Page 38 of Swiped By My Dad's Best Friend
“Okay, fuck off.”
The guys laughed as I gave the room the finger, turning in a slow circle so they all saw my middle finger extended.
“Can we get down to business?”
“Sounded like you already got down to business,” Aaron joked. Fucking punk. He was still trying too hard to impress the other guys, so of course he went for the easy laugh.
I stared him down until he cleared his throat and shifted nervously.
“Sorry, go ahead, Coop.”
I opened the folder and fanned out the spreadsheets I’d printed that reflected our philanthropic budget, projects, and expenses, along with a big pile of invoices. “This is everything I’ve got on our last two projects,” I said. “It’s all jumbled up because I’m disorganized.”
“So, what does this do for us?” Kev asked, stepping forward to pick up a spreadsheet, forehead creasing as he scanned it.
“Not much yet. It’s the bare bones of what we need to create the proposal required for the Battle of the Greeks contest.”
Linc stepped up to the table, looking through what was available. “I can use some of this for the grant application we’re supposed to do,” he said. “But I’m going to need more. I did some reading, and the grant app is going to require the full scope of not just our current project, but its long-term potential and scope in the future.” He met my eyes, serious now. “No one knows that better than you. I can write it, but I’ll need your help with explaining our vision.”
I swallowed hard as everyone looked to me. It was a lot of pressure. I knew the guys wanted to win this thing—and Simon’s future might well rely on it.
Even without that, Iwantedto win, if only so that my program could continue to help the Geraldines out there, who were living in deteriorating houses in conditions that most of us couldn’t fully grasp. Besides the cash prize, the grant application we wrote could potentially set up House Pledge with future funding.
But when had I ever seen something through and achieved an actual fucking goal? As the guys—including Simon—gazed at me intently, waiting to hear my fuckingvision,I knew I was in over my head.
“Give me some time to think about it.”Or deep dive on the Internet in the desperate attempt to find the answers that still eluded me.
“No problem,” he said. “We can meet up when you’re ready. But we do need to get moving. That deadline isn’t getting any farther away.”
I grimaced, nodding, then moved on to the next step. Financials. “Kev, I need you on the numbers. Make sure everything adds up and put it in a more professional format.”
He frowned at me. “Will do. This is a mess though.”
“Welcome to my life, dude.”
He laughed. I didn’t. It was no longer funny.
People were counting on me, and I didn’t know if I could even count on myself. What if I disappointed them all? What if I disappointedTrace?
It was just all too much.
11
TRACE
“Cooper?”
“Hmm?” He blinked, eyes clearing. “Sorry. What were you saying?”
“I have a meeting with a potential client tomorrow night. I won’t be able to meet up.”
He nodded. “Yeah, okay.”
Was it vain that I’d hoped for more of a reaction than that? Probably. I didn’t want Cooper weeping tears over me, but it’d be nice if he expressed some small regret that we’d be missing one of our few meetups this week.
Still, something about his apathy pinged my Daddy senses. He’d been distracted since the moment he picked up the Skype call. We hadn’t engaged in sexting yet, and usually Cooper was eager to get going.
“Are you okay, brat?”
