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“What do you mean?”
“That I’m in your hands completely, Hailey Connor.”
Chapter Eight
Reid
“Boys, I just heard the front door. Bianca’s home. Don’t let my roast beef get cold. We’ve had enough business talk for one day,” Mom said, rising from the leather armchair. We were in the library of my parents’ house.
“Yes, ma’am.” Dad chuckled. It was tradition for the three of us to talk shop when I stopped by for dinner, until Bianca came home from school. I updated them on all things related to the hotel. He had to keep stress at a minimum, or he risked his high blood pressure causing yet another stroke, which was why I always made sure to filter the information. He didn’t need to know about the operational issues that gave me headaches on a daily basis. He couldn’t do anything about them anyway.
“
Reid, you look worried,” Mom said. As usual, she took one look at me and knew. Sandra Davenport was the best mother I could have asked for. She was kind, attentive, always fussing around the family.
“How are things working out with the PR agency?” Dad asked.
I schooled my voice to appear as carefree as possible. “They’re very professional. I’m sure this will all stop being an issue in no time at all.”
“Bianca said Hailey’s been very helpful with her as well,” Mom went on.
My sister gave me a very smart smile. No, wait a second. That was a smug smile. Shit, what did she have to be smug about?
“So, Reid. How was the city run on Wednesday?” she asked innocently.
My parents looked at me in shock.
“You participated in a run?” Mom asked.
“Yes, he did. Voluntarily,” Bianca supplied helpfully. I had no idea where she was going with this, but my instincts were sharp. I had to change the topic.
“Hailey and I needed to sort out some details, and that was the only free window she had.”
It was a ridiculous excuse. I knew it. They knew it. They didn’t say anything, but Mom’s smile was now as smug as Bianca’s.
Okay. So maybe I was somewhat of a recluse, but I liked my lifestyle. Those years after Dad’s stroke had shaped me, had forced me to make some choices I might otherwise not have made, but I discovered I actually thrived under them. The discipline, the focus. Marion had accused me of being a robot, of not allowing her to enjoy her life.
How could she, when I didn’t seem to have an interest in anything beyond the hotels? She’d looked for excitement elsewhere. I was beginning to think any woman would do the same.
After dinner, my parents retired to the library, as they’d done since I was a kid.
The second I was alone with Bianca, my sister’s expression changed from smug observation to attack.
“So, Hailey’s been super helpful. Talked to her again and tried a few of her strategies. Even Felton shut his mouth.”
“I’m glad, Bee-Bee.”
I couldn’t believe Hailey was going so above and beyond her job. But then, I remembered this felt personal to her. When she’d told me about her school years, I’d had an urge to stand between her and anyone who tried to hurt her. How could I react to her like this?
“She’s also going to help me pick a prom dress.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I asked her to.”
“Why didn’t you ask Mom? Or me?”
She rolled her eyes. “Because you’re no help. And Mom’s idea of a pretty dress includes sleeves and lace, possibly in neon colors.”
