Page 37 of Trip Me Up

“It’s fine,” I muttered. Her presence gave me courage—and hope. Would he finally give me the approval I craved? I straightened my spine and wheeled the suitcases next to the ficus, then lowered myself to the stiff sofa. Sam unzipped Bilbo’s carrier and sat on the other end, settling the dog on her lap.

“How’s your mom?” My father arranged his lanky frame in one of the wing chairs opposite the sofa.

“She’s fine.” She was probably sitting down to a simple supper with Grandpa, her hands rough and chapped from hard work and her dark hair, threaded with gray, curling on her shoulders. My father’s shoulder-length, sun-kissed auburn mane was pulled back into a bun. Were those highlights? I curled a fist onto my knee.

“What can I do for you, Paul?”

“Do for me? I’m just here to see my son.” He wagged a finger at me. “If you’d texted me your tour schedule, I wouldn’t have had to chase down your publicist.”

My shoulders lowered. He’d come to see me. I’d finally done something right.

“I don’t text.” I flattened my hand and rubbed it on my thigh.

He smiled, tight. “I saw the news about the show starting filming. Congratulations. Do you think you’ll be spending more time in L.A. now?”

I blinked. Did he actually want to meet more often? “Not really. I’m not involved with the show, other than consulting, which I can do by phone.”

“No producer role?” His gaze was sharp.

“No.” I held back a shudder. Living in L.A., working on the show, I’d never finish my book.Why was he asking about the series? We couldn’t do a product placement of his phones on a fantasy show.

“You should negotiate for that next time. Just a little free advice from your dad.” He chuckled.

I narrowed my eyes at him. What was his angle?

“Samantha.” He twisted to face her. “Any Hollywood plans in the works for you?”

Her cheeks pinked. “No. The movie people said the effects would be too expensive. So it’s just the book.”

“Ah. Then you’ll go home to San Francisco?”

“That’s right.” She eased back against the sofa. But the line between her eyebrows, the one that hadn’t been there when I’d met her in San Francisco but had furrowed her forehead since Columbus, remained.

“So you’ll be rejoining the family business.”

She clutched the dog to her chest. “N-not really. I’m graduating this spring and planning on pursuing a career in research.”

Research? Why wouldn’t she write more books?

“But once a Jones, always a Jones, eh?” My father leaned forward.

She curled up like a hedgehog, and her words squeaked out. “I guess?”

Watching Sam’s confidence collapse had turned my pride and excitement at seeing my father into simmering irritation. I tugged at the collar of my flannel shirt.

“Listen,” he said, “I’ve been trying to get a meeting with your brother Jackson for a month. We’ve developed a handheld device to use in factories, and bundled with Synergy’s software, it’d be a homerun pitch to auto manufacturers. You can call him, have his people connect with mine.”

My eyes widened.Thiswas why he’d chased me—us—to Nashville? To ask Sam to pitch her brother on a business deal?

I rocketed to my feet. “No.”

“What?” My father leaned back and spread his palms. “It’s a win-win. Jackson gets a new way to sell his software, I move more units. I’ll even give Samantha a cut of the action. A finder’s fee, we’ll call it.”

Did Sam want a finder’s fee? Her wardrobe of faded pants and T-shirts on the tour was more starving artist than tech heiress. I’d assumed she was trying to blend in. But what if something had happened to her money? I’d certainly never seen a penny of my father’s fortune. Not that I’d wanted it. All I’d craved was his notice.

Sam stood, clutching her dog to her chest. “No, thank you, Mr. Swift. I don’t want to get in the middle. Jackson runs his business the way he wants it.” She bestowed a tense smile on him. “Have a good evening.” She shouldered her bags and reached for her suitcase.

“Wait, Sam. I’m coming with you.” I turned to my father, who’d stood. He was tall, but I was taller. I pushed aside the little boy who’d sought his father’s elusive approval. “I’m used to your treating me like shit. But don’t ever try to leverage me to get to my friends again. Understand me?”

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