“I’ll send everything over right now,” Hillary promises, tapping on her keyboard. “Where are you, anyway? It’s not like you to be without solid wifi.”
Tell me about it.
“I’m going to be on the road for the next few weeks.” I glance out the window at the expansive prairie. It stretches as far as the eye can see, tall grass blowing in the mild spring breeze. “And from the looks of it, my connectivity will be spotty, so call if you need anything urgent.”
We disconnect, and the instant I close my laptop, Lucy pounces.
“What happened with Keke and Zane? I thought it was practically a done deal.”
“So did I.” I slide my laptop into the bag and twist around to put it in the back seat. “I take it you haven’t seen the news?”
She shakes her head. “I’ve been too busy packing the last few days to pay attention to celebrity gossip.”
I wish I could say the same.
“Kane is no more.” I rub the back of my neck, trying to work out a knot. I probably should’ve taken the opportunity to stretch my legs after all. “Like so many aspects of my life, their relationship blew up after you quit, and I’m left picking up the pieces.”
Lucy scoffs. “Did you really expect your endorsement deal to be their primary concern when decoupling?”
“Maybe not their primary concern, but some consideration would’ve been nice, given the time and energy we’ve sunk into the deal. Not to mention the large sum of cash they would have received for their services.”
“Ay, cabrón. How can such a smart man be so clueless?”
“I’m not—”
“Spoiler alert, Kane was never going to be endgame.”
“You can’t possibly know that,” I argue. “Not unless you have some magical celebrity crystal ball, in which case, give me a heads-up next time.”
“I don’t need a crystal ball.” She drums her fingers on the steering wheel. “Kane was as fake as a three-dollar bill. Their managers probably cooked it up for publicity.”
“Bullshit. They never would have wasted time negotiating with us if they were going to torpedo the deal at the last second.”
Lucy arches a brow and gives me a look that suggests I can’t possibly be this dense. “Does the word showmance mean nothing to you?”
There’s that damn word again.
My fingers itch to look it up on my phone, but no way am I going to give her the satisfaction.
“Ready for tip number two?” she asks, not pausing long enough for me to answer. “If you bothered to pay attention—to delve beneath the surface—you’d have seen the warning signs, too.”
Warning signs? What warning signs?
“You’re a great guy, Miles, but when it comes to dealing with people, you’re surface level.” She shrugs. “Lots of acquaintances but no close friends. Focused on the big picture and missing the details that are right in front of you,” she adds, turning the radio up and saving me from answering.
Could she be right?
Were there red flags I missed in our negotiations? Subtle clues I was too damn shallow to pick up?
No. That’s ridiculous.
I’m Mr. HR. The extrovert of the Hart family. The Hart brother with actual heart.
So what if I don’t have close friends? I have my brothers. And Mama Hart. And Triada.
I have everything I need. Don’t I?
Chapter Seven
