Page 85 of A Little Too Late
I know exactly where she’s going with this, because Iamreally good at what I do. “You think I should scuttle the deal.”
“It had occurred to me,” she says quietly. “You could leak—”
“—the Sharpes’ plans. I know I could. If I sent that photo to everyone on the town council, there would be an uproar. Block would look like an asshole. And my dad’s buyout price could drop.”
“Exactly,” Sheila says.
God, it’s tempting. The Sharpes might get cold feet. Or at least slow their roll.
I sit with that a minute, until a honk behind me lets me know that the light is green. Reluctantly, I move back into the traffic. “Look, Sheila. I know it’s an appealing idea. But don’t scuttle the deal. I mean it. Don’t tell the lifties or the evil bartender, even though it’s tempting.”
“You spoil all my fun. This place is so beautiful, Reed. I don’t want to see anything bad happen to it.”
“I know. Me neither. But that’s not the solution.” I’m angry at my father, but I’m not going to undermine him. “The blame could fall on Ava, and I don’t want that for her. She deserves her promotion.”
“Grrr. I hate it when you’re right. Do you miss her?”
My answer is immediate. “Like I miss oxygen when I’m underwater.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah.”
“Bye, Reed. I have to drink a ginger martini now.”
“Bye.”
CHAPTER 30
A FIFTEEN-MINUTE HEAD START
AVA
“Was that Reed?” I hear myself ask as Sheila returns to her barstool after her call.
I still can’t believe he got on that plane. I shouldn’t be shocked. It’s exactly what he said he’d do, and I’m heartbroken anyway.
“Yep. That was him. He misses you.”
I make a face that betrays my thoughts about that. “Then where is he? Does he sound as brokenhearted as I feel?”
“He sounds…” Sheila’s face grows thoughtful. “Fine, I suppose. But Reed is always fine. He’s really good at faking it. That’s why he’s such a good negotiator in the board room. All that ice in his veins comes in handy.”
About a hundred emotions swim through me. Sadness. Anger. Love. I miss him so desperately. The Reed I know isn’t icy at all.
Then again, that guy boarded a flight to California. He’s gone. Possibly forever.
“If the Sharpes buy this place, he’ll never come back,” I say slowly. “Did you know his mother is buried on the property?”
Sheila shakes her head. “That’s rough.”
“It is,” I agree. “But I wanted him to fight harder.” It’s hard to say that out loud. Because I wanted him to fight harder forme,as well as the resort.
“I would fight if I were him,” Sheila declares. “I’m ready to take up a pitchfork right now.”
“You deserve that raise,” I insist. “Drinks are on me tonight.”
She grins, lifts her martini glass to mine, and we toast.
