Page 36 of She Likes It, Hey Micah
“I am genuinely impressed,” Micah tells me as she turns the volume down so the music is more of a background sound. She’s scrolling through my playlist to see what I generally listen to. “I pegged you as a classical music snob or something.”
“Clearly you didn’t see Vivaldi in my shuffle next to Rachmaninoff.”
“I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”
I fight my smile as I speed up to pass a semi on the highway. “I’m not joking, actually. Have you ever heard ‘The Four Seasons’? Total banger.”
She lets out a laugh that catches my breath in my lungs for a second. “Banger? I didn’t think you knew what that meant.”
I glance at her with exaggerated offense in my expression. “Just how old do you think I am?” Too old, but that’s getting harder to remember. Seven years isn’t completely crazy, and it isn’t like I would be cradle robbing. She’s been an adult for years. Sure, I was graduating with my MBA when she graduated high school, but…
I’m starting to feel creepy thinking about it.
“I’m thirty-two,” I tell her when she doesn’t answer my rhetorical question. I glance to see her reaction, but her smile hasn’t changed.
“I know. I had my PI brother look into you the other day because he needed something to do, and he told me.”
My grip slips on the steering wheel, making us swerve partially into the shoulder. “Sorry. Uh. What else did he tell you?”
I have no idea what her expression is now because I refuse to look at her. Does she know about what went down with my company? Does she know I’m pretty much blacklisted by any respectable business in New Mexico because of what Miranda did?
When Micah’s hand rests on my arm, I swerve again because I wasn’t expecting it. She lets go, though I wish she wouldn’t. “He really didn’t tell me much,” she says. “He’s annoying like that sometimes, but he only mentions things if he thinks they’re important to know.”
“Like my age?” And why wouldn’t he tell her about my business partner embezzling money from our investors? If I knew my brother was working with someone who got caught up in a scandal like that, I would absolutely warn him.
Ha! The irony of that…
“And he said you went to Columbia. That’s really impressive!”
I wish I wasn’t driving so I could really look at her and try to figure out if she’s hiding any other insider knowledge. Her brother must have figured out my real last name, but did he tell her that part? I feel like she would have brought it up if he had.
“Did you go to college?” I ask. It’s not one of the questions on my list, but it feels like a good segue. And a way to get away from being the topic of conversation.
“Nope.”
“What did you do before you started working for Lila?”
“A lot of things. I was trying to figure out what I really wanted to do, you know?”
Her hand is resting on her knee as she gazes out her window at the passing landscape. Red rocks and cacti have given way to green hills and pine trees, but we still have a long way to go. What would she do if I reached out and took her hand? It might make things incredibly awkward for the rest of the drive. Or she might welcome the connection. Is it worth risking the former for a chance at the latter?
“What did you study?” she asks, tucking both hands into her lap. Ruining my chance.
“Business.”
“Did you always want to do property investment?”
No. I wanted to change the world one life at a time, but Miranda decided her life was the only one worth changing for the better. She left me without much of a choice when it came to the work I could do. “I sort of fell into it, but it’s not a bad gig,” I say. “Especially with projects like Greenwood. Spring or fall?”
She smirks. “What about summer?”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“Fall.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Not spring?”
“Summer is my actual favorite season, but every August I go visit my mom’s grave, and that’s closer to fall than to spring.”
