Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 109164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Her fire drives me crazy.
My hands lift. “I’m not trying to educate you, Bailey. I’m only trying to consider Carter. I gave him the job at Silver to get him away from the slum bar where he had been working. It was the place that caused his current habits,” I offer in explanation. For some reason, at this moment, I want to level with Bailey. I want to tell her all of my secrets, and that is no good.
“Listen, I’ve known Carter for a very long time,” I admit. “We had mutual friends, and Carter became one of mine. I watched his downward spiral and did nothing, Bailey. Silver might not be the best place for him, but it’s safer than where he was. There, I can keep an eye on him. I can try to help.”
Her face softens. “So, imagine how good an actual restaurant job would be for him,” she says, almost pleading.
“But if he’s working daytime hours, that gives him too much time at night, Bailey. That’s why I try to keep him busy through the typical party hours. He’s less likely to use if he’s busy and tired.”
She blows out a harsh breath. “True. I never thought of that.” She gives a bit. “Can’t we give him the chance? Maybe with a more reliable income and more responsibility, he’ll have reasons not to use?”
I consider her points. Essentially, working this muscle job—as Bailey calls it—would be the perfect prelude to manager. And I have to admit, Carter would be excellent, assuming he remains sober. That would also keep him busy during the evening hours, and as far as income goes, he couldn’t make that kind of money anywhere else.
“Okay. He’s got one chance,” I say, and she smiles wild. “But you need to get him started on his recovery before the work begins.”
She nods her head. “How long do I have?”
“One month.”
She reaches across the table and places her hands on top of mine.
“Thank you, Drew. This means . . . everything.”
The feel of her skin on mine, coupled with the unearned reverence in her voice, has my body locking up. My eyes scan her face unabashedly, and a crimson blush sweeps across her cheeks. Her eyelashes flutter as her eyes cast downward, signaling she’s embarrassed by my perusal.
“Bailey, look at me.” My voice is hoarse as I try to control my basal reactions to this woman.
Her head tilts so that her azure eyes once again meet mine, and I smile.
“It’s your job to make sure everything goes off without a hitch. If you truly believe he’s the right person, I trust you. The best way to thank me is to make sure he doesn’t screw it up.”
She doesn’t say anything, but I can see the brief hesitation. She knows that what she’s promising means putting a lot of faith in someone she doesn’t really know all that well. The fact that she’s so determined speaks for the kind of person she is. Her heart is big, and she’s loyal—two characteristics that mean everything.
My phone rings, and I look down to see it’s my attorney, Ralph, calling.
“Excuse me for one moment,” I say to Bailey.
“Ralph, what can I do for you?”
“Drew,” he says by way of greeting. “That other property you’ve had your eye on is rumored to be hitting the market within the month. If you want this, you need to get a head start.”
“Can you book me a table for two tonight?”
“Since when did I become your secretary?” Ralph chuckles.
“Since I agreed to give you double your fee if you make this happen.”
“Consider it done,” he says before hanging up.
“I’m afraid I need to cut our day short. I have an urgent matter to attend to. Feel free to stay and order lunch. Have them add it to my tab,” I say, standing.
Bailey stands too. “Actually, I have some of my own business to attend to. Thank you anyway.”
We walk side by side through the restaurant until we’re out on the street.
“Allow me to call you a car,” I offer, but she shakes her head.
“I’ll be fine, Drew. When and where should I be next?”
A slight gust of wind blows between the buildings, and Bailey’s long, dark hair flutters around her head. A stray strand whips across her face, and without thinking, I step forward, running my hand across her cheek and placing the errant strand behind her ear. Her intake of breath lets me know I’m not the only one affected.
“Apparently, this is becoming our thing,” I say, smiling as I remember when I did the same thing at Silver.
Her lips part and cheeks darken, and it takes everything in me not to lean forward and capture her mouth with mine. She swallows, and my heart skips a beat.
She steps back, breaking the connection. “You better go,” she says, smiling awkwardly.