Page 14 of The Cowboy and the Bombshell
This girl was nothing but trouble.
“I’m sure that Pennington Hotels has a whole array of talented staff in all our departments. However, Miss Lund is there for a reason, Stone. And while I can’t tell you why that is, exactly, I can tell you that she is the only one I want on the Las Vegas start up campaign.”
“That’s a bullshit answer, and you know it.”
“Yes,” he sighed. “It is. And I do know it. But for once in your life, can you please trust me? And believe that I have your best interests at heart? Penelope Lund is perfect right where she is.”
I didn’t like it. At all. But he was the CEO. If this project was going to fail, it was ultimately his name on the building.
And mine, I guess, if we’re getting technical.
Shit.
“Just for the record, I’m against this the entire way.” I stated, wanting to get the last word for some insane and immature reason. Talking to my father always did this to me. Talking to him with Penelope Lund in the same house? I was going off the freakin’ rails.
“Your grievance has been noted,” Harold said with a laugh.
“Fine,” I said, prepared to end the conversation, but as I moved my thumb to the disconnect button, he called my name.
“Stone?” he asked, the hope in his voice making me feel a small measure of guilt.
Very small.
“Yeah?” I replied, trying to soften my tone. Maybe I succeeded.
“Thank you,” Harold said quietly. “I know you will do a great job out there in Las Vegas. I am so proud of the things you have already accomplished. I’m always proud of you, son.”
Clenching my jaw against the strange and raw emotions now hurtling through me, it was a moment before I could speak. When I did, my voice was rough and choked. I hated that, too.
“Yeah,” was all I managed. He was going to have to take it.
“Good night, son,” Harold said, and then he was gone.
I stared at the blank screen of my phone, trying to process the day. There were too many things happening. To many strange events all crammed into twenty-four hours that I couldn’t seem to get a handle on what I was feeling, so I went with what I knew. What I was comfortable with.
Anger.
I was angry that Harold insisted I keep Miss Lund on staff. I was angry that she would be sharing this house with me. I was angry she was apparently good enough at her job that Harold felt he needed her. And I was angry I found her so damn attractive when I was trying so friggin’ hard to hate her.
The whole situation was shit.
Kicking off my jeans, I climbed into the huge bed, set my alarm, and leaned back against the small mountain of pillows that, for some reason, all smelled of the ocean. There wasn’t an ocean around for almost three hundred miles.
Fuckin’ rich people.
Sure, I made good money working for Pennington Hotels, but there was something about people who had grown up rich - like, never driving your own car rich - that just rubbed me the wrong way. They didn’t understand struggle. The didn’t know what it was like to sacrifice, to have to put your dreams on hold until you could obtain them the old-fashioned way, through dedication and hard work. Blood, sweat, and tears. That’s what built character. Not trips to Europe and shopping on Madison Avenue.
Sighing, I stared up at the dark ceiling, wishing I was back in Texas. Wishing I was finished with this project and back where I belonged.
The good news was that Silas had messaged me earlier. He would be wrapping up in Austin sooner than anticipated and should be here tomorrow. If anyone could talk me down from this ledge, it was him. I hated to burden my mother with my emotional baggage. Especially after her speech this morning about giving this an honest try.
Rolling over and moving the pillows around - it really was a ridiculous number of pillows for one bed - I resolved to get through this as quickly and efficiently as possible so I could get my ass back to Texas as fast as I could.
I was starting to hate Las Vegas.
CHAPTER SIX
Penelope
