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But whatever in the hell it is, he can't begin to guess. The thing with Glen? That was nothing. If she's mad about it then he can't begin to guess how or why.
He slides the car into one of the spots. The one closest to her office. The little red sports car is right beside him.
"Come on inside, I'll get you your check," she says, finally. She doesn't sound angry, per se. Which is unexpected, to say the least, after how she's been acting all night.
Callahan follows her in. Whatever's got up her ass, he'll figure it out. But right now, he's just going to have to play to her tune and see how things go.
They climb the short ramp outside the little shack. It'll have to come down soon, with the way that the factory itself is coming together. She'll probably take the interior office until she moves on to… whatever the next thing is.
Through the front section, where that upstart kid got lippy with him. Into her office. Callahan had seen it before, when she brought him around that first day.
She reaches down into her desk.
"I'll be by to transfer deeds in the morning," she says. Professional. Flat. Whatever the hell is wrong with her, she's not damn happy, that much is clear.
"You want to tell me why you're so upset?"
"No," she says. Flat. Like that.
"Alright. See you tomorrow, then."
"Goodbye, Philip."
He lets out a long, low breath. "See you tomorrow."
He knew even as he said it that he wasn't going to.
Chapter Forty-Four
Maybe it was disrespectful. Maybe she shouldn't have done it. But when she sent someone else, instead of going herself, to pick up the deed and transfer the one in Lowe Industrial's name over to Phil Callahan, it was as if she had just had a weight pulled right off her chest.
Like she'd solved all of her problems at the same time. Everything had been about that ranch. About getting ahold of that property. And now she had it. She'd paid a pretty heavy price, but in the end she'd gotten what she came for.
That was what made her a winner, whether or not she liked the way she had to do it, she'd done what needed doing.
What made it less pleasant wasn't that she'd gotten too close. That happened. You make mistakes, you move on from them. No, what was upsetting was that she still didn't really feel bad about it. She still wanted to keep doing the same things.
She wanted to go back to the ranch. She wanted to sit and have a beer with Philip. She wanted to watch a movie with him that she'd probably seen three times back in Nevada. But now, with him, it felt different. It was practically a different movie with him there, because it wasn't about what was happening on the screen, not really.
It was about laying there on the couch with her head on his chest and just. Relaxing, for once in her life.
If she could, she'd go back right now and do it. She'd take that any day of the week.
That was what was worrying her, because she sure as hell couldn't afford to make that mistake again, not knowing full well what it meant.
Not when she knew exactly how much it could damage her—her reputation, both professional and otherwise, how much it could make her look weak.
If she wanted to stay in this business, she had to look stronger than anyone. She had to be stronger than it was possible for a person to be, it seemed like. And this wasn't the way to get it done.
She was just being flighty. Womanish. She was putting the wrong things ahead and making mistakes that a man would never make. That was exactly what she'd been warned about. That was exactly what she needed to avoid to get ahead.
She had a bright future ahead of her, no doubt about it. She'd already done as much in a year as anyone could have possibly asked for. The company was expanding, was building. They were putting more people to work, they were turning more profits, and they were bringing manufacturing back in America.
All of those things were what was important. The important things to remember.
The other stuff? Not that important, in the long run. She could learn to cope. It was just feelings, after all. She didn't need to listen to them, any more than she needed to feel anything else.
Men didn't worry about feelings. They didn't worry about what they were going to do about their precious whatevers. They made decisions based on logic and reason and feelings took a backseat when they had to.
