Page 97 of Home to the Hollow

Of course, given today’s standards, I could probably still make a run for the Supreme Court, even with the keggers and trail of bimbos.

“I’m glad you asked, Pam. I’m doing a project for the PR department in town. We have an understanding, so to speak, so he recruited me to help research at my alma mater.” The brilliant grin I give only encourages her creepy focus on me, and I feel my balls shrivel up.

It’s official—Edgar Olivier Boone III is completely off the market, and it’s all because of one annoying brat and her little dog. Younger me would stab me with a switchblade in shame.

“Ooooh! Very secretive and SO civic minded. Your daddy will be so proud. Of course I can help you, sweetie,” Pamela coos.

Must. Not. Let. Her. Keep. Saying. Daddy.

Before she can ruin my sex life for a week, I shake my head. “No, he’s not involved. Very busy going back and forth between here and D.C. This is strictly on a local level. I’d be much obliged if you could tiptoe your fingers through some files and make me copies of alumnae from the Hollow. A list of names of students and maybe some staff files?”

Her expression changes, and she looks unsure. “Those files would be confidential, Eddie. I’m not sure?—”

“I’m sure I could swing back after I’ve talked to my colleague and maybe find time for a drink? When do they let you off the chain?” I smirk, feeling like an ass internally, but knowing my reputation precedes me.

Pamela’s demeanor flips right back at my words, and she tilts her head. “Well, in that case, how could a girl say no?”

I don’t have the slightest notion of coming back here after I find the guys and Tilly, but this twit doesn’t know that. I simply turn the charm up, crossing over to the chairs across from her desk and sit down. “That would be right neighborly of you, Pam. I’ll wait here while you put that together and think about where we should go.”

She giggles again, but finally sits back down at her desk, tapping away at the keyboard with her long acrylics. I pull my phone out, hoping the others are also having success.

Bully Asshole:I feel dirty AF, but I’ve got my part handled. Check in.

Doctor Asshole:The med school didn’t turn up much, but I picked up some more info on the drug sample. The new guy here has seen it before. He transferred from Hopkins and he’s kind of a trip.

Sugarplum:Wolfie, you’ve been on everyone's phone again!

Cute Asshole:I plead the Fifth. Also, the dorms are pretty dead. The few RAs and students have little to offer except the occasional bad pickup line.

Bully Asshole:*snarl*

Irish Asshole:If that wasn’t the most adorable thing I’ve seen—I could sodding puke.

Sugarplum:Play nice, boys. I’m working my way through the tenured staff in my parents’ department. No joy yet.

Doctor Asshole:Magpie, you’re turning him into a brat. The icons on this chat alone…

Bully Asshole:Well, it’s downright flattering now that you mention it, Doc. Maybe this Sex and the City wannabe here would like to see.

Sugarplum:That’s not funny. Stop wasting time texting and get this shit done.

Uh-oh.

Tilly might fight me for control and make herself an alpha brat, but that tone is not good. She’s not playing. What the hell did I do? I switch over to the guys’ chat, frowning at the screen as I tap a new message.

BigDog:Anyone know what just happened?

Pup:You stepped in shit, that’s what.

BigBird:That was sincere, Boone. She’s pissed.

Jackass:Methinks someone hit a nerve. Didn’t you notice she’s been off since we left the house?

BigDog:She was awfully quiet on the road.

Pup:There’s something about this place bothering her and whatever it is, you triggered it.

BigBird:We should just ask her.

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