Page 97 of Crimson Love

“Well, I haven’t had frozen pizza in over six years, so I’ll look forward to that too.”

“Now you’re just breaking my heart. Dagnabit. Back to your office with you. Go dream about Jett Cross, lament over lavender soap for the rooms, and reorder the stationery. You have things to do.”

“Thank you for lunch. You fill my stomach and my heart.”

I’m so happy, I almost skip around the corner back to my office. Felicity is right. I have a long list of things to do and worrying about my father is not on that list.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

ALL IN

Jett

A fter too many days of more drama than a made-for-T.V. movie, it’s been a bunch of nothing for most of the week. I shouldn’t say nothing. My new life with Lennon is the shit. It’s been all about her. Teaching her. Letting her explore. Learning what she likes.

And so far, I haven’t found anything that she doesn’t like.

I’ve not only struck gold with a woman who cares about everyone around her more than she does herself, but she’s strong, resilient, and sexy as fuck.

And being the one who can teach her and watch every moment of it...

Yeah.

I’m the one falling faster than a boulder rolling from the top of the mountain. The farther I go, the faster I fall. The momentum of the last few days hasn’t helped.

Sure, there’s been a lot of sex. But there’s also been late-night conversations, early morning coffee, and even after hour raids on the manor’s kitchen. If I didn’t know the extent of the security system and cameras in every inch of the public spaces in this place, I would’ve put Lennon on the stainless-steel counter and fucked her in the middle of eating gelato and pizzelles.

Back when Harlow talked me into trying out the west coast, my desire to move into the manor was less starting over in another small town. The last thing I wanted to do was to take advantage of Devon by staying here for free.

Now that I have a trust fund I never wanted, I need to compensate him. I’ll do that right after I buy a new truck. Clive is such a slow worker, the only saving grace is that Lennon’s stolen car is in a million parts hidden away in his greasy garage. I don’t have to figure out how to return it for a long time.

The bad news is that the only garage in town is booked for the unforeseeable future. There’s no way I’m getting my truck in. We were lucky we made it up the mountain after we were almost killed being run off the road. I need something to drive, and since there are no dealerships in Winslet, I guess I’ll order one.

Sounds like something someone with a trust fund would do.

I guess I should get used to it. The board meeting that will put all other meetings to shame is on the horizon. I didn’t do an interview with The Daily Market Report, but Stonebridge did put out a press release detailing me, my background, and the fact I now hold a seat on one of the most coveted boards in the country.

That was last night. I was the lead story right after the closing bell rang. Chrissie fed the information to Stonebridge’s public relations department who knows all the right people on Wall Street. They had no problem blowing me up on the news since the vote to move forward on the Helix contract is on the horizon.

It didn’t suck, but it also wasn’t great. They reported every bit of information Chrissie gave them and brought up every question anyone could have about me.

I’m a private guy. You get used to that when you’re in the military.

But listening to them report on me did something. If my first board meeting didn’t lite a fire under me, that did. I almost don’t recognize myself.

Patrick decided to stay in Winslet through the vote. Harlow made it clear she’s never leaving. And this is what I need to talk to them about.

For once, it’s me calling a meeting. I’m not doing it in The Greenhouse or the conference room. I asked them to meet in Harlow and Devon’s suite. We’re sitting around the dining table with the fire crackling across the room. There’s a fresh blanket of snow outside and the manor has shifted from a five-star summer resort to a ski lodge. Once there’s enough snow, the slopes will open.

“Why do I feel like this isn’t good? You’re leaving, aren’t you?” Harlow’s question is hesitant and nervous. She looks from me to our father. “I told you to ease him into it. This damn vote pushed everything too fast.”

Patrick shifts in his chair and stares at me. “Is she right? That’s it? You’re just going to leave?”

I drag a hand down my face. “Why does everyone think the worst? No, I’m not leaving.”

“Oh, thank goodness.” Harlow exhales a relieved breath. “From now on, I’m making it a rule that if anyone calls a family meeting and it’s not bad news, you have to declare that at the time you call the meeting. Do you know what I’ve been through for the last three hours? I thought you’d had enough and were moving back to Iowa.”

“I didn’t,” Patrick says. “He won’t leave Lennon.”