“It’s what I know to be true.”
The look Georgia throws my way tells me she’s ready to castrate me. Probably the same look Joey gave me too.
I’m surprised one of them hasn’t already done it. In high school, wherever Presley was, Georgia wasn’t far behind. The two of them were as thick as thieves and it seems nothing has changed.
Me?
I cut all ties with Pinecrest. It was easier to move on that way.
“Anything else you want to know?” Georgia asks, not as defensive as before.
“Look. I know you hate me. I can’t say you’re my favorite person either, but we’re both going to be working here. I’ll stay out of your way if you stay out of mine. I can talk to Sam if I need anything. And as long as the guests are happy, I’m happy.”
“Good.” She nods.
I return her nod. “You’re free to go.”
She doesn’t say another word as she leaves the office, closing the door behind her.
Fuck. I have a headache and I’ve talked to two people. I have no idea what the rest of the day is going to hold, but Ihave a feeling a lot of my days are going to be like this in the coming weeks.
People are resistant to change. It’s the one thing I know about life. I hate change. The people at my firm in Seattle hate change. With most mergers ending in lost jobs, no one likes it.
Here? I’m hoping to get everyone on board to get this place into shape. I hope more people are like Sam and not Georgia.
Not that I don’t think she’ll help, but damn, I don’t want to deal with people hating me on reputation alone.
It’s not like I wanted to leave.
I had my entire life here mapped out. A white house with a wraparound porch and a swing. Two, maybe three kids.
A good life.
That all went out the window in one night.
The thought of settling down here again makes it feel like the walls are closing in. I can fix this place up and go back to Seattle. My life isn’t here anymore. It’s in the city.
I can sell this place then get the fuck out of Pinecrest.
Should be easy enough, right?
Chapter Seven
PRESLEY
“Why are they always out of the good kind?” Poppy whines.
I shake my head. “I don’t know, baby. Are you sure you don’t want the yellow box?”
Her nose turns up in disgust. “It’s too cheesy.”
“Then we can’t have mac and cheese for dinner tonight.”
“Why can’t Mr. Moore get me the blue kind?”
I smile down at her. “Even for his favorite customer, I don’t think he can.”
“Can we have pizza then?”
