Page 18 of Driven Daddy

I sure hoped she did. I was putting myself in the care of a second person today. “I can’t wait.”

FOUR

“Son of a bitch!”I slammed on my brakes —again—at the brand new light that had been added to Main Street.

Crescent Cove was getting busier and busier these days. Enough that Main Street and Barrow Avenue needed some organization. Then again, Barrow Avenue was the main road out to the suburbs from town.

Which was where I was headed like a chump. But my mom would have my ass if I didn’t get home with her goods for dinner.

And of course, I’d seen my mystery girl when I couldn’t go chat her up. There had been cars on either side of me, and I’d almost slammed into that stupid truck that would have eaten my car for dinner—pancake-style.

“Focus, idiot.”

I had been out of sorts since I’d gotten off the phone with Larsen. The numbers we had gone over had been one dollar away from obscene. Hell, more like ten-thousand dollars away from obscene.

For Pete’s sake, I would have to start shuffling money around again to get the second printing done for Ryan Moon’s book. She had already sold out beyond the preorder numbers I’d forecasted.

Amazing for her—and Duality Press.

Not so awesome to have to fund a second printing before we got the money for the first. First-world problems for any other publishing house, but I was still small, dammit.

Even if I wanted to fork over some of my capital to snag a bigger printer, there were other books in the queue before me. But I did not want to kill Ryan’s momentum.

Not to mention my own for “Knights of Chaos”, which was currently at our printer.

Who was holding it hostage for more money.

They did not fucking care if I had a contract, not to mention a preorder for my novel.

“Fuck.” I slapped my palm against my steering wheel again before taking care with the left-hand turn onto Barrows.

I did not need to be worrying about a mystery woman right now. I had to worry about keeping Duality Press alive.

My phone buzzed in my cup holder, a text coming over my dash screen. At least he didn’t call.

“Larsen says, I’ll have more names for you at dinner. Don’t sweat it too hard, boss.”

“Sure, I won’t.” I answered Siri.

“Would you like to reply?”

I blew out a breath. “No.”

The in-dash went back to my music. Jeff Buckley’s guitars filled the car speakers.

I tried to empty my brain, but my brain never allowed me to let a puzzle go. Especially when it was attached to my livelihood. I’d known full well there would be growing pains when I added artists to my roster.

While I’d originally been upset that Nolan Devereaux had been forced to bow out because of his accident and recovery, I was now sort of glad he had. He was one less person to deal with.We agreed to regroup next year after he got the hang of marriage and his kid.

And the ghost that kept things very interesting over at his mansion.

The ghost…

My brain clicked over from Duality Press mode to what made me want to do this in the first place. My art. The art that had been stubbornly repressed with all the moving parts of the specifics of the business.

Could I use a ghost from my character’s past?

From before he was the knight?

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