Let Me (O'Brien Family, #2)(85)
Nothing bad was supposed to happen to Finnie. He was the baby. The one who counted on us. The one we were all supposed to keep safe.
With this new assignment―hearing stories like Finnie’s on a regular basis?—God damn it. “I don’t think I can do this,” I say yet again.
“Deck, you have to, man.”
A knock on the door interrupts us. I know who it is before I even ask. “Come in,” I say, assuming my attorney pose because for now, I have to. For now, I’m a professional. Even though all the Philly boy in me wants to do is rage.
My boss, Miles Fenske walks in, followed by his daughter Melissa. Miles smiles warmly, nodding my way.
Mel? What can I say? She’s the one person who’s never been taken by my charm. Today’s no different. Unlike the other females who work here, from interns to attorneys, she doesn’t meet me with a grin, doesn’t flash me a little leg, doesn’t pretend to flirt. Brown hair, brown eyes, creamy skin, with a steel-hard exterior, she walks in with her hips swinging, her bright red dress hugging her hourglass figure, her full lips pressed into a firm line, and her unyielding stare meeting mine.
She doesn’t like me. Not that I blame her. Too bad this is the one woman I can’t seem to get out of my damn mind . . .
READ ON FOR AN EXCERPT FROM
Crave Me
An O’Brien Family Novel
by Cecy Robson
CHAPTER 1
Wren
I drop the keys in Mr. Esposito’s hand and smile. He stares at them in his open palm like a precious gift, because to someone like him who’s worked hard his entire life, it very much is. “Thank you, Wren,” he says, meeting my smile. “I never thought I’d own a new car. Let alone be able to give one to my son as a gift.”
“You deserve it, Mr. Esposito,” I tell him, shaking his hand. “And so does your son for getting into Drexel. Tell Antonio, hi for me―Oh, and be sure to have someone take his picture when you hand him the keys.” I motion to my office behind me. “I want to add it to my memory wall.”
“I will.” He presses his lips tight as if considering what to say. “Your father would be proud of you,” he tells me. His soft brown eyes take in the massive dealership, fixing on the sales board displaying my current rank at number one. “Very proud.”
I hold onto my smile as he walks toward the brand new candy apple red F-150 hugging the curb, ignoring the brutal January wind that sweeps in when the doors to the lot zip open. Mr. Esposito pauses when he opens the driver’s side door. I had the boys in the back place a bow on dash like I do for all my customers. I think it’s a nice touch, and a way to thank them for their business. Apparently, Mr. Esposito agrees. He tosses me a grin over his shoulder, hollering his thanks as he slips inside and pulls away.
The moment he disappears so does my smile. “Your father would be proud of you,” he said. He meant it as a compliment. Mr. Esposito has always been nice like that. But instead of filling me with a sense of pride, his comment sparks a twinge of pain. Some things never change. And some people you never forget.
My heels click against the bleached white tile as I cross the showroom. It’s been a nasty winter with all the snow we’ve had, but I can’t say it’s been bad for business. My eyes narrow when they fix on Oscar looming over Penny. Penny is sweet, smart, and an overall good kid. She hasn’t been here long and she’s trying. Too bad Oscar is stomping on her success, luring customers away from her every chance he gets.
“You snooze, you lose,” he tells her, pegging her with one of his more sleazy grins.
Penny was making headway with the guy who walked in, until Oscar shoved his way between them and baited him away, making Penny look like she didn’t know what she was talking about. If I hadn’t been busy with my own customer, I would have stepped in. Nothing gets to me more than men who target those weaker than them.
“Wren!” Suze calls, waving from behind the finance counter. “You have a call.”
“Okay. Send it through,” I yell, hurrying across the floor, but not before I make sure Oscar steps far away from Penny.
The phone rings one, twice, before I slam the door behind me with my foot and reach across my desk. “Erin O’Brien,” I say.
There’s a brief pause before I hear, “Hi, Wren.”
Shit. My stomach twists the way it always does when I hear his voice. “What do you want, Bryant?” I ask, digging out my cell phone from my desk drawer.
“I miss you,” he says.
“Do you miss hitting me, too?” I fire back.
I’m talking tough. It’s what I do. Too bad I don’t feel so tough. Not when it comes to Bryant. That familiar sense of fear sends a chill down my spine, reminding me what happened the last time I pissed him off. I hit the record icon on my cell phone, hoping to catch him saying something I can use against him. But the damn thing beeps and for all Bryant is an * he’s not stupid.
“Are you recording me, pretty girl?” He laughs when I don’t answer. “Now, why would you do a thing like that?”
“Because I don’t trust you, because you hit me―oh, and because you’re an *.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, keeping his voice easy. “I’m just returning your call. You keep calling me so―”