Chapter 8
eight
Tessa
Killian lets out a long groan as he stretches his arms over his head. “God, I can’t look at any more of this. The words are just starting to blur together.”
My neck is stiff, and I feel the same way. After I got back from meeting with Penny, where we discussed the launch of the new interior design service, Killian and I dove headfirst into the purchase orders.
Travis handled most of the sales and since that’s the first thing that was being affected in the business, it made sense to begin there. Whatever the issue is, I need to know so I can do some damage control and hopefully fix the image issue.
“I’m going to keep looking. We’re close, I can feel it.”
“Tessa, you need to rest. We’re not going to solve the puzzle today, unfortunately.”
Each day seems to be costing him money and my job is to help him strategize and help him mitigate the damage.
I stretch my neck side to side and sigh. “Maybe not, but I have to try.” My phone rings and it’s Meredith’s name on my screen. “Do you mind if I take this?”
“No, I’m done for the night. I’m going to grab us something to eat. Take the call in here.”
Killian leaves, closing the office door behind him, and I let out a sigh and then answer the phone.
“Hey, Mer,” I say as I answer.
“Tessy! I’ve missed you. How are you? Are you still in the area?”
I smile, remembering her rapid fire question mode. “I’m good. I miss you too. Yes, I’m here, I think I’ll be here at least another week.”
“Oh, problems at work?”
I look over at the papers on the floor. “You can say that.”
“Well, whatever the issue is, that company should be eternally grateful they have you there to fix the mess.”
I don’t think that’s the case, but her support is appreciated. “Thank you. Are you back? Can I come by? Dinner maybe?”
“Yes, I got home earlier today and would love nothing more than to catch up. Do you want me to meet you, or do you have a car?”
“I do, I rented one,” I tell her. “How about we plan for dinner on Saturday? It gives me the rest of the week to work through this without worrying.”
She squeals. “Absolutely. We’ll make Jake grill since I bought him one of those fancy ones that looks like an egg.
I’ll also order takeout because”—she drops her voice to a whisper—“while he thinks he knows what he’s doing, he either undercooks the meat or overcooks it.
So, you know, I’ll make sure we have a contingency. ”
I laugh. “I can’t wait.”
“Me neither. I’ll text you the address just so you have it—and see you Saturday, whatever time you want to come.”
“It’s going to be so great seeing you again.”
“It’s been too long.”
Well, now I’m excited. I haven’t seen my best friend in what feels like forever, and it gets me to spend some time away from Killian and the ever-mounting temptation that is him.
When I lift my head, I look at the paperwork and something catches my eye.
On one of the bills of sale, the signature is off.
I reach down and lift it up. Killian’s signature has been on a bunch of sales, and even though he can’t recall each one, he said that when it came to bills for any foals that came from his stud, he often signed those.
But this one…doesn’t look like the others. There’s something in the slant of the “T” and the price looks like it was changed.
I start to examine the other ones a little closer and there are slight differences. I start to sort them into piles.
“Killian!” I call for him.
He enters a few seconds later. “What’s wrong?” he asks as he looks down at me, sitting on the floor surrounded by piles and papers.
“Look at this,” I say, giving him the bill of sale to a guy named Andrew Bennett. This horse should’ve been double that cost. It was from his stud, and bred with a mare that produced a very successful racehorse. It should’ve been one of the highest sales, not the lowest.
He reads it over. “What am I missing?”
“First, look at the horses and the price.”
Killian half snorts and half scoffs. “What the fuck? I didn’t sell this one.”
“You signed it.”
He flips the paper over and shakes his head. “That’s not my signature.”
“I didn’t think so. Look at this one.” I hand him another.
This price is a lot higher than the others, which I didn’t think anything of when I started digging. I wasn’t aware of what drives some of the prices up, but this foal comes from Killian’s second horse, a great stud, but nowhere near what his derby winner is, and the mare is also untested.
“This doesn’t make sense.” Killian starts to pace. “I didn’t sign this one. I would’ve asked why the hell this one went for so much.”
“Are any of these your signature?”
He takes the pile, sits on the couch behind me, and starts going over them. “This is me.” He pulls one out.
I take it and put it in another pile. We go through each one, trying to organize it the best way possible.
