Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Gideon
My inbox was a nightmare. I rubbed my eyes. Some lingering stiffness remained from working outside for three days, but it didn’t compare to the way my body wanted to revolt after sitting behind my laptop yesterday and today.
I groaned, rolled my neck, and rose. I paced the kitchen and out to the living room. Sprinkles was curled in a ball on the couch, nestled in the blue fleece blanket Autumn curled up in when she was grading papers. The cat lifted her head and mewed. I scratched around her ears. Sometimes, she sat at the table in the chair next to me and snoozed.
“Was I too boring for you?”
She tucked her head back into her paws and ignored me.
A ping sounded from the kitchen. My goddamn email. I’d turned notifications on. I’d been restless today, drifting off when I was supposed to be paying attention in a meeting.
The newest email was from Taya. Normal reports to prep for next week’s meetings.
Meeting after fucking meeting.
I rubbed the back of my neck. I owed Taya a call. She’d been patient and she’d said it was about work, in a way.
I called her, putting the speaker on so I could continue pacing.
“About time, Gideon,” she said, annoyance ripe in her tone.
“I’d apologize, but you’ve noticed I’ve been working the entirety of my leave.”
“Which is for . . .”
“Something that’s almost taken care of.” That was all she’d get. “What’d you need to talk about?”
She sighed. “Gideon. What’s changed? You were rude to me at your place, I can’t get back in, and now you take two damn weeks to return my call.”
“You tried getting into my apartment?”
“I worked late one night and thought I’d crash there. Imagine my surprise when my code didn’t work.” Hurt lined the sarcasm. “Anyway, I’m just confused. You stand me up for a VIP visit, then there’s a redhead in your place, and now you’ve been gone for weeks. The board keeps asking me if I’m confident you’ll return, and honestly, Gideon, I have no idea. Before that morning, when I walked in on whatever that was, I’d have told them you were never leaving.”
I kept my personal life to myself. I wasn’t giving Taya an explanation, but I couldn’t deny I’d hurt her feelings. Her confusion was also valid. Before I’d met Autumn in that elevator, I’d have said I’d never ditch work for a month. But my business wasn’t settled. “Something came up and it’s private.”
“Right.” A brisk exhale gusted over the line. “Whatever.”
“Is this something that can wait until I return?”
“I should’ve let him hunt you down. Then he could get frustrated and give up.”
I rubbed my temples. I didn’t care either way.
My silence must’ve told her to keep talking or hang up. “You remember Harold Washington?”
He was an early-stage venture capitalist. His thing was to invest in a new business, usually a casino or hotel or combo, and then, when the profits were good, pull out and invest a portion into another business. He had his wealthy fingers in a lot of pots. My bosses had approached him for Silver, but he’d been entering into a deal on a high-rise in Phoenix at the time. But he liked to stop in and chat with board members when they were in town. I’d been to many networking events with him. “Yes, I remember Harold.”
“He wants to start a new investment group.” Excitement pitched her voice higher. “He wants you and me on the team.”
“He offered us a job?”
“Not just a job.” She spoke faster. “He told me his plans for a new hotel and casino. On the Strip, Gideon.”
Prime realty for a hotel and casino in Vegas. “But Silver’s doing well.” I felt like a dunce. I should be getting as thrilled as she was. Working with Harold would change my career, supercharge it. I was doing well as a CEO. I had a nest egg I could retire off of now. Add a little risk and Harold’s innate business savvy, and I’d be fly-to-space rich. I wouldn’t have to grind away twelve hours a day, seven days a week.
“Silver isn’t ours,” she said succinctly, nailing exactly why I should be drafting my resignation letter.
Silver wasn’t mine. I ran it like it was. I worked like the place was Percival Farms and my grandfather was in my ear telling me how I’d be letting down generations if I failed. But it wasn’t mine.
And that money in my accounts? The funds I had squirreled away? I might not get the opportunity to spend them on my family’s land. Sure, I could buy or invest anywhere, but this would be an opportunity to build something with people I respected. With individuals who weren’t family but who also didn’t block me out.
“Anyway, Harold gave me permission to tell you. He didn’t want to track you down in Montana.”
“And you were afraid I wouldn’t return.”
“All this is unlike you,” she agreed. “Look, I know he could find someone else, but you and I make a good team.”
She said it with such confidence I nodded. We did work well together. Neither of us had attachments, we kept the endgame in mind, and we let pride interfere at the right time. With my experience as CEO and hers as CFO—we would make a strong team.
A sour burn wicked its way up my throat. “When does he want an answer?”
The closing date was ten days away. I wouldn’t have to choose if given the chance to do both—buy Percival and invest with Harold Washington. I could have it all. But I’d have to leave Bourbon Canyon. Which I was doing anyway .
“I told him how long you were planning to be out and he said he wants to meet with you when you return. It also goes without saying...”
“Keep this between us.” The board respected me, but Silver was their gravy train. If they thought I was jumping ship, they’d replace me in a heartbeat. Loyalty ran stronger up the chain than down.
“Exactly. I love my job, but can you imagine? I could look at a place just like this and say I own that.” She sounded wistful, but my chest constricted.
I rubbed my sternum. What the hell was wrong with me? I’d stayed in Bourbon Canyon for barely three weeks and I was sad to leave it behind? To leave a dad who’d rather teach me some mysterious bullshit lesson than just be honest with me? To leave memories that were better left in the past because they did me fuck all now?
To leave Autumn?
The ache behind my ribs grew stronger. “I’ll be back soon. We can talk then.”
