Page 31 of Chris

Fuck.

Feelings didn’t work well in business, or a job. It would be hard to turn off. He was human, after all.

So was she.

Yanking open the back passenger door, Chris climbed in the vehicle, and before he had even buckled up, tires squealed against the pavement. Next to him, his father looked his way.

“And what’s that about?” Gian asked.

“A pissing contest—what else?”

Gian made a noise under his breath. “If you think someone else might be better to do this job, then I am sure we can come up with a solution to make it happen, son.”

“No, I’ll do it.”

That, he understood for sure.

Not even a question.

At all.