Page 50 of My Book Boyfriend
Another reporter interviews a mom and her five-year-old, holding the marching carrots poster.
“Did you make that yourself?”
“Yes,” says the five-year-old. “Last year I grew four carrots.” She holds up her hand with all five fingers sticking up.
“Wow,” the reporter says.
“But my mom says that if the garden is destroyed, I won’t be able to grow carrots there.” Her eyes well up with tears. The reporter gestures vigorously to his cameraman to make sure he’s got the shot. “Please save the garden.”
Chapter fourteen
Rupert
“Mr.EvansSr.wantsto see you in his office immediately,” Gertrude says as she knocks on my door. “And this came for you. I didn’t realize it was personal, so I opened it.”
She hands me a copy ofA Devilish Dare. The bare-chested guy is hugging a very voluptuous woman and doesn’t seem to want to let go. Understandably.
Well played, Lily.
“Expanding your reading tastes?” Gertrude asks.
“Apparently.” I put the book in my desk drawer.
“Can you send down some coffee and tea and hot chocolate to the protestors and the press?” I say to Gertrude. “It’s cold out there. Oh, and tell them they can use the restrooms in the lobby. Alert security.”
My executive assistant raises her eyebrows but nods.
As I pass by Gertrude’s desk, the newspaper is open to the picture of Lily and me. No secrets here. At least my warning worked, and the photo doesn’t show Lily’s face.
I stride down the hallway to Grandpa’s office. I have no plan for dealing with the protestors outside. Or rather, my plan involves saving most of the garden, but that’s not what Grandpa will want to hear.
I walk into Grandpa’s office, and he stands up from behind his desk.
It’s not like we haven’t had protestors before. We usually let them do their thing and come to an agreement behind the scenes, if we can.
“Are you dating someone?” Grandpa waves aroundThe Intelligencer.
“Potentially,” I say cautiously. My dating life is not what I want to discuss with Grandpa. Not when I’m trying to persuade him that I’m completely committed to being co-CEO of Strive Developers.
“Potentially?What does that mean? You’ve got her hand in your pocket. That looks like dating to me. I know it’s different nowadays, but I wasn’t holding hands or putting anyone’s hand in my coat pocket if I didn’t have intentions.” Grandpa sits back down.
I sit in the chair in front of him. “I do have intentions.” Why do I feel like I’m back in the eighteenth century and Grandpa’s the irate father of the girl?
Grandpa looks at the picture. “It’s a good picture. But I wish I could see her face.”
“I toldPage Sixshe was a private person, so they probably didn’t dare risk printing an image of her face. I walked her home last night.”
“What kind of intentions?” Grandpa asks.
“I intend to date her.”
“Don’t you have a picture of her face? You young people take selfies all the time.”
“I’m not that young,” I say. “Did you have anything else you wanted to see me about?”
“So, you’re notactuallydating her? You’reintendingto date her? Why are you still in the intentions phase? What’s wrong with you?”
“I have a date.”What the hell, Grandpa. This is my dating life. Don’t judge me on that too.“It’s complicated.”
