Page 42 of The Cowboy and the Bombshell
“Of course,” he said, and with nothing further, he turned and left. Fine. He could be mad at me; I could take it.
Picking up my phone, I arranged for the meals to be delivered, then popped up my computer to see what work I could accomplish while Penelope did what she needed to do. I had several messages from Ava as well and assured her that things were being handled. I also checked in with the other properties and managers I dealt with in my regular duties as regional manager. Everything was running smoothly, as I expected. Things tended to go well when you had a reliable team in place, and I was proud of my people.
It didn’t take long for Silas to return with his tablet. He set it down on my desk, the video all queued up.
“Are you sure about the date and time?” he asked, and the lack of irritation in his voice told me that he found something else to focus on, and it likely wasn’t good.
“According to Penelope’s out box, the email in question was sent at 12:47 p.m. today.”
“Well, I went though the entire day. The only person other than you and her to enter that office, was Toby Reynolds, and he was never alone. That was also almost four hours after the time the email was sent.” Pressing play on the computer, he showed me a sped-up video of the hallway outside Penelope’s door. I watched her go in and out several times, as well as other staff members moving up and down the hall, but at no time did anyone but Penelope go inside her office. I watched as Toby walked up, and then watched myself move into the office shortly after him. Everything matched up with Penelope’s story, but none of it explained how or why that email got sent.
“Is it possible she sent an email and accidentally mistyped the information?” Silas asked when the footage had finished.
“I suppose,” I said, although it would be very unlike her. Sure, she tended to be physically clumsy, but even that was only when she was nervous. Her work was her element, and she took great pride in doing it well. I couldn’t see her making that kid of error. “Anything is possible.”
Silas picked up his tablet and headed for the door. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Si,” I called, making him stop, but he didn’t turn and look at me. “Are we…alright?” I asked awkwardly. I thought I could let this go, but apparently, I was wrong.
Silas took a deep breath, his chest expanding beneath his shirt, and I realized that if he wanted to, my very good friend could kick my ass. Badly.
After another breath, he turned and looked at me. “We will be, Stone.” His eyes met mine, and I could see a whole host of emotions there: hurt and anger, sure. But there was also love. The love that said that we were best friends for life, and he would do anything to protect that. Even if it hurt him.
Shit. Maybe I was too harsh on him. He was my best friend, I trusted him with my life and all my secrets. Perhaps I could trust him with my little sister, as well.
I wanted to open my mouth and tell him that, but he closed his expression and turned, storming out of my office. I’d find a way to talk to him again; I couldn’t let my stubborn pride hurt my best friend.
I got back to work and it wasn’t long before security informed me that our meals had arrived. I met the delivery guy at the elevator, giving him a hefty tip, then took the food back to Penelope’s office.
I paused at the door to watch her. She had her head down, typing furiously at the key board, her frown creating an adorable wrinkle between her eyebrows. Penelope gnawed on her lower lip, something I’d seen her do numerous times when she was concentrating, and she looked adorable as hell. Moving further inside, I caught her attention and she looked up, smiling slightly at the sight of me.
“Dinner is served,” I said with a smile and a mock bow. “How are you making out?”
Penelope leaned back in her chair with a groan, rolling her neck from side to side. “It’s fine. Most people are pissed until they learn about the thousand dollars. Then they’re happy as clams. None of them have canceled, which is good, because Ava would probably murder me if they did.”
“You know,” I replied thoughtfully, popping the lids of the take out containers open and passing out the disposable forks. “I think she actually would murder you. She seems like the type to who would know how to hide a body.”
Penelope laughed out loud at that, sliding her lap top to the side to make room for her lasagna. I pulled the chair in front of her desk closer and open my own dinner, a simple spaghetti Bolognese.
“Thank you for dinner, Mr. Montgomery,” Penelope teases playfully, and I shoot her a smirk. “Actually,” she started cautiously, loading pasta on her fork. “I’ve been meaning to ask you, why you go by Montgomery and not Pennington.”
I grimaced, not liking the direction the conversation had taken. But Penelope had shared so much of herself with me, I thought that maybe it was time I returned the favor.
“There are a couple of reasons, actually.” I started, deciding to go with the easiest first. “When I started working for the company, I didn’t want anyone to think that I was there for any reason other than my ability to do the job. If people know who my father was, they would think less of me and my own merits.”
“Huh,” Penelope said softly. “I’m ashamed to admit that’s exactly what I thought when I learned who you were. After seeing how Constance and Toddrick worm their way around the office, I figured you were just another product of the Pennington nepotism game.” She smiled warmly at me. “I’m glad I was wrong.” Our eyes locked for a few seconds, hinting at things neither of us was ready to speak out loud. Penelope broke first, her gaze darting back to her meal, a blush rising in her cheeks. I let it go, continuing to answer her question.
“The second reason is much less noble and unfortunately way more petty,” I muttered. I didn’t want to tell her this part, knowing she missed her father as much as she did. It seemed ridiculous now, looking back on all the years I wasted by turning down all of Harold’s attempts to be a parent to me, when Penelope would probably give anything just to speak to her father again. “Harold didn’t know about me until I was almost four years old. My mother never tried to keep me from him, but all her attempts to contact him were side tracked by his staff, who were well paid to keep scandals like an illegitimate son out of the headlines.” I didn’t look at Penelope as I spoke, not wanting to see the pity in her eyes as I tell her about my sad childhood with out a dad. “He left my mom without a backwards glance, and over the years, I watched her heart continue to get broken by him. She gave me his name when I was born, but using it felt like an insult to her. To the fact that she raised me on her own, and I wanted to honor her for it. So whenever possible, I went by Montgomery instead of Pennington.”
Finishing my story, I exhaled a heavy breath, then raised my eyes to gauge Penelope’s reaction. I was pleasantly surprised when I didn’t see pity but something like admiration on her face.
“Stone,” she murmured, her hand reaching across the desk to clasp mine. “Your mom must be very proud of you.” I didn’t say anything, just watched as she moved her thumb across the back of my hand, her skin so pale compared to mine. “You care about her a lot. She sounds like she is a great mom.”
“The best,” I said quietly, a tightness forming in my chest. We ate in not-quite awkward silence, each lost in our own thoughts.
Penelope said that she made assumptions about me, and I know that I certainly made several about her. The thing was, I couldn’t have been more wrong. She was nothing like Constance and her mother, Deirdre, the women who constantly made me feel like garbage for being Harold’s illegitimate son. Penelope was warm, and caring, and kind. She worked hard for everything she had, and held no bitterness over the things she didn’t have.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized I had never met someone like her. Someone who had endured so much pain in life, and yet, offered nothing but happiness back. I certainly hadn’t dealt with my own losses as well as Penelope had, and the thought shamed me now.
