Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 34938 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 175(@200wpm)___ 140(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34938 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 175(@200wpm)___ 140(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
Perri wants to be accepted, to be seen as capable, to be seen as equal to her father. As an asset to his company.
Well, I see her. I see her with clear eyes, and now I'm going to help her see it too. She doesn't need his approval to be amazing.
She's already there.
5
Perri
His hand. . . I like it there.
Holding, coddling, gently stroking across my knuckles as he mindlessly looks around. It's as if he isn't even aware he's doing it. But I notice it, I feel it, and I sense it. The hair on the back of my neck stands up, and my skin buzzes as he opens his fingers and adjusts his hand.
His fingers tighten around mine, securely holding me right at his side as we walk back to the beach house. The roughness of his skin scratches against my palm, sending a chill over my body.
I look up at him from the corner of my eyes, admiring this older man. His sharp jawline, bold blue eyes, aged, but perfect skin. He's a man who works for what he wants, who knows what hard work is, and I can feel that in his touch alone.
The way he holds himself is powerful. He isn't walking with his shoulders down or his head hanging low. He's taking strides as if the road is built for him, and it's sexy as hell.
I can't take my eyes off him. I'm walking blindly, letting him pull me along, leading us back. All my steps mirror his, and I'm happy to have him holding me so strongly, because I'm lost in him.
He stops at the crosswalk, and I finally pull my gaze off him long enough to see exactly where we are. My head happily swings forward, eyes shifting and focusing on the little beach house up the street.
The crosswalk sign changes, Kent takes the first step, and I readily follow with nothing weighing me down. He looks down at me and smiles, and I smile back. But as I turn my face forward, my heart suddenly jumps in my chest, and my lungs turn into blocks of ice.
Shit. . . No. No. No.
Slowing my feet to a stop, I quickly shake my hand free from his, and begin to rub my palms back and forth over each other. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit. . .” My voice trails off as my eyes expand, and I look up at Kent.
“What's wrong?” he asks.
“Look who decided to come check up on me already.” Throwing out my arm, I shake my head side to side. “This is ridiculous, it's barely been one day. Does he really have this little faith in me?”
“Why don't you go see what he's here for first, before you jump to any conclusions?” He nods his head confidently for me to follow him.
“Yeah, right, we both know my dad, and there's no doubt why he's here.”
“See this is the problem with people your age, you automatically jump to the worst case scenario. Maybe it's not what you think.”
“Mm, I doubt it.”
Kent starts walking forward, urging me along. “Hey, you want to be his property manager, this comes with the job. You had to know that.”
Dragging my feet, I groan and let my head fall back. “Easy for you to say. You haven't dealt with him your whole life. Plus, he respects you, which is not how he feels about me.”
“He'll respect you too, but you have to show him you're not afraid of him. It's called confidence, Perri.”
The way he says it makes me stop and question myself. Maybe he's right, maybe I've been too timid, too easily swayed in my stance, a push over to my father. I've never really challenged him, but maybe I should.
Am I ready for that?
I stop at the edge of the driveway and let out a soft breath. I can feel the sweat as it beads on my forehead, and my stomach as it drops in my gut. I'm not sure I'm ready for this type of confrontation.
Kent reaches the door first and pushes it open. He takes a step inside and I reluctantly follow behind him. My father is standing in the center of the room, facing the sliding glass door and looking out at the water.
“Bryce, I wasn't expecting you. You should have called and told me you were coming. I would have been here with whiskey and sushi.” Kent chuckles as he says it, and it sounds like he's trying to evoke a more pleasant response.
I'm now questioning how well he actually knows my father, and I don't think it's as well as I thought. Because I can tell immediately from my father's stance that he's not happy.
“What happened to the living room?” he asks, an edge of annoyance in his voice. I can hear it. It's unmistakable; his tone dry, callous, borderline insulting.