“You know all three of those kids put in equal effort.”
Dad shakes his head.
“I’m still baffled that his father put him in a management role for the lodge. After his past, I wouldn't be so generous.”
“It’s not like he killed anyone. He was a troubled teen who still graduated from high school despite the town rumors, and he even went to college and came back with a degree in business. He’s not a kid anymore.”
The fact that I’m defending Dutton to my father after the way he and I just interacted doesn't make sense, but whether I care for him or not, he did put in the work to better himself. My dad is just destined to hold a grudge forever.
And so am I, I guess. For the same reasons, but from a different view of them. While my father doesn't like Dutton for his past of breaking the law, whether it be destroying property, breaking windows, stealing, fighting, or anything else a teen could do, leading to Dutton being the man my father has arrested the most by far in his life as the town sheriff, I don’t like Dutton because every single one of those arrests took my dad’s attention from me. I won a medal in track, but Dad didn’t see it because Dutton broke into the high school science lab. State finals for volleyball, Dad missed the last match because Dutton chose to do some shoplifting. The list goes on.
Sure, he’s not a kid anymore, but Dutton cannot be trusted.
Especially not by me.
Chapter
Three
DUTTON
I slamthe phone down and then swivel my chair away from my desk and computer. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, loosening the tie that is determined to choke me to death.
Either that or it’s the fact that it’s so hot in this goddamn place. How high is the thermostat set to? The season might be swiftly changing into fall, but it’s not winter yet.
I grab my notepad and jot down a memo to ask Gavin about the heat. He is by far the best when it comes to shit like the temperature of the main building. If you want to know anything about the maintenance involved with this place, Gavin is your guy. He keeps this place in pristine condition.
“Mr. Richford.” My assistant, Bethany, appears at my door. “I heard a loud noise. Can I assist you with anything?”
“Yeah.”
She perks up with a smile.
“You can leave and close the door behind you and stopcalling me Mr. Richford. It’s just Dutton,” I say. Her smile doesn't even flinch.
“You got it,” she says in a cheery tone.
And that is why she works for me. My snarky comments have zero effect on her.
I should give her a raise. She does her work, never complains, and most importantly, she never talks back either.
Unlike some people I know.
On another breath, I twist back to my computer and stare at the newest email sitting in my inbox, and my mind immediately goes to the phone call I just attempted to have.
All correspondence can be sent through email. A paper trail is best since I don’t trust you.
Today is a new day, and I assumed that Brooke and I could get started on the details of this wedding cake. A phone call seemed like the quickest way to check this task off my list, but no, she wants the entire conversation in an email.
My fingers type as fast as they can, the clicking of the keys filling the silence of my office as I put as much detail as possible into the first email, leaving no room for questions on her end. I want answers only. No need to drag this out.
Once I hit send, I close my email and open the shared company calendar that Grace, Gavin, Henry, and I share to see what is on my schedule for today.
I should have looked at this last night to be prepared for today, but I didn’t.
I have a love-hate relationship with this place.
I love the memories this place has given me. Well, most of them. But I hate the expectations this place has of me, all because I hold the last name Richford.
