Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 93942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Zoe tugged on my sleeve, and I took a quick glance at her. She looked concerned about what I might do next. It was a look I got a lot.
“There’s still daylight,” I told the old man. “I could give you a lesson right now. It’s beautiful up there on the mountain. Let’s go, just you and me.” I stepped a little closer, placing my palm on his back and resisting the urge to give him a shove.
Hartley had a new look in his eyes. “Thanks, but I need to—”
“Come on, man. Live a little. Or we could go down to the bar. I’ll make you a drink. We’ll talk and get to know each other.” My hand slid around his shoulder, and I crowded him with my body. “Let’s have some fun.”
Hartley jolted as if I’d hit him with a cattle prod—which I cheerfully would have, if I’d had one.
Zoe gasped. “Kai—“ she began, but I didn’t look her way.
Hartley took a few hasty steps back. “Young man, what makes you think I would welcome that kind of attention from you?”
“What makes you think that she wants that kind of attention from you?” I reached out and pulled Zoe to my side. “Or any woman here. They’re here to work, not to help you relive your supposed glory days.”
Hartley’s face was turning red. “I was just being friendly.”
“So was I,” I said. “I invited you for a drink, didn’t I?”
“You—you touched me,” Hartley said, as if I’d stripped him down and shoved a ski pole up his ass.
“And you touched her. Repeatedly.”
“But—”
All of a sudden, I was sick of keeping up the friendly act. “Newsflash, you piece of shit. Women in their twenties are not looking for extra attention and friendly touches from men in their sixties. Nor any unwanted attention. Especially not at work, where they have to be polite instead of telling you what they really think.”
Hartley was enraged, but he glanced around, and I realized everyone in the lobby and at the front desk was staring at us. This kind of scene wouldn’t have any effect on a rich asshole like him, but I didn’t want it to hurt Zoe. “Keep your hands to yourself,” I growled, my voice a little lower. “And don’t force your company on any woman who hasn't shown you that she welcomes it. I'm thinking that list is very short. Just your wife, who you've been disrespecting the whole fucking week.”
The mention of his wife made steam come out of his ears. “This is bullshit,” he sputtered. “I didn't do anything wrong, but if you thought I had, you should have just been a man and slugged me, not… not… acted like that.”
I took a step toward him, letting him see my height, my muscles. “See, that's what I thought. I was trying to be an enlightened guy, but I’m more than happy to go back to plan A.
Hartley took a few hasty steps backwards until he ran into a couch, nearly tumbling over backwards. God, I wanted to beat the crap out of him. So fucking badly. But then Zoe tugged on my arm again, and this time I let her pull me away.
“You okay?” I asked Zoe when I ran into her the next day. She hadn’t said much to me after I confronted that fuckwad Hartley in the lobby yesterday. I think she’d been too stunned. But later Landon gave me an earful about how I shouldn’t have made a scene when Zoe was already in danger of getting a bad write-up about her internship. But I didn’t see how letting a horny old asshole feel her up would change that.
She looked up at me, blinking. She looked distracted, not her usual focused, determined self.
“Yes. Just worried about something. A family situation with my sister.”
“I get it,” I said. “I have a lot of trouble with my sibling, too.”
She laughed at that, and I loved the sound because it was genuine and unguarded, so different from the woman I’d met at that first ski lesson, who’d been all business and barely contained frustration.
But despite the laughter, she still looked troubled. Sibling relationships could mess you up. It was even worse for twins. Landon had always been the responsible one who had his shit together, the one who made good decisions and thought things through. I was the screwup who acted first and thought later, the one who lived for the moment and didn’t worry about consequences. Or at least that was the general consensus.
“Want to tell me about it?”
She fell into stride next to me, and we walked down the hallway together. “No. I just—these last couple of weeks haven’t gone the way I thought they would.”
I knew she meant in terms of her career, but surely something had gone right. “You’ve certainly gotten an education while here,” I pointed out. And hopefully she’d learn a hell of a lot more, too, before we parted ways.