“Work stuff or family stuff?” Gavin asks, remembering our conversation about our fathers.
I shrug. “Maybe a bit of both. But nothing I can’t handle.” I’m used to it, after working for Loot for so long. And because of the strange conversations we had at the dinner, I know he’s used to family and business drama as well.
“I’m sure you can handle anything that gets thrown at you, Riya. But it doesn’t mean you should have to. You can always find another job. You’re smart.”
I look at him, my mouth slightly open. No one has really been...protective of me because of Dad. Sonia, Ajay and Mom all assume I can handle it and don’t need any interference.
Because I can.
I finally say, “I’m doing just fine. And I don’t want to talk about it anymore. What about you and your dad? Has Gina called?”
Gavin shrugs and eats the rest of his brownie. “I think so. They’re probably scheduling the meeting soon.”
This is better. I would much rather talk about his stuff. “Are you going to tell him your ideas about it? How you want to do it?”
Gavin’s smile fades. “Probably not.”
I leave it at that, having only brought it up to deflect from talking about my own father. And if I press more, he might take that as permission for him to press me more.
Despite the heavy conversation, we enjoy the rest of the picnic, playing lawn games until it’s time to go back to the house. I firmly trounce Gavin at bocce ball and he dominates at croquet. I restrain from hitting his head with the croquet mallet when he brags about winning, so I call that an extra win for me.
Sooner than I’m ready, it’s time to return to the house. That means I have to get back on the horse, who to be fair is a lot calmer than I thought she was going to be. Daisy stays calm on the ride back, even if she gets closer to Mister Ed and his rider than I’m happy with.
Back at the house Harrison tells us that dinner will be served buffet style between six and seven, or we can go to the kitchen and help ourselves to anything in there any time we would like. He also tells us what time to meet if we want to go to his planned event tomorrow and come with tennis shoes.
The second I’m off the horse, I escape Gavin’s easy smile and run to my room. I haven’t done any work on the financial proposal for Harrison, and it’s time to remember I’m not a guest invited to a friend’s house for a vacation; I’m here to work.
I open up my laptop and start typing our offer. Dad isn’t going to like some of the terms, but this sale could do so much for our name and my ability to sell what I want, there’s no option but to be cutthroat to get this art.
Plus, Mom won’t let Dad disown me or fire me, so I’d rather deal with the fallout of an angry Dad than no art.
After I’ve made the offer the best I can, I edit it six times. When I get to the point that I can’t see the words on the screen anymore, I hit send and breathe a sigh of relief.
I finish up a few more work tasks, and by the time Sarah comes in to check on me, I let her in on my offer to plan an event. She tells me Harrison gave her the heads-up, and I ask her for the things I need to make the day a reality. She stays to brainstorm some great ideas with me for the event and leaves me to more work when we’re done.
After my eyes start to blur a second time on the laptop screen, I close the computer. I stretch out the kinks in my back, wincing when I acknowledge a vanity’s stool might not be the best place to work for hours on end.
That makes me look at the clock, and I swear. I’ve blown right past dinner, and it’s now 9:30 p.m.
My stomach growls, yelling at me for missing the meal.
I make my way down the stairs and try to remember where the kitchen is. I must be getting used to the house, because it only takes me a few wrong turns before I find the right room. I turn the light on and open the fridge, trying to see what I can whip up.
“Late night?” asks an even-more-relaxed-than-I-thought-possible Gavin from the entrance to the room.
He’s wearing the same worn jeans from earlier and a faded T-shirt, and he’s barefoot, looking even better than when he’s dressed in a suit.
I would give anything for him to not be so attractive right now. He’s hell on my concentration.
I’m glad I didn’t change straight into my pj’s, instead opting for a short sundress in case I ran into anyone on my way to the kitchen.
“Yes. And worth it. I just sent Harrison the proposal that’s going to win this sale.” I turn my attention back to the fridge and the pressing issue of dinner. Now that work is done, my stomach is making its needs known. And it doesn’t care how much my libido wants to keep staring at Gavin.
“That’s funny, how’d you get my proposal off my computer? But thanks for sending it in.”
“I’ll let you have your delusion. You won’t have anything else when I get the sale.”
“What are you cooking for us?” Gavin changes the subject before we can get in this argument again.
