Palm Trees and Paparazzi by J.C. Long

Author:J.C. Long [Long, J.C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: NineStar Press, LGBT, gay, mystery, romance, contemporary, establishes relationship
Publisher: NineStar Press
Published: 2019-04-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

THE NEXT MORNING my anger hadn’t abated. I’d hoped sleep might at least lessen the intensity of it, but it still burned brightly in my chest.

I stopped my phone’s alarm and sat on the edge of my bed, shoulders slouched, staring at the patch of floor between my feet. Maybe I would just stay home today. It’s not like I had to get anyone’s permission to do so, since I was co-owner of the company. It would probably do a world of good for this anger building inside me to avoid seeing Grace. Just thinking about her made it flare up hot in my chest, like heartburn. I had no idea what seeing her would do.

As tempting as it was to avoid her, though, I was needed at work and I knew that. This case was too big for her to work alone. She would need my help, and since I was financially invested in the company, I didn’t want to see this case screwed up. Making an enemy of a wealthy woman like Helena Hu struck me as a very bad idea—especially considering we’d already made one wealthy enemy in Manuel Delgado.

As I finished a hastily prepared breakfast of Cheerios and brushed my teeth in the bathroom mirror, I silently reminded myself that I was a professional. Sure, I was pissed as hell at Grace, but that didn’t mean I had to allow that to interfere with our professional environment.

We could be pissed at each other and still work together. Ideally, anyway. I was about to find out if that theory worked in practice.

I did my best to calm my anger toward her on the drive to work, listening to Enya in the hopes it would set me in a tranquil mood. At first, I thought it had worked until I arrived at work and saw Grace’s Jeep in the parking lot, and the anger bubbled up in me once more, like a cooled tea kettle put back on the fire and brought to a boil once more.

You can still turn around, I told myself. You haven’t turned into the parking lot yet. There’s still time.

I wasn’t going to turn around, though, and I knew that. I had to face Grace eventually, so I might as well get it over with now, before the anger could harden into bitterness.

Grace was waiting in the front for me, a cup of Starbucks coffee in hand. When she spoke, her voice had that same tone someone used with a dog they weren’t sure was dangerous or not. “Good morning.”

I grunted a greeting, not trusting my voice. I was finding it hard enough not to grit my teeth around her.

“I brought coffee.” She held the cup toward me, her bearing again reminding me of someone dealing with a dog they were unfamiliar with. The mental analogy itself fueled my anger, even though I knew I couldn’t logically blame that on Grace. Logic had gone out the window.

“I had some on the way.” My voice sounded frosty even to my own ears, but I didn’t care.

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