AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Whatever your intentions are, I think they’re backfiring,” Payton says, following me out of the common room.
No shit.
Thankfully, it’s only a few more steps before we arrive at Margret’s office. She spots me before we pass through the open doorway and stands to make her way to us, attention fixed on the thorn in my side, aka Payton.
At seventy-eight, Margret could be a resident here, and she is, but she also refuses to stop working. She’s a triple threat. Sharp as a tack. Well-experienced. Well-liked. I put Cresthill in her care as soon as it opened a few years ago and haven’t regretted it once.
“Trent,” she greets, sizing up Payton. “Is this Ms. Hart?”
Payton reaches out a hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”
As they shake hands, I send Margret a meaningful stare behind Payton’s head, reminding her not to tell Payton I own this place. Margret rolls her eyes.
She releases Payton’s hand. “Trent told me all about you.”
“He did?” Payton asks skeptically.
“Only good things.”
“Seriously?”
“Of course. He mentioned you need volunteer hours to pad your résumé once you graduate.”
I said no such thing, but leave it to Margret to take it upon herself to create a cover story that makes things comfortable for everyone around here. Like I said. Sharp as a tack.
“I’ll be sure to write you a nice letter of rec, should you need one,” Margret promises.
Payton is taken aback. Frankly, so am I. This is not supposed to twist in her favor. Cresthill needs the help. I need Payton in an environment I can control. One where I can spoon-feed what she learns about me and how much she sees. It’s as simple as that.
“Thank you,” Payton says, and it’s the most genuine I’ve ever seen her.
“No problem. Anything for Trent.” Margret nods in my direction. “He’s my favorite volunteer here, even if I think he’s just doing it for the good PR,” she jokes, returning to the cover story we agreed upon. The one she promised to have the rest of the staff on board with. Since the residents don’t know I own the place, it works.
The last thing I need is for Payton to find out I have a heart.
“Margret,” I greet, reminding her I exist. Not a position I’m often in. “Back to Ms. Hart. The one I told you all about on the phone.”
I throw in the “all” for good measure.
Let Payton wonder what that means.
“As I said before, it’s very nice to meet you. I’m Margret. As Trent, I’m sure, has told you, I run Cresthill House. Follow me, and I’ll show you where you will be today.” Margret turns to me. “Trent?”
“Yes?”
“You wait here. I have something I want to discuss with you.”
The look she gives me tells me not to argue, which normally I would find comical considering our roles in this place. It occurs to me how often the women in my life order me around, from Payton to Mom to Margret.
Cyrus, the asshole, is right.
Women are my soft spot, and I need to harden it the fuck up where Payton Hart is concerned.
“No problem,” I respond, walking farther into the room and taking a seat.
I fish out my phone after they leave and check my email to kill time.
Who knows how long I’ll be here waiting. Could be five minutes. Could be an hour. You never know with Margret. She’s a hard-core talker. Knowing her, she’s probably shooting twenty million invasive questions at Payton faster than she can process them.