She hung up. I stared at my phone. Regret that I’d called her sank into my gut.
An investment group. I had my own investments, but nothing like what Harold would dabble in. He had an enviable business sense that I’d be a fool to say no to.
I scratched the back of my neck. My laptop sat open on the table, its screen dark, taunting me. I should get back to work, but I went to the living room and sank onto the couch. Sprinkles woke up, stretched until her back arched and quivered, then she sauntered onto my lap and curled up. I put a hand on her warm fur.
My yes should be instant, but I was nothing if not prudent. I’d give the idea a proper amount of time to marinate, then I’d decide.
Autumn
I’d wrapped up my last parent-teacher conference. Mine tended to run later. I loved to talk and some of my kids’ parents had concerns that I couldn’t bring myself to cut short or put off. Tonight, I was only wrapping up forty-five minutes late, but thankfully, it was the last set of parents who went over by half an hour.
The number of people roaming the halls had diminished. I’d texted Gideon that I was done and packed my stuff. When I was shrugging into my coat, Mark appeared in the doorway.
He shoved his hands in his slacks. “The snow’s falling pretty heavy out there.”
I’d been watching it while chatting with students and parents. “Snow day tomorrow?”
His smile was small. “Maybe.”
This was the most he’d talked to me since I’d returned from Vegas married. I flung a scarf around my neck and his gaze landed on my ring.
“How’s married life?”
“Good.” Soon to be over. The backs of my eyes burned. I blinked. Where had that reaction come from? I’d known how this would go.
But last weekend had been more of the weekend before. Gideon had come with me to the bar. He’d sipped a drink while I’d worked and done inventory and finished expense reports. Last night, for my Wednesday shift, he’d brought me a meal from Curly’s—with extra buns because I’d said I liked them.
But... there was something different. I couldn’t put my finger on it. He’d kept me too busy between the sheets—and on the kitchen table and in the shower—to ponder it too much. He’d opened himself up to me, but it was only a crack. I wasn’t getting further in, and the depressing truth was that there was no reason to. He worked at home all day, and at night, he lost himself in me. Wake up. Repeat.
If I hadn’t had conferences tonight, we’d be doing the same thing. As it was, he would pick me up, take me home, and before I got my coat off, he’d be on me. I shouldn’t complain. It was Gideon. Out-of-my-league Gideon James.
How could such spectacular sex leave me so empty?
“Good to hear.” Mark let out a nervous chuckle and walked several steps into the room. “I was afraid I was moving too fast, asking you to visit my family, but I guess I wasn’t quick enough.”
“It did feel a little sudden,” I admitted. “But Gideon and I... we just clicked.” I picked at the hem running up the side of my gray slacks. Was someone going to jump out of my supply nook and yell “liar”?
“Someday, maybe I’ll be so lucky.” His gaze dropped to the floor and he nodded. “I’m happy for you though. Maybe a little jealous of the way you’ve been floating through the halls.”
My laugh rang empty. Just like I’d be shortly. Soon, I would be explaining Gideon’s disappearance. He had to return to work. We’ll try distance . Then... Distance didn’t work. We tried. Turns out we have to consciously uncouple .
Fuck. The plan had been a lot different on the front end. When the little girl with big dreams inside of me had thought I’d get my conventional fairy tale after an unconventional beginning.
A tall, dark shadow appeared in the doorway. Gideon glowered at Mark.
“Speak of the devil,” Mark said easily. “I was telling your wife that one day I hope to be as lucky as her.”
Gideon’s gaze turned assessing. He must’ve heard the loneliness in Mark’s voice. If I hadn’t met Gideon and decided to go to Spokane with Mark, we might’ve gone all the way to the altar—the old-fashioned way. But ours wouldn’t have been a sweeping love story. We’d have been friends who had sex to scratch an itch and fulfill our life goals.
Wasn’t that an empty life too?
Gideon allowed a hint of a smile to show through. His peace offering. “Go to Vegas and give it a shot.”
Mark’s chuckle was good-natured. “That might be what I’m doing wrong. Glad you got here. I didn’t want to end the night digging anyone out.”
“The snow’s getting deep, but if you have all-wheel drive, you should be okay.”
Mark ducked his head. “The weather guy says the wind’s going to pick up. I think we’re all hoping for a snow day.”
“Since tomorrow’s Friday,” I said, “that’d be perfect timing.”
“A long weekend.” Mark nodded again. Was Gideon’s towering presence making him nervous? “But the snow is going to decide that.” He clapped his hands together. “You two take off. I’ll lock up. ”
“Thank you.” I scooted around him. “Have a good weekend.”
Gideon gave him a parting nod and then we were walking out. Gideon put his hand on my lower back and guided me all the way to the front door. He’d parked right in the middle of the drop-off area. Normally, that was a no-no, but it was late, and with the heavy clumps of flakes falling in my hair, I didn’t care.
In the car, I buckled up, but he didn’t drive away. He was scowling out the windshield. Was he upset about Mark?
“Everything okay?” I asked.
He blinked like I’d bopped him out of a trance. “What’s this about a snow day?”
Had he been planning to tell me something else? Our time was so short I doubted it was anything critical. “Well, this white stuff outside—it’s called snow. And when there’s a lot of it, we sometimes have to cancel school. But it has to be a lot, Mr. Casino. Not a dusting.”
The corner of his mouth kicked up. “I have a special punishment for smart-asses.”
And I was firmly in my dreamworld for the night. Maybe for the whole weekend. “Promise?”