Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 127991 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127991 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
“Stop.” I rolled, pushing him onto his back. “Look, I appreciate you being protective or whatever. It’s sweet,” I whispered. “But I’m not sharing gossip or hoping you’ll take my side against my boss. I can handle myself, and I can handle Layla, too—”
“Bullshit,” he said, low and fierce. His eyes were a dark storm of lust, affection, and frustration.
“Pardon?”
“I said that’s bullshit. You didn’t handle it, Reagan. You were cold and polite to her.” He said the word like a curse.
“Of course, because she’s my boss,” I pointed out, keeping my voice down though it wanted to rise.
“So am I, but you don’t try that shit with me,” he hissed back.
“Because I don’t want to sleep with Layla,” I said in the same tone. “And I’d rather not be fired. I’m trying to succeed at my job here—”
“So that you can get a job with your father.”
His words, like the rest of our conversation, were hardly more than a whisper, but they landed on the bed between us with an almost audible plop, like a rock thrown into the center of Lake Wellbridge, sending out ripples that pushed us to opposite sides of the bunk.
I sat up, ramrod straight, and stared down at him. “That… is none of your business.”
“Isn’t it?” he shot back. “You’re mine—I mean… my employee,” he corrected quickly. “And you’ve already admitted that your goal is to convince your father that you’re serious about a career in social media so he’ll give you a job on his campaign. Of course, you still haven’t said why the hell you’d want that. Your father campaigns for big business and family values. He’s never, to my knowledge, spoken up for any LGBTQ issues. Doesn’t it bother you that he won’t take a stand?”
“Yes, of course it does,” I whispered fiercely. Then I frowned.
How the hell had we gotten to this? How the hell had Thatcher missed the point so damn badly? We’d both been on edge all day, but this tense, whispered conversation—while my whole body ached to feel Thatcher inside me and one small woman on the far side of one thin-as-fuck door held us back—had me clinging to the “edge” with my fingertips.
I took a deep breath and tried to speak calmly.
“My dad’s attitude hurts JT,” I admitted. “And I hate that. For a long while, I told myself that since I’d never come out to my parents, it didn’t hurt me personally, but that’s not true. It does hurt that he doesn’t go to bat for people like me. But… my father’s not evil. He does decent things, too. He’s got a moderate voting record compared to other people in his party, and he supports charities and programs that provide training for underprivileged people. But he can’t do anything unless he can get elected, and to get elected, he needs my support.” I sounded like one of his campaign ads, and judging by Thatcher’s lifted eyebrow, he knew it. “I’m just saying, refusing to be seen in public with him or making a giant, public stink about his platform isn’t the way to get him to make a stand on the issues that are important to me. Once he’s elected and I’m on the inside, I’ll have the ability to push him on those issues.”
Thatcher’s mouth twisted up in an expression of fond skepticism that I recognized well because I’d been seeing it on my parents for years. It was like setting a match to dry paper.
“Look, I love my family,” I whispered. “They don’t have to be the very best people for me to love them. Heck, they don’t have to understand me or even support me for me to love them. Apparently, I go around loving people with zero regard for my personal needs.” And wasn’t I staring down at a prime example of that? “I’m not going to change my mind because you don’t like it.”
Thatcher’s annoyance crumbled into concern, and a line appeared between his eyebrows. “Reagan, I wasn’t criticizing you.” He blew out a breath and sat up also. “Talking about this was the furthest thing from my mind when I was waiting for you tonight, and I apologize for leading us down this road. I was only trying to convey that I don’t want you to ever accept less than you deserve or to… to feel like you need to be anyone you’re not. I want you to feel empowered to stand up to Layla when she’s asking you to do things that aren’t in your job description. I want you to realize there are bigger, more fulfilling jobs out there than working for your father if you decide to leave PennCo. I want you to know that your voice, your perspective on the world, are valuable and deserve to be heard—”