Page 22 of Old Money

“Oh, Jesus,” I say, “thanks for bringing it back.”

Not only did I leave it in his car, but I wouldn’t have even realized it until Tyler showed up.

He must sense me looking past him, because he smiles faintly.

“Boss has lots of meetings today, but he wanted me to tell you to give me a ring if you need anything.”

I screw my face up.

“I’m fine, but thank you, Tyler. And if I don’t see you before, have a great Thanksgiving,” I tell him. He nods as I turn on my heel and walk into the store.

I put my stuff on the shelf under the counter, clip my name tag on, and log into the register computer.

The normal coffee grabbers will be in within the next few minutes, but I have some time to stew. Not only did he send Tyler to deliver my purse for me—which, I guess, I should be much more appreciative of—but then he also sent a message. One that felt like, “Hey, don’t bug me. Use my hired help instead.”

Ick.

I know one thing is for certain: having my sexual advances rejected and then getting pushed off on his errand boy within a twenty-four-hour timespan doesn’t feel awesome.

Maybe he really does want me; maybe that was bullshit. But either way, he’s not getting shit. I work my shift, close up shop, and go home, and the only person I’ve texted all day is my mom. As I’m walking back down the street, I dial her.

“Hi, baby,” she says. “How was your shift?”

“It was fine,” I say. “It’s freezing now, though.”

“It sure is. It’s cold here too. How’s the new place? I still can’t believe he did that. I just can’t believe it. I texted him to?—”

“You texted him?” I ask, cutting her off.

“Yes, is that a problem? He gave my child a home. I thought it might be rude for me not to at least thank him.”

God dammit.

“He gave me his number before I flew back home. An incredible man, honestly. I know what people think about his family, and maybe it’s true, but him…wow.”

“He gave you his number?” I ask.

“Yes. He told me to feel free to check in, or if I ever had any problems getting a hold of you, or anything, to call him. He wanted me to know that someone was there for you on that side of the country.”

Stupid dick.

Stupid, sweet, compassionate dick.

“Is there a problem, Sawyer?” she asks. “Did something happen? I’ll cut him. What happened?”

I almost laugh at how quick she flips her switch when it involves me.

“No, Mom,” I say. “Nothing happened. I just didn’t know, that’s all.”

“Ah, okay,” she says. “Are you back to your apartment?”

“Walking up the steps right now,” I say, plugging the code into the front door.

“Good,” she says. “I still can’t believe it. I can’t wait to see it. I’m sad we won’t be together for Thanksgiving.”

“I know, Ma,” I say, holding the phone between my ear and my shoulder to unlock my door. “Me too. But I need to get a few more shifts in before the holidays. And I don’t want Jake to think I’m not coming back and fire me. I need this job.”

She sighs on the other end.

---