forearms on full display. His razor-sharp gaze cuts straight to Greg Wallace, and though the other man's smirk never wavers, he nearly stumbles while taking a step back. "Unless you're looking for someone to build you a roof to jump off of, I suggest you get the fuck out of this office."
Greg Wallace smooths his tie. “Very well. I suppose my story will have to make do without your perspective, Miss Sommers.”
Mike moves toward him, and he doesn't stop moving until the loathsome reporter is fully out the door. He turns back to me, his gaze softening.