Touching him and not enjoying it, so I stopped. “Keeping you from making a mistake.”
He brushed his hands over his arms. Right where I’d touched him, as if I’d given him girl germs.
This guy.
“I don’t get it, Brock. All the directors are cultivating clients and making deals without your interference. They’re on calls, out to lunch, visiting sites.” I had listened just enough in work meetings to know those things happened. “For some reason I don’t get the same respect.”
“You haven’t earned it.”
“I’m trying to.” Not really, but still. This conversation called for an indignant response. I aimed for fake indignation. I could pull that off. “You are the problem here. Micah gave me a deadline. I’m still inside of it.”
Barely, but I had a few days.
“The difference between the other directors and you is simple.” Brock crossed his arms in front of him. “I don’t trust you.”
Wise. That Yale education really did come in handy. “You’ve made that clear from my first day in the office.”
His mood shifted. The abrasive guy with his own agenda—gone. A choking whiff of smugness filled the air. “You’re not going to like the way this ends, Kasey.”
Okay...
He continued. “Remember when this implodes that I tried to help you and keep this from becoming an embarrassing disaster. You’ve been warned.”
The chilling words haunted me as I opened the door and stepped back inside. Celia and Gram stood there with dire expressions reminiscent of mourners at a funeral.
“Uh, hi.” Because, really, what else could I say?
Did they hear Brock? See him? All the unexpected visitors made me want to install a better alarm system and locking gate to the driveway.
“Kasey Adelaide Nottingham.”
Oh, damn.Gram pulled out my middle name. She didn’t weaponize it often but when she did it was a clear sign of terrible things to come.
“Kasey.” Celia going with the usual name she called me wasonly a little less terrifying. “Is there something you need to tell us?”
So many things. “Like?”
Gram sighed. “Do not make me use your full name again, young lady. Start talking.”
Shit.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Brock and his booming voice caused this. He’d stomped around, demanding attention, and he got it. Now I had to deal with the fallout.
Gram and Celia possessed a unique ability to ferret out egomaniacs then avoid them. Their rabid dislike for men who yelled or used their size to intimidate often ended with a side comment from Gram like,Itwouldn’t be a loss if someone ran over that man with a car.
That sort of thing used to sound like a joke. Now? Not so sure.
Four minutes into this awkward assembly and the ladies hadn’t moved. They formed a perfumed wall of stubbornness in the middle of the entrance hall. Their angry little faces made one thing clear: my dodging and weaving days were over. These two would not take a step until they had answers. If that meant we stayed there, rooted in the spot, as summer came and went, so be it.
“I can explain.” I could and should have days ago. Now I didn’t have a choice.
“That would be a nice change,” Gram grumbled.
She wore the same stony expression she used whenever anyone at a group meal in a restaurant took out a calculator instead of just evenly splitting the check. She found that sort of thing “unseemly”—her word, not mine.
Celia, always the peacemaker, put a loving hand on Gram’s arm. “Let’s give Kasey a minute to sort out whatever she needs to sort out in her head.”