Page 11 of Breaking News

“Graham, come on. You can’t be more than a couple years older than Xander. What are you, thirty-six? Thirty-seven?”

“Try forty.”

“Shut up.”

“Do you want to see my ID?”

She shook her head, crossing her arms against her chest. With her head turned toward me, she rested it against the headrest, studying me. “You don’t look forty.”

Was she blind? “You’ve seen these gray hairs, right?”

“People can go gray in their thirties! And it’s not like you have a full head of gray. The few gray hairs you have make you look… distinguished.”

I gripped the steering wheel, letting her words linger for a moment.Distinguished. It felt like a compliment—one I had todeflect with a self-effacing joke. “You know, people only ever use that word to describe old guys, so you’re not helping your case.”

“And guests.”

“What?”

Stretching her arms out in a melodramatic manner, she used her news anchor voice to bellow, “‘Ladies, gentlemen, and distinguished guests.’” And there came that cute chuckle of hers. “See? Not just old guys.”

“Joke’s on you, I’ve never been a distinguished guest anywhere.”

“Not even as a CEO? You can’t tell me that doesn’t garner at least a little extra respect.”

I let out a short laugh, shaking my head. “Having that title doesn’t automatically mean I’m respected, especially after what the last guy in this role pulled.” I thought of Silas Brown’s unflattering mugshot after the embezzlement charge, and that gave me a small sense of satisfaction.

Even if the guy was probably going to evade prison time, at least he was in handcuffs. Once.

“Well,” Jill said, raking her fingers through her hair, which only fell across her eyes again the second she pulled her hand away. “I’ll make sure you’re honored as a distinguished guest at the Gardners’ next Friday night.”

“Oh yeah?” I asked with a grin, keeping my eyes on the road. I could feel her eyes on me.

“Especially if you take some of Xander’s money in poker. He’s been getting a little too cocky about his winnings.”

My smile grew. I could certainly knock Xander down a couple notches, if it were necessary. “I make no guarantees,” I said, stealing another quick glance at Jill’s thighs.

God, get yourself together, Harlowe.

I felt Jill’s gaze on me again, like she might have caught me ogling her legs. I cleared my throat, preparing to make a jokeabout how Xander could take her out for a nice dinner after taking my money next weekend, when my phone rang. Olivia’s name flashed on the screen.

It was 10:30. My heart leapt to my throat.

I accepted the call on the dash and cut right to the chase. “Olivia? What’s wrong?”

“Dad,” she sobbed, and dread took over every cell of my body. I imagined all the worst possible scenarios—her bleeding out in a ditch, making a final call to say goodbye, or sitting inside the police station with that idiot of a boyfriend. “Can you pick me up?”

“W-what’s wrong? What happened?”

“I just need you to pick me up,” she said between sniffles, and I picked up my phone so she could have some privacy. She was crying hard when I pressed the phone to my ear. “Please?”

“Of course I can. Olivia, are you okay?”

“Nothing’s wrong with me,” she said, and my fears began to subside. Still, my baby girl was crying and begging to leave whatever situation she was in. I wasn’t all that convinced she was actually okay. “I just need you to come get me.”

“From where?”

Olivia rattled off an address, which I repeated out loud. “729 Columbus Street. Got it.” As I spoke the words, Jill scrambled for her phone, opening up Google Maps. It was a good thing, too, because I was so frazzled I knew I wouldn’t be able to remember. “I’m coming for you right now, okay?”

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