Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 121460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
I couldn’t help myself. As soon as everyone was fully engaged elsewhere, I sidled up to Brodan’s side. I could sense him tense at my proximity and I smirked, feeling a vindictiveness rise in me that no one had ever provoked. “Ava was reprimanded by her boss. That’s the world we live in, Brodan. Fair or unfair, it’s a fact. You know quite well that you’re untouchable here. A powerful man. So what does it matter if you make a young woman look bad in front of her boss as long as you’re having fun? But then, looking back, you always were a selfish prick.” I strode away before he could speak and joined Ellen on the other side of the stage.
My heart raced from the confrontation, but satisfaction numbed a little of the hurt he’d caused.
15
Brodan
Monroe was done playing nice.
I’d say I preferred her being honest over her fake bullshit “professionalism,” but there was no denying she’d pissed me off yesterday.
Mostly because what she said was true.
I’d been so busy trying to make sure she knew how little I cared about her I hadn’t taken Ava Reid’s position into consideration. I’d put her in a bad spot with Anita Cooley. It was selfish.
I fucking hated that it had given Monroe an opening.
Then again, after the way I’d treated her, I deserved it.
This whole situation with her had me off-balance. One second I was seething, channeling every shitty thing that had happened that weekend I found her with Arran into my fury. Then once I’d made it clear how little she mattered to me I’d swirl in a clogged drain of guilt. Her face yesterday when I’d said that about her being a spinster …
I had a feeling she really, truly hated me now.
It was for the best.
Even if the knowledge of that was pressure crushing my chest.
During the break in Friday morning’s rehearsal, a bake sale would open for business. We had bake sales back when I was a kid at Ardnoch Primary. Every term, the kids and parents baked cakes, sold them at break time, and the money helped fund the school.
So as soon as the break bell rang, the kids took off for the cafeteria behind the gym for the sale. Monroe disappeared too.
Lewis caught up with me. “You coming to the sale, Uncle Brodan? Mum’s there with Eilidh.”
“Of course, wee man. I’m going to fill my belly with whatever she’s baked.” Regan had proven herself awesome in the kitchen.
Tables and parents and kids packed the cafeteria. It smelled amazing. I wasn’t really a cake guy, but now and then, I liked a treat. I was unsurprised to see Walker stride into the cafeteria behind us with a visitor’s badge hanging around his neck. He’d insisted on having access to the school in case I needed him for security. Regan had talked about the bake sale at dinner last night, the dinner to which we invited him, and despite his muscular physique, Walker Ironside had a sweet tooth. He had tight control over it, but once a week, he bought pastries for breakfast and then ran a few extra miles to work them off.
“What are you doing here?” I teased.
My bodyguard scowled at me. “The place is packed. Thought it best I be here for you.”
“Sure. That’s believable.”
He cut me a dark look before a nearby table of cupcakes stole his attention.
“None of that.” I wagged my finger at him. “If you’re buying, you’re buying from the Adair table. Regan’s going to kick everyone’s arse.”
“It’s not a competition, Uncle Brodan,” Lewis informed me.
I frowned. “It was when I was a kid.” We always bragged about whose table got cleared first. It was never me. Dad didn’t bake, so it was left to Lachlan and Thane to put something together after Mum died, and let’s just say they weren’t natural bakers.
Following Lewis through the crowded room, Walker at my back, we reached Regan’s table only to discover she was sharing it. Apparently with Callie, our Dorothy’s mum.
Callie’s mum was a very attractive, very young blond.
“Brodan, Walker,” Regan greeted us with that dimpled smile as she rounded her table to hug Lewis into her side. She looked down at her stepson. “How was rehearsal?”
Lewis shrugged.
Guilt pricked me. He’d been off the last couple of rehearsals, and I was worried Monroe might be right about him picking up on the animosity between us.
“Uncle Brodan, I helped Mummy make scones!” Eilidh drew my attention to where she stood with Callie and the blond.
“They look amazing,” I complimented, rubbing my tummy for emphasis.
Regan pulled Lewis behind the table with her as she gestured to Callie and the blond. “This is Sloane Harrow and her daughter Callie. Though, Brodan, you know Callie already from the musical.”
“I do. She’s our wonderful Dorothy.” I reached across the table and held out a hand to Sloane. “Nice to meet you.”