She waved away my concern. “Of course it is. You are always welcome here.”
“Why aren’t you at school? You flunk out or something?” Devon, a little shit seventh grader, asked. He had a mouth full of braces and looked like he didn’t own a hairbrush. Not much had changed since I’d last been there six months ago.
“No, Dev, I did not flunk out. But thanks for the vote of confidence. I’m switching back to school here in Boston. I’ll be able to volunteer here a few times a week again.”
The kids cheered as though I’d told them they won the lottery.
Why hadn’t I come back earlier? This was where I felt the happiest, useful, and appreciated.
I bet Alex would like it here. A few of the kids reminded me of him or the version of him from high school—smart kid with a chip on his shoulder and something to prove. He’d grown into the driven man I couldn’t seem to stop thinking about, even during board meetings or here at the center.
“All right,” I said, shaking off thoughts of the sexy man who hated my guts. “Whose ass am I kicking on the court today?”
Cheers went up as the kids tugged me toward the basketball court. I hadn’t thought to bring a change of clothes, so it looked like I’d be sweating through my Armani suit and playing basketball in dress shoes.
Six hours later, when the kids finally allowed me to leave, I was exhausted, happy, and running late for my shift at Top Shelf. My phone chimed as I jogged from the center out to my Range Rover. If I hadn’t been thinking about how fast I’d have to drive to avoid an ass-chewing by Parker, I’d have thought twice about checking my messages. Instead, I swiped the screen, and my stomach dropped.
Where are you?
Why didn’t you go to the lab?
How could you be so irresponsible?
This ends now. I want your ass in my office at 8 tomorrow.
ANSWER ME NOW.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
ALEX
Parker hated lateness. He fully lived by the adage that five minutes early was on time, and on time was five minutes late. I’d say lack of punctuality was his number one pet peeve, but watching Trevor flirt with customers might top that chart, even though he’d never admit it. The tick in his jaw said it all.
So when I parked at Top Shelf with only three minutes to spare, something I never did, I felt justified in my mild panic.
My stupid piece of crap car took a solid ten minutes to start again. If I didn’t take it into the auto shop soon, I’d likely get stuck on the side of the highway in a snowstorm, but who had the extra cash for an expensive car repair lying around?
Not me.
Grumbling, I shut off the car and hustled out into a cold, dark Wednesday night. Someone hovered near the rear staff entrance, hunched against the cold, illuminated by the floodlight above the door. Whoever it was faced away from the lot, speaking to someone on the phone.
“Yes, I am taking this seriously.” Silence, then, “Okay, I get it.” An arm flew up as a huff left the frustrated speaker.
Ryder.
I recognized the ridiculously thick gold ring he wore on his left middle finger. Some dumb family crest he’d worn since the day I met him. It was gaudy as hell, a monstrosity with rubiesand diamonds glinting in the floodlight. Exactly the type of thing you’d expect a rich frat boy to wear. Ryder probably rubbed his dick on it to get off.
“Could we talk in the morning, Dad? This is an important conversation, and I’m late for—”
Silence again.
“What do I want to talk to you about? Um…”
I’d never heard anything but confidence crossing into arrogance from Ryder. Not tonight. His voice was hesitant, almost fearful, and it had me feeling like an intruder. I slowed, then glanced over my shoulder. Should I return to my car to give him some privacy? Parker would kill me if I came in late, but this conversation seemed private.
“Well, I want to talk about my future. My plans formyfuture.” The conviction in Ryder’s voice had me frowning. His future? Wasn’t he getting an MBA, then sliding into some high-ranking role at his father’s corporation until the day he took over? He’d sure bragged about it enough back in high school.
This silence lasted longer than the previous, probably filled with his father’s words. Unhappy ones if the way Ryder curled in on himself was any indication.
