Page 17 of Phillip

“I do.” Mary Beth laid her hand on Ashley’s arm as she strangled the purse. “Go take a shower. Dab on a little perfume.”

“Mary Beth!” Her thoughts scattered. “This is a work meeting.”

Her best friend’s lips twitched as though she had so much to say but didn’t know where to start. Finally, she shook her head, adding, “No perfume, but you still need to shower. Ignore what I said and get to work.”

“Right. Yeah.” Ashley drew in a tight breath but was able to relax. Visiting the Blackthorne estate would be cool. Seeing Phillip would be a nonevent. She had to believe that about the man she wanted to hate but maybe, obviously, didn’t.

CHAPTER NINE

Brock and Uncle Graham walked into the other side of the large living room. Their hushed conversation faded when they must’ve seen Phillip staring out the window. He didn’t bother to say hello to his uncle. A lecture loomed, and Phillip would put it off as long as possible. Having his brother tear into him today had already been enough. Little did either of them know that the problem they were likely whispering about was about to show up at their home.

Phillip’s invitation for Ashley to meet him at the family estate weighed heavily.

Or maybe it had left him even more confused than he’d been earlier. It wasn’t every day they invited those outside the family’s close network of friends for a social visit, as was evident by Aunt Claire’s birthday party. She’d wanted a friends-only guest list, but true to the family’s nature, business associates and their attempt at a social-only gathering had failed dramatically. Then again, Ashley’s visit wasn’t social. They had business to address.

Phillip needed to focus on Ashley as a business associate. Though the more he tried, the more he failed. Somehow Ashley had cemented herself into his thoughts. He couldn’t close his eyes without replaying their time together—and that was an unfair reason to have called her over for a working meeting. Fair or not, he had to get her alone and figure out why she preoccupied his thoughts.

He needed a shower before she arrived, preferably a cold shower.

“Phillip, give me a minute.” Graham crossed the living room.

“I was headed for a shower.”

His uncle shook his head and eased onto the chair to the right of the couch. “I passed housekeeping a few minutes ago, bathroom cleaning tubs in hand.”

His escape plan was foiled. Phillip hid a groan and took a seat to face his uncle, noting that Brock had quietly slipped away. “Guess I’ll shower in a bit.”

Graham ran his hand slowly through the graying salt-and-pepper hair as though searching for where to begin.

“About today,” Phillip jumped in first. “It was a mistake but—”

His uncle dropped his hand, letting go of an exhausted sigh. “That was more than a mistake.”

Phillip bit back explanations of failed brakes and wouldn’t explain why he’d turned the morning into a golf cart joyride. Bringing up Aunt Claire had been the catalyst for the disaster earlier and wouldn’t make this conversation go better.

“Public perception has been at an all-time high lately,” Uncle Graham said. “We’re up to our eyeballs in negotiations for a merger. Jason is dominating Hollywood. Ross walked away from racing. The Blackthorne name has been on the tip of the nation’s tongue.”

Of course his uncle didn’t mention Aunt Claire leaving. Phillip was certain that interested more people than business deals. “I’m aware.”

“More often than not, the coverage is positive.”

Except…Phillip waited for the inevitable condemnation.

“Except when you pull stunts like today,” Uncle Graham said. “You have to think.”

“I was thinking.”

“Then you have to think like a Blackthorne.”

If thinking like a Blackthorne meant only thinking about business, then he would never be able to meet his uncle’s expectations.Big surprise.He hadn’t met his father’s either. He’d often wondered what Dad would have thought about the nonprofit and camp he’d created. Would either his dad or uncle be more receptive to it if Phillip had called it Camp Blackthorne instead of Camp Sunshine? Phillip gritted his teeth. “I’ll work on that.”

Uncle Graham leaned back as though their conversation had drained his energy. He pulled in a long breath and let it out as his gaze roamed the living room. Normally, Aunt Claire would be bustling throughout the house. Her lively cheer was infectious, and she turned what could be a designer’s dream showcase of a house into a loving home.

Phillip missed his aunt. He didn’t care for how empty and cavernous the estate felt without her presence. The look on his uncle’s face said he felt that too. Phillip might’ve said that always thinking like a Blackthorne could be awfully lonely if he thought it would do any good with his stubborn uncle.

“Have a good day.” Uncle Graham stood. “I’ll be reviewing files in my office if anyone needs me.”

The quiet surrounded Phillip again, but he couldn’t sit still. He paced the windows that framed the bright living room. In any direction, he should’ve been able to find the kind of calm that only the ocean could offer. But the rolling waves failed to slow his increasing pulse. Being a Blackthorne wasn’t a job. Perfection wasn’t possible—and if he hadn’t screwed up today, he wouldn’t have run into Ashley—literally.

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