He has a good point.
“I can’t believe you sleeping on an armchair all night would bring about this kind of epiphany,” he says.
It was never my intention to fall asleep on that armchair. I’m surprised my back isn’t hurting. “You can either leverage the unexpected or let the opportunity slip through your fingers.”
“And God knows Kazimir Lindstro¨m would never let an opportunity slip through his fingers… especially when the prize is so tempting.”
“If you’re talking about the fact that now I have theammunition I need to pursue my goal of acquiring that Montana craft brewery, but who’s been keeping me at arm’s length, then yes.”
“We both know that’s not what I’m talking about. When it comes to your merger and acquisition goals, aren’t you counting your chickens before they hatch?”
“I just need the owner to crack open the door so I can slip in my big toe. But first, I need to lay down the foundation for him to roll out the red carpet.”
“In other words, an image makeover that will bust open those doors.”
“It’s good as done,” I say.
“Supreme confidence on and off the ice.” He shakes his head. “I can’t believe there was a point in time you were shitting bricks because you didn’t think you could take on the management of your own companies when your former CEO moved to Australia. Look at you now.”
“Don’t be fooled, buddy. I still shit bricks every day. I just don’t tell you about it.”
He chuckles. “So, you’re stepping out in a big way at Saturday’s Active Kids fundraising gala?”
“Alina said if I’m going to do this, I might as well?—”
A figure with her arms crossed over her chest enters the kitchen.
My eyes bounce up to the fresh-faced blonde and my heart stops as my thoughts evaporate.
I lower my phone.
“Good morning,” Harley says.
Her beautiful, radiant eyes shine at me, the specs of gold and the green melting together in the morning sunlight.
She’s wearing white yoga pants, a yellow t-shirt, and the fluffy, pink slippers I bought her. Her blonde hair is bunched up at the top of her head. She isn’t wearing a whisper of makeup.
No lash extensions.
No injected lips.
No artifice.
Harley Lancaster is glowing.
I unglue my tongue from the roof of my mouth. “Morning.”
She uncrosses her arms and her nipples salute me. They’re so perky, they’re begging me to?—
I’m going to hell.
I’m thirty-nine.
She’s twenty-seven.
She’s my ex-stepson’s ex-girlfriend.
She’s my guest and roommate.
