Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 87275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
“Eat, and then maybe we can go outside and play,” I say, scooping up the ball and placing it on the counter.
He barks in protest but loses his focus once he sniffs his food.
I peel an orange while gazing across the island, over the casual eating nook, and through the floor-to-ceiling windows on the other side of the room.
When I had this house built five years ago, I knew I wanted to be able to stand in the kitchen and look across the treetops to the valley behind it. The lot's dense vegetation and varied wildlife were a huge selling point. Nature has always given me a sense of peace, and I wanted to incorporate that into my daily life—even if only through a pane of glass.
I pop a wedge of fruit into my mouth and savor the sweetness. It’s the first thing I’ve had since breakfast, thanks to Georgia’s little stunt making me miss lunch.
A chuckle rumbles from my chest as I think about it … and her.
I'd find her entertaining if I didn’t dislike her as much as I do. She can go from a centerfold stretched out on a lounge chair, to a mouthy pain in the ass, to a sexy siren with the best set of tits I’ve ever seen. It’s as impressive as it is discombobulating. I go from being speechless, wanting to murder her, to wanting to fuck her within an inch of her life—all in the same two-minute span. Yet we always end each interaction at the same point. Disdain.
At least I won today’s battle. I think.
Another tennis ball strikes my foot, and I find Waffles standing before me with his tongue sticking out.
“Where did you get this one?” I ask, laughing.
He barks.
“Did you finish your dinner?” I ask.
He barks again, this time adding a tongue wag to the mix.
“All right,” I say, picking up the ball. “Let’s go outside for a few minutes.”
He races to the door and sits, waiting for me to catch up. I put the rest of my orange back in the kitchen and shove my phone into my gym shorts pocket.
As I step into the backyard, the evening sun warms my bare chest. The air is filled with a honeyed fragrance from a mystery plant in my landscape design and the bubbling of the pool across the deck. Waffles leaps into the air and barks, redirecting my attention to him.
“Ready?” I ask before throwing the ball across the yard. “Get it.”
He zooms after the ball just as my phone begins to ring.
I pluck it out of my pocket. “Hello?”
“Hey,” Gannon says. “You busy?”
I take the slobbery ball from Waffles and launch it again. “Not really. What’s up?”
“I just read a report that the public perception of our family hasn’t fully rebounded following Dad’s attempted implosion of Brewer Group.”
“Really?” I ask, giving Waffles a look not to jump on me. He sits quickly and side-eyes the ball at my feet. “Tate said he was getting a warmer welcome with the investors.”
“Yes, but the investors aren’t the public, so to speak.”
I pick up the ball and throw it as far as I can. “I saw the financial reports from the last quarter. They looked solid. I thought everyone was pleased with them.”
Gannon sighs. “We’re happy with where we stand for now. We’ve done a hell of a lot better than I anticipated at turning things back around and cultivating investor confidence. But the public’s impression of us is a different battle, and one we don’t seem to be winning.”
My stomach twists as a dark cloud settles over my head … because as much as this sucks professionally for Brewer Group, this doesn’t directly relate to me. What I do doesn’t impact Brewer’s bottom line.
Dad’s sentence from years ago comes back to haunt me. “You are completely redundant to our company. You make no contributions to our family.” He laughs. “If we took you out of the equation, life would carry on.”
“If the public looks at us negatively, it’ll undoubtedly bleed into employee morale,” Gannon continues. “It’ll affect our brand value, and we’ll lose a marketing advantage. People want to support exciting, feel-good stories. Thanks to Dad, we might be exciting, but it’s for all the wrong reasons.”
A year ago, Gannon and I would not be having this conversation. Dad kept me out of discussions about the family business as a punishment for not letting him direct my life. Of course, he never said that outright, but I know it’s true. We all do. But now that he’s gone, my siblings incorporate me into conversations and decisions, even if all I can offer is a sounding board. We all lean on each other more. We despise what our father did, but I think we’re all almost grateful for it in a way. He removed the thorn that kept our family segmented and brought us together.