I stick that in theneed to do latercolumn and head inside to finally get a little reprieve from this God-awful day by seeing Tatum.
CHAPTER 7: Tatum Barker
Brilliance at Work
“Honey, I’m home,” Ford calls from the doorway, and I let out a little giggle.
“Welcome home, dear,” I call back from the desk in the guest room where I’ve set up shop.
There are a few stacks of paper scattered on the desk along with my signature three drinks—coffee, water, and iced tea today—and I’ve made some progress on the mountain of work I left behind when I picked up to stay with my ex-boyfriend’s brother in Florida.
The distance feels good. Being in Vegas felt suffocating, but being here with Ford feels…freeing.
The odd thought comes to mind that it’s because Ford has always been home. How can that be true when I’ve spent nearly a decade building a home with his brother?
I push off the thought. I’d cleared enough of my schedule that it was possible, and it’s not like this is open-ended. I have events to get back to Vegas for. Weddings. A charity event I’ve already planned for Archer’s foundation. Life.
I can’t hide out in Florida forever, but the window above the desk in the guest room looks out over the city, and I’m already falling in love with the view.
I could get used to it here.
I can’t pretend like I didn’t flip through a website featuring the wedding venues here. It’s a gorgeous place for a wedding, but that could be the landlocked desert lizard who lives inside me poking its little head out of its hiding place.
I’ve always had a preference for the water.
Even growing up, my favorite place to escape reality for a few hours was North Avenue Beach. It was a nice enough place to look out over the water in Lincoln Park near home, but it doesn’t hold a candle to the gorgeous marinas here in Tampa or the beautiful sandy beaches just a half hour away.
I tug on the scrunchie holding my hair on top of my head, and my hair falls around my shoulders. I toss the scrunchie between my three cups just as Ford appears in my doorway.
“Creativity in motion,” he says, surveying my desk.
I glance at the mess. “I’m sorry. This must really grate on your nerves.” I scrunch my nose up like that scrunchie sitting on my desk.
He folds his arms over his chest as he shakes his head. “Honestly? It looks like brilliance at work.”
I tilt my head, and my eyes soften as I hear the genuine sentiment of his tone.
“Being good at what you do doesn’t mean having a clean desk. It means creating a system that works for you, and clearly this works since you excel at planning weddings.”
I narrow my eyes. “Okay, Bradley. Now you’re just laying it on thick.” It’s like he heard Archer tease me about my mess and took the exact opposite route.
He lifts a shoulder. “I’m not. I had a rough day, and it’s refreshing to see you in your element.” His words are sweet, and a feeling of warmth spreads through my chest.
I raise my arms over my head and clasp my hands to stretch, and then I ask, “Why did you have a rough day?”
“My dad was arrested.”
“Oh, shit.” I jump up from where I’m sitting, not sure if he needs a hug or just some sympathy or some other thing I haven’t thought of. “Are you okay?”
His gaze moves to the floor, and he nods. “I tried calling Archer to let him know, but he didn’t answer.”
Naming my ex has the effect of throwing a bucket of cold water over my head. I sit back down. “I’m sure he knows.” I blow out a breath. His relationship with his family has always been complicated. He chose to distance himself from the family when he found he preferred to pick up a baseball instead of a football, and he felt he made the right choice when nobody chased him to come back.
There’s other stuff, too—reasons he’s always felt like the black sheep, but before I can even form the thought, Ford cuts in.
“My dad called me when I was on my way home.”
“He called you? From jail?”
