Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 89820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Sick kid.
Brooks wasn’t lying about that. He was taking care of his nephew.
And what did I do? Instead of offering him sympathy, I insisted he bring a slew of work home and then bitched at him that I didn’t think he’d done it well enough.
Oh god.
But how was I supposed to know? He’s an arrogant bastard at work, constantly doing everything he can to get under my skin (when he’s not schmoozing). Now I’m thinking I had him all wrong. Maybe that charming façade and over-inflated ego are nothing more than a mask, hiding his soft, gushy center.
Could it be?
Is it possible that Brooks Gentry actually has a heart?
22
I’m sitting in the conference room, going through some last-minute details we need to firm up in our 9 AM meeting with Courtney Perry, when in walks Tenley with two steaming mugs of coffee.
I stare at it skeptically, even when she sets it down next to me. It’s black, just like I drink it. Coincidence or has she been paying attention?
“If you were getting coffee for our client,” I say, “This’ll probably be cold before she gets here. She texted me saying she’s running late.”
She gives me a look like I’m an idiot. “It’s for you.”
“Oh.” Because of that, I help her push the unwieldy chair out from under the conference room table. Then I stare into the mug’s black-brown depths. “It’s not poisoned, is it?”
She doesn’t crack a smile. “Why don’t you drink it and find out?”
Still, it’s progress. “Thanks.”
“Mm hm.” She walks the chair in under the table and picks up her pen, opening a file, ready to get down to business. But I see an opening. And when was the last time I saw one of those? I have to keep the good vibes going.
“How was your night?” I still can’t believe she showed up at my door, that she knows Ellie. When Ellie came home from work, I immediately asked it about it, before she had time to slip off her shoes. She filled me in, but only because I wouldn’t let her go until she did.
She looks up. “Fine.”
“How long have you been volunteering at the women’s center?” I ask. It hadn’t have been easy to find out Ellie tried to swindle her. I’m sure it stung, especially since she thought she was paying her tuition out of the kindness of her heart.
“Sorry about Ellie.”
“I know you are. You told me last night. No need to apologize again,” she says without looking up. “No need to apologize for her either.”
“I appreciate how generous you are—I mean, were going to be. Can’t think of anyone else who’d have helped her like that, no questions asked.”
Her face softens and she puts down her pen. “She wasn’t playing me entirely. She still needs help. I’m not giving up on her. Won’t be giving her any money, of course. But I can give her my time if she needs it.”
“She could use a good role model. I’m the only thing she’s got and I’m not exactly a strong, female figure,” I say. “I mean, there’s our mom, but the two of them aren’t really talking right now. Long story. I think you’d be a good influence on her.”
“That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, Gentry.”
“Don’t get used to it.” I wink. “Look, she and I don’t get along all the time. But I’m trying. I really am. I gave her and Jace an open invitation to stay with me as long as she needs to. But I know she’d be happier living on her own. She’s just having trouble taking those first steps, and I don’t know how to help her. She doesn’t want to listen to anything I say. Funny. I can win a court case like no one else, but when it comes to her, it’s like I’m hitting my head against a brick wall every time I open my mouth.”
“Maybe it’s your approach. All that charm and wit is useless on family.”
I sniff a laugh. “True.”
She nods. “Let her know I’m still here if she needs anything.”
“Will do.”
“Tell me about Jace,” she says, a small smile on her lips. I could tell by the way she was talking to him last night that she loves kids.
“Jace? Oh, he’s my best bud. He’s six. In kindergarten—well, he’s graduating tomorrow. So he’ll be in first grade. Loves playing with cars and airplanes and trains. And he plays baseball.”
Her smile widens. “He’s really cute.”
“And he knows it.”
She rolls her eyes. “Must run in the family.”
That’s an insult, but she’s also smiling, so I don’t bother to search for a witty comeback. For once, the mood is actually light. It feels good to have something other than tension, simmering between us.
“I thought—” She stops suddenly, her face turning pink. She gives me a small, sheepish smile. “When I heard you had a sick kid, I thought—"