Page 46 of Dirty Work

“Gone with the wind, pal. Sorry. That’s what happens when you don’t answer your phone. Or respond to your messages. I must have left you twenty voicemails and at least as many texts and emails.”

“Shit,” I say, out loud this time. It’s no use making excuses. “This is on me. I’m sorry.”

“It’s your loss. Just let me know how you want to proceed. I can start looking for another location. But I don’t know how long it will take to find something that meets all your specifications. You’re a tough man to please.”

I slump onto a stool, resting my elbows on the hard cold marble of my kitchen island. “Yeah, I know.”

“And you have to promise me you won’t go AWOL again.”

“I promise.”

He signs off, and I take a deep breath before making the next call. When Connor picks up, I fall on my sword before he can chew me out.

“I fucked up. Big time. We lost the Miami property.”

“I figured as much. What happened to you? Did you lose your phone or something?”

My phone? No. My mind? Yes.

“Temporary insanity,” I mumble, eyeing the Keurig enviously. I could use a cup of coffee. Or something stronger. Like lighter fluid.

“What?” Connor asks.

“Never mind. I’ll tell you about it later. Right now, my priority is straightening out this mess I’ve gotten us into.”

“How? The landlord’s rented the property to someone else. You said so yourself. We’ve got a lot of time and money invested in this already. This could set us back months, if not more.”

He isn’t saying anything I haven’t told myself in the past five minutes, but that doesn’t make his words any easier to hear. He’s had my back since we were seven, and this is how I repay him. What kind of a dick does that?

My kind, apparently.

“I know.” A heavy weight lands on my thigh, and I look down to see Roscoe’s head resting there, his soulful brown eyes looking back at me pityingly. Great. Even the damn dog feels sorry for me. “Like I said, I fucked up. You trusted me with this project, and I let you down.”

I’d let us both down. Lost focus. Taken my eye off the ball. The one thing I’d sworn never to do. Well, that stops. Now.

“I’ll fix this somehow. I swear. I’m taking the first flight I can get to Miami. I’ll talk to the landlord. See if there’s any way he can back out of the deal and give us the space. And if that doesn’t work, I’ll stay down there until I find another location. A better one.”

“Look, Jake, you don’t have to—”

“Yeah.” I cut him off. “I do. I’ll text you with my flight information.”

I hang up before he can try to convince me to stay. Or whatever he was going to try to convince me to do. I shoot off a quick text to my secretary, asking her to book my flight and hotel, and I’m about to go hop in the shower when I see Ainsley hovering at the other end of the island. Roscoe abandons me and trots over to her, flopping at her feet.

“You’re leaving.”

She doesn’t yell. Or call me any of the names I definitely deserve. Her voice is soft and steady, but it guts me nonetheless.

“You heard.”

She steps over Roscoe, crossing her arms in front of her chest. Her hair is still all sexily mussed from sleep, but at least she’s put some clothes on. I don’t know if I could have stopped myself from fucking her against the counter if she marched out here naked. One last hurrah before I have to head to Miami for who knows how long.

“What did you mean when you said you were temporarily insane?” she asks.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuuuuck. She heard that, too?

“How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to know you think the past forty-eight hours were a huge mistake.”