Page 54 of Holiday Hire

For once, I'm happy my sister is in the same room as Phoebe and me. She doesn't like Lance any more than I do. It's clear as day.

Lance clears his throat. "No, not yet. I wanted to give Phoebe some time to live a little while we're young. Isn't that right, babe?" He slings his arm around her, tugging her closer.

She doesn't say anything, gaping at her plate, and takes deep breaths.

I glower, seething, "You wanted to give her or yourself time to live a little?"

Lance answers, "Her," then grinds his molars, meeting my stare.

"Looks to me like she doesn't want to marry you."

Lance crosses his arms. He snarls, "That's a strange thing for a man to say who has nothing to do with our relationship. Or do you?"

My stomach flips. It's my own fault for speaking up. There's nothing going on between Phoebe and me, but I can't blame a man for asking me when I'm butting into their business. Still, I step further into hot water, fuming, "Meaning?"

He tries to intimidate me again with a glare, then takes a sip of coffee and nonchalantly shrugs. "Just asking. You seem to be fond of her for a guy who's going to fire her."

"I'm not firing her," I repeat before I think about the consequences.

"Woo-hoo! Yes," Wilder says, pumping his arm in the air.

"Beach party here we come," Isabella cries out.

"Good. Phoebe's way better at homework than Grandma or Dad. No offense, Grandma," Ace declares.

A smile forms on Phoebe's face. Then she pins her blues on me and quietly questions, "You're not firing me tomorrow?"

Now I'm between a rock and a hard place. My mouth turns dry. A few minutes ago, I couldn't think of one reason not to keep Phoebe. Now, all I can think about is how I need to prove to my family that I can handle the boys on my own.

"Of course he's not firing you. He'd be a fool to let you leave. Well, sometimes he's a moron, but he's not that big of an idiot," Willow teases.

I glance over at her, my pulse skyrocketing, once again wishing she knew how to mind her own business.

Phoebe clears her throat, then asks, "Alexander? Are you letting me stay?"

Lance grunts, then insists, "He already said he's firing you, so he's firing you. After we eat this delicious breakfast, we're getting on a plane and going home."

Dad speaks up. This time, he's not on Lance's side. "Now, hold on a minute, young man. Phoebe took a job with our family, andI'm pretty sure she can make her own decisions. And my son clearly stated he's not firing her."

Lance glances over at Dad. "Why should she stay in an environment where she's constantly being threatened to lose her job?"

"She's not," I claim.

He arches his eyebrows. "That's an interesting statement. She told me on the phone the other day, and again last night, she was getting fired on Monday."

"Stop saying that! You didn't listen to what I said. I told you I was on a trial run and Monday would be the deciding day," Phoebe corrects.

"Sounds like threats to me," Lance adds.

"My son doesn't threaten women," Dad declares.

Lance sits back in his seat and sighs. "Sir, I'm not trying to get on your bad side. I'm only trying to protect my woman."

His woman.

It's another statement that makes me want to hurl. He doesn't deserve Phoebe. I've only known him a few hours, and it's clear he doesn't deserve one ounce of her time or attention.

I meet Phoebe's eyes. "I think she can make up her own mind and decide if she wants to stay or go. Can't you?"

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