At the end there are about ten bills of sale that were signed by someone other than Killian but bear his name.
“Could it be Travis’s signature?”
He shakes his head slowly. “I mean, it could be. But I don’t know why he wouldn’t just sign his name. He did on half of these. This is a fucking mess.”
I rest my hand on his forearm. “Let’s look into these first, then we can sort everything out.”
His eyes move to where my hand is, and when his eyes meet mine, I feel it everywhere. I pull my hand away and he runs his fingers through his hair. “This is a start.”
I tamp down my feeling and nod. “It is.”
“Let’s stop now, and we’ll look at it tomorrow with fresh eyes.”
Normally, I would be all for that. We’ve been at it for hours, and honestly, my mind isn’t firing on all cylinders. However, this means we’re not working and we’re staying in the same house.
What the hell are we supposed to do?
It’s late. I could just go to my room, which is probably the safest option.
But then Killian stands and extends his hand. “Come on, we need to eat and then I want to show you something.”
I look up, unsure of what to do, but there’s something in his eyes, an excitement that calls to me. So I take his hand and allow him to lead me into the living room.
“We’re going to order in and then go out to the barn.”
“The barn?” I ask, not really sure that’s a good idea.
“I want to show you a few of the foals.”
When we did a tour of the place yesterday, it was more about where things were and overall layout. I saw a few horses because it’s pretty much impossible not to, but I didn’t get to see any babies.
“I would really love that.”
He smiles. “Pizza or Chinese food?”
Oh, that’s a hard one. Still, I don’t know that I trust small-town pizza. “Weren’t you the one who warned me about Italian food here?”
Killian laughs. “I did. So, Chinese food it is. Why don’t you go change and I’ll call it in.”
I write down my order for him and then come up to my room.
This has truly been such a strange few days, but I actually have a little hope that we’re on to something. With us finding something abnormal, it almost feels like maybe we’ll get some answers.
I grab my jeans and change into a T-shirt—I didn’t really pack a lot of options, so I have to make do—and head downstairs. Killian is sitting on the couch, reading something on his phone and wearing a pair of wire-rimmed glasses.
Okay, why do the glasses just make him look hotter than usual?
I inwardly groan and put aside my thoughts of his sexiness as I enter the room.
“Hey,” he says when he looks up to see me.
“Hi.”
“Food should be here in about five to ten minutes. Do you want to watch something?” Killian asks as he lifts the remote.
I shake my head. “No, I’m good. Thank you though.”
He smiles and puts it down. “Not big into TV?”
“Oh, I love watching ridiculous reality shows, but it’s what I do on the weekends when I have hours to just put it on.”
He chuckles. “I can’t sit still that long. I tried to watch a series once and after two episodes I had to go outside and work.”
“I can lie on the couch on a Saturday for twelve hours and not even notice.” It’s not my finest quality, but it’s really sometimes what I need.
To zone out, forget the world, and watch mindless television.
“All week long I focus so much, I have to be one hundred percent tuned into work, so when I get the chance to just…veg…I do it big.”
“Do you like being a publicist?”
“I do. I mean, I love parts of it. I think my work is meaningful, especially when I can help others. I don’t hate it,” I answer in the most vague answer I can give.
While I do love the company I work for, it’s not my end game. My dream is to help people in a different way, more giving them the tools to avoid needing help fixing issues. It’s not something I’ll be able to afford to do, but…being a publicist isn’t something I went into life dreaming of.
Killian pulls his glasses off, tossing them on the coffee table. He shifts, facing me more directly. “I don’t hate a lot of things, but that doesn’t mean I like them. What did you dream of doing?”
I smile softly, trying to think how to answer this where I don’t sound like an idiot since this is my job.
“When I was little, I was never a girl who knew what she wanted, you know? I didn’t have this dream of growing up and being something.
I just wanted to make a difference, and then I thought I was going to be a therapist. I wanted to help people, really help people at their core. ”
“So what stopped you?” Killian asks as he drapes his arm across the back of the couch.
I pull my lip between my teeth as I let the weight of the question settle. There are so many things that contributed to it, but really, there’s just one big one. “My father.”
“Your father?”
“Yeah. It’s complicated and honestly, it’s not a fun story.”
“Do you want to tell me about it?”
God, not really. “Maybe another time.”