I level her with a look that makes her laugh die. “Sinclair’s smart. And compassionate. And yes, she’s beautiful, so sometimes people miss the other things about her and just judge the outside.”
Georgia bristles, picking up the cold detachment in my eyes as I look at her. “She’s also in Manhattan while you’re here. Alone. Didn’t she have time in her busy schedule to come and be with you? Or was one trip away from Fifth Avenue enough for her?”
“I’ll tell her you stopped by and asked after her,” I say with a tight look that is far from friendly.
Then I pick up my axe and split the piece of wood I have set up clean in half.
One week earlier
My coffee’s going cold, sitting untouched in the center console of my car. I haven’t been able to take a sip for the past hour. I’ve been too focused. Just like all the other times over the past three weeks.
But this time it’s different. This time I’ve gotten reckless and positioned myself so close that I don’t know how I’ve not been seen. Then again, people don’t always see what they’re not expecting to be there.
My phone rings and I hit the speaker button, my eyes remaining fixed on target.
“Denver?”
“Sullivan?” I reply, running a finger over my lips as another person enters from the street.
A woman with a toddler. Low threat.
“How’s LA?” Sullivan asks.
I purse my lips. “Warm, I expect.”
“I’m calling to ask you to come back,” he says, missing what I just said.
“I can’t do that.”
“The guys Dad is interviewing are shit.”
“I can send you some recommendations,” I say, not biting.
“Fuck off.” He exhales. “He doesn’t need some guy that’slikeyou. He needsyou.”
My lips curl up. Sullivan can get straight to the point when he wants something.
“How’s Sinclair? She still working out with her trainer?” I ask, not bothering to work up to obtaining the confirmation I want from him.
If he’s going to get straight to it, so am I.
“Brad Garrett-Charles? That jerk?” He scoffs with disdain.
This time, my lips really do curl up. I’ve always liked Sullivan.
“She hasn’t worked out with him since before they tried to snatch Monty. And she won’t again. He’s moved to LA. His new girlfriend has some reality TV show she’s filming there, or something. Sinclair didn’t even go to his leaving party. Told me she was bathing Monty that night.”
My breath rumbles in my chest like a purr. “Good.”
Sullivan sighs. “My meeting’s about to start. Same fucking time tomorrow?” he grits.
I smirk. “Same fucking time. Same fucking answer.”
He curses me as he hangs up.
Our daily calls are always the same. He asks me to come back from LA. I tell him I can’t.
Because a person can’t return from a place they never moved to in the first place.
