Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 46159 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 231(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46159 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 231(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
Cam hummed. “So he’s a mature man, maybe well-off…? Dominant. A Daddy. Presumably lives his life just fine. So I’m thinking he’s capable of deciding for himself what he’s ready for?”
Oh, turd.
“Dude, you don’t know what he’s already done for me,” I said in my defense. “After our date when he brought me back here, I made some comments about how he didn’t have any Christmas decorations…? And before I knew it, he hired a freaking decorator to come over, and now I’m walking around in Santa’s workshop. And like, dinners and lunches and—all of it. He insists on paying. He drove me to dance rehearsal, he—”
“He likes to dote on you,” Cam murmured. “What’s wrong with that?”
I huffed a breath and deflated. “What can I give in return?”
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know he measured affection in money. I guess you’re shit out of luck.”
I rolled my eyes to myself. “And you say you’re not a brat.”
“I’m not!” he laughed. “I’m serious. Unless he’s one of those rich fuckers who only sees money, chances are he doesn’t give a fuck. Maybe, and hear me out—this might sound crazy—but maybe he just wants you.”
I opened my mouth to respond, because I actually had an argument, but that was when I heard a knock on the door, which meant only one thing.
“Crap,” I whispered. “Cam, lemme call you back. I think Wyatt’s been eavesdropping.”
“Oh shit,” he chuckled. “All right, later.”
“Later.” I reached over and ended the call, and I told Wyatt it was okay to come in. Then I ducked lower into the water so he could barely see me over the bubbles.
“Hey, brat.” He smiled carefully and stuck his hands into the pockets of his suit pants. He’d rolled up the sleeves of his dark blue shirt at some point, and I appreciated the forearm porn.
“Hello, sneak.” I blew away some bubbles.
His mouth twitched, and he walked closer.
“How much did you overhear?” I had to ask.
He released a breath. “Let’s see. I stopped outside the door when I heard you telling your cousin you’d met someone. Then I left when you asked how he was doing. Once I got to my study, I remembered I’d forgotten my coffee in the kitchen.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I told myself I was better than someone who eavesdrops, so I walked back to the kitchen through the living room instead of the hallway, and then I failed taking the same route to the study again, so now there’s a cup of coffee on the table right outside, and I started listening in when I heard ‘Daddy Wyatt, yo.’”
A giggle burst out, ’cause it was funny to hear him say “yo.”
But that was one impressive run-through.
“I take it you have a birthday coming up.”
I nodded. “On Wednesday.”
The tension was a little nerve-racking. I didn’t know what he was thinking or if he was mad or…
He nodded once and took another couple steps toward me. “I see. That’s, ah…” He cleared his throat and eventually sat down on the edge of the tub. “I won’t intrude on the birthday talk, but I felt the need to let you know that everything your cousin told you is spot-on. If I valued money more than…whatever else, I would’ve been happy before we met. I would have loved my life, Parker. Instead…the man you met in the office when you came up with the Christmas present for my uncle…” He lifted a brow.
I chewed on the inside of my cheek and nodded slowly. That man hadn’t been happy. He’d been rude, indifferent, and closed off.
“I spend recklessly sometimes because I don’t care,” he murmured. “I haven’t earned half of what I’m worth. I was born with money, and it made me resentful long before I sank into a lifestyle of repetitive comfort.”
I half squinted, a little confused. “What do you mean by resentful?”
He shrugged slightly. “I was never really close to my own parents, because they do value money more than anything. If a hobby doesn’t cost more than what most make in a year, they don’t bother. It has to be golf and yacht clubs with them. And you won’t see them at the public course in Calabasas—it’s Scotland, Florida, and Spain. Clothes have to be expensive. They have to fly private. They need to host big dinner parties just so people can see how much they have.”
He was closer to his uncle, I bet. Not that I knew much about Clarke Abrams, but I’d heard enough through the company grapevine. He cared for his employees—we had good benefits and stuff. He absolutely loved his family, and he adored his wife very, very much. Employees with children could send their kids to a private day care near corporate for less money than most people spent.
Wyatt motioned for me to turn around, and he grabbed the shampoo bottle and the showerhead.