Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 145231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
“Oh, fine. Your job, your life, whatever. I get it.” I can practically hear her rolling her eyes. “Still, not to trash the vibe, but you could be a teensy bit grateful.”
My throat tightens.
It takes real effort to restrain the violent insults that want to claw their way up my throat.
“I am grateful. You helped me tremendously as a friend and I appreciate it,” I clip.
“Well, yeah! Anytime. I mean, you’re not hooking us up. You’d be introducing us. Where’s the harm in that? Anything that happens later would be totally on me.”
“Yes, but—”
She’s animated again, acting like she can convince me to do her bidding through sheer guilt tripping force of will.
“You know he’s hot stuff on the market. The most eligible dude in KC, some say,” she tells me. “He’s also a lot less accessible than he was before, I hear. Girls used to see him at bars and such, but ever since he got on this Cardinal thing, he’s been scarce. The dude’s a workaholic and he’s not easy to flag down.”
Right. Like that makes me feel better about setting her up with my boss, the man who legitimately rocked my world so hard it’s never been the same.
“Sure,” I say.
“You know what? All the brothers are hot, but he’s the only one left who’s really available. Without a kid, I mean.” She pauses. “No offense.”
“None taken,” I lie. “But Kayla—”
“Salem. All my single friends would kill for an in like this, and you’re holding the key.”
So will Kayla, judging by her tone. She’s already murdered her pride to go after Patton Rory like a cheetah chases down its prey.
“I get it,” I tell her. “I really do. He’s hot—I guess.”
“Smokeshow.”
“And you’re no hag, of course. You’d make a lovely couple. But I wonder, maybe if you just walked in one day, would it be enough? I bet he’d notice you. Surely you can—”
“Oh, Lemmy, Lemmy. I can’t believe this,” she complains. “I’ve been such a good friend to you. I gave you this job and everything, and now you wanna dip on me when I ask for a teensy little favor?”
Yes.
Hell yes, you entitled frenemy brat.
If you were so desperate to snag Patton Rory, maybe you could’ve tried harder to hit on him at your riverboat party years ago or gotten yourself this job.
It’s eating me alive, along with a hundred other things I can never say to her.
She’d never speak to me again if I did, and she’d absolutely find some new way to make my life a living hell.
Sometimes, I think I wouldn’t mind the consequences, but I’ve been in her orbit too long to risk it.
Sadly, she did get me this gig and the mentorship, courtesy of her oh-so-important father, who made the recommendation to Dexter Rory personally. Even if it’s becoming likely this was all a ruse to get her an in she wanted, there’s no denying Kayla is the reason I’m here.
“Fine,” I say firmly. “I’ll see what I can do. But just so you know, he’s not the smiley bachelor man you think he is. He’s short-fused and grumpy and kind of a hardass, just between us. But Kay, I have to go.”
I hang up before she can say anything else, barely resisting the urge to throw my phone off the building. I certainly can’t afford to replace it.
As it is, I’m going to pay for sassing her by doing her bidding.
A man clears his throat from behind me and I whirl around.
Apparently, I’ll pay for my sass right this second, because His Highness, King Grumpybutt himself, stands there in his full glory.
Today, he’s decked out in a silvery grey suit that makes him look more imposing than ever.
He’s a businessman through and through and he just heard me insult him on the phone. While I was supposed to be working.
Screw the phone. Can someone throw me off the roof instead?
There’s an apology in me somewhere—another one, I mean—but I can’t quite find the words. Nothing except a whispered, “I really hope—”
“I came by to let you know I’ve secured a company sitter for Arlo. A backup, if you need them.”
“What?” I don’t understand.
“So there won’t be a repeat of yesterday,” he explains, his face unwavering.
“Um, that’s—wow.” Real coherent, Salem. Way to show him you’re a consummate professional. “Thanks, but there’s really no need for that. He’s back in kindergarten this week and our babysitter, Mrs. Gabbard, she’s over her family emergency, so—”
“No.” The word is hard, clipped. His gaze is steely ice, almost like the rest of him. “Parts of this position are on demand, Miss Hopper. Weekends, evenings. You knew that when you signed the contract.”
“I knew that. You’re right.” I gulp and dip my head. Pride doesn’t work here, I tell myself. Just get over it and take the damn offer. “Thank you. That’s very kind. I’ll call them if I need a backup plan for sure.”