Page 8 of Bad for Business
But now, I want to know everything about him. Only because it’s necessary for my job.
If I didn’t think he was really stupid to talk to that reporter like that, I might actually feel bad for the situation that he’s in. From what I could find online, he seems like a good guy despite the personal problems that I have with him. I’ve pored over every article I could find, and it seems that over the years, his biggest problem is that he hasn’t grown up. It’s obvious he likes to party and is always having fun. The problem is, now that he’s thirty and preparing to take over the family business, he can’t get away with what he used to.
Ryker clears his throat, reminding me that we’d been having a conversation and that I spaced out. “I figured small talk might be necessary if we’re going to be spending an entire summer together,” he offers, keeping his voice cool and unbothered even after I told him I didn’t want to talk to him.
I sigh, looking down at my nails as I think of a response. “If I have my way, it’s not going to take the entire summer to get your act together.” I look up at him once again, wanting to get a read on his reaction.
He mulls over my words for a moment, and I find myself wishing I could get inside his head. He’s made it obvious he isn’t thrilled about the thought of needing a babysitter for the summer, but I want to knowexactlyhow he feels about it.
I want to know how he feels about me being the one he’s stuck with.
He sighs, his fingertips drumming against his thigh as he continues to gather his thoughts. “I’m thinking it’ll only be a week or two before my dad gives this whole thing up,” he begins, his tone confident. “No matter how much the board wants tocomplain about it, I’m the only heir to Davenport Media. And sure, I guess if the board really worked at it, they could put someone else in my spot, but they’re not going to do that. A Davenport has to be the one at the helm of the company and I’m going to prove to them that I’m ready to take it on.”
My phone vibrates, giving me an opportunity to pull my gaze from his and look down at the notification. It’s an email from my dad, giving me instructions for the trip as if I actually need them.
“I don’t know your dad well,” I start, letting out a resounding sigh as I read over the email one more time before deciding to ignore it, “but the vibe I got from him last night does not make it seem like he’s going to give in that easily.”
Ryker laughs. It’s deep and throaty, and I remember the first time I heard it.
If I get you to smile, will you let me buy you a drink?
Unwelcome memories from that night hit me and I try my best to forget the feel of his body on top of mine. The vibration of his laugh against my skin.
Ryker runs his hands along the tops of his thighs, leaving his palms pressed against his knees as he lets out a deep, long sigh. “Yeah, Dad’s definitely not as easily convinced as I thought he’d be,” he admits with a shrug. “I spent over an hour last night trying to tell him that none of this was necessary.”
I fold my arms across my chest, pinning my stare on him. “How’d that go for you?”
He gives me that grin I’m beginning to loathe. “Well, I’m here still, aren’t I?”
SIX
RYKER
“I can get them,”Camille demands, bumping her hip against mine to edge me away.
“So can I,” I respond, not letting her attempts to move me out of the way work. We just made it to the Hamptons house. Instead of using a driver, I’d opted to have Dad leave a car for me at the private airport. Turns out, having an SUV for both of us was necessary because of the amount of luggage Camille brought.
“This one’s heavy and stuck. Let me help you,” I tell her, pointing to her largest suitcase that we’d wedged on top of the others. I’m attempting to thaw her icy demeanor by grabbing her bags for her, but it seems like trying to help is only making her more upset.
“They’remybags, not yours,” she hisses, tugging on the handle of the suitcase. It doesn’t move despite how hard she appears to pull.
I shake my head. There was a slight moment on the plane ride here where I thought spending time with her might not be so bad. For a few seconds, I remembered the woman I met at that party. The one who opened up to me and briefly let me in. I thought I saw a glimpse of her on the plane, but I was wrong.
The one glaring at me right now clearly doesn’t like me for reasons I’m not confident about. And because of her obvious dislike of me, I don’t know how much I likeherright now.
My hand brushes against hers as I grab the same suitcase handle as her. I’m not even trying to help her at this point. I’m just trying to get this one suitcase out so we can get the rest out as well. “Let me at least get this one,” I get out through a clenched jaw as I pull on it.
“No,” Camille argues, elbowing me in the side.
I let out an annoyed sigh and throw my hands in the air. I don’t know why I’m even trying to help. She’s been pushing my buttons from the moment we landed. She spent the entire car ride here trying to give me directions on where to go, no matter how many times I reminded her that this wasmyfamily’s home and I didn’t need any help to find it.
“Just so I can prepare myself, are you always this stubborn?” I ask, watching closely as she plants her feet on the driveway and places a second hand around the suitcase handle.
Camille side-eyes me. “I’m not stubborn. I just don’t need your help.”
I laugh. She’s turning out to be the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met, but I keep that thought to myself, not wanting to ruffle her feathers any more than I already have just by existing. “Okay, fine, you’re not stubborn,” I lie. “Once we spend a little more time together, will you let me help you, or will you still tell me no?”
Camille pulls her gaze from mine and focuses on the suitcase once again. “Oh, sonowyou want to spend more time together?” she mumbles under her breath. It’s said so quietly and rushed I almost miss it.
