Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 141676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 567(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 567(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Patton rolls his eyes.
“Seriously, Dex? That’s what you’ve got? A gut feeling?”
“I don’t believe in coincidences,” Archer says. “How’d you get a hold of this, anyway? Looks like an internal police file.”
“Ask no questions and I’ll tell you no lies.” I fold my arms.
“When we started this company, we agreed that everything would be aboveboard,” Archer says with a heavy sigh.
I spread my hands. “Sometimes, you’ve gotta fight fire with fire. Especially when doing everything the right way didn’t yield results.” I nod at the report. “I still want the Mill, but I don’t want to risk the company getting trapped in legal quicksand.”
He nods slowly.
Patton groans. “You guys will stop at nothing to get out of making a buck.”
“He’s not saying quit, and neither am I. We need to look, Pat,” Archer says. “Someone at the golf course might remember something.”
I don’t bother telling him to be careful since he’s extra cautious in everything he does. As for Patton, I want to yell at him to grow the fuck up, but I also don’t want to start a bloody fistfight in our conference room.
“I should go follow up,” Archer says, standing abruptly. He rolls the paper up and tucks it into his jacket pocket as he stands.
Patton waits for him to leave before turning back to me with a fuming look.
“I didn’t know you were still pals with that Army chick you kept alive,” he says. “What does Miss Winkley think about that?”
“It was years ago, Pat. We were never together.”
“No, you just slept together once.”
I glare at him coldly because it’s all I can do not to wince.
“Look me in the eyes and tell me you’ve never had a one-night stand.” When Pat doesn’t meet my gaze, I smirk. “Exactly. So stop being a smart-ass prick and leave my relationship alone.”
“Relationship?” Patton’s eyes pop. Fuck. “You mean your fake relationship, right? Or do you mean—”
“Shut it. You’re not welcome to stick your face into shit you don’t understand,” I warn.
“You’re right, I don’t understand. What is going on with you two? She’s changed you, Bro. You’ve grown a personality.” He shrugs and leans back.
“Are you done giving me shit yet?”
“I mean it. You’re different now. More mature, more alive. Arch would say that’s a good thing. Me? I kind of miss the boring old Dex.” He throws me a smile he knows will stick as I’m heading out the door. “I should probably go raise some fresh hell. Gives him a sense of purpose.”
“You’re an idiot,” I snarl, but there’s no fire in my voice.
He fucking knows. He revels in it.
But when we need him to join us with something important—like investigating Haute for real—he’ll get over himself and do it, even if he complains the whole damned way.
And if I know my little brother, he absolutely will.
When I’m done with work, Junie texts to say she’s finishing up at the bakery, so I head over.
Part of me doesn’t know why.
This is her domain.
The less I’m there, the less entangled our lives will be when we inevitably have to untangle them.
It’s hard to help myself. Especially when there’s something so unapologetically Junie about this place, complete with Colt’s cookie hanging up and the tall, leafy plants in the corner.
“Hey,” she calls as I push the door open. “I’m in the kitchen!”
The staff has already gone home and it’s just her here.
“You need to try harder with that work-life balance thing,” I tell her, leaning against the doorframe. The kitchen looks as meticulously clean as I’ve come to expect, except for the corner Junie occupies.
Wearing an apron, with her red hair piled up in a knot and her hands covered in flour, she looks like a domestic goddess.
I’m awestruck that I’m the lucky jackoff who gets to worship her.
“Work-life balance? What’s that?” she snorts as she looks up, revealing a smear of flour across her face. “What would you know about that anyway, mister?”
“It’s almost eight o’clock, sweetheart. When did you get here?”
“Not like you’d have any idea, seeing as you were gone before I got up this morning.” She shrugs and turns back to the chocolate torte in her hands, giving it a thin layer of icing. “Besides, this isn’t really work.”
“You’re baking. I beg to differ.”
She looks up again, a wave of laughter in those glassy green eyes. “I can bake for fun some days, you know. And I had an idea.”
I join her, looking down at the torte. It’s not just the dark chocolate being smoothed over the top, there’s a splash of color.
A cardinal, I realize too late.
A bright-red cardinal with black eyes and an expression of pure mischief.
“For my mother?” I ask.
“Nope.” She looks up at me with the sweetest smile. “For you.”
I glare at the black cake. “Sweetheart, you know I don’t do—”
“I know. You want to shoot anything sweet into the sun, but hear me out.” She taps the dark base of the torte. “Dark chocolate and espresso. Just a pinch of sugar. I used the darkest cocoa we have. This baby isn’t my usual. So you’re going to shut your mouth and love it.”