Theirs to Share, #1 by Layla Valentine & Ana Sparks

Author:Layla Valentine & Ana Sparks
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Layla Valentine

CHAPTER 6

“Who died?” Claire whispers into the phone.

“No one.” I press my palm against my eyes. I’ve been lying immobile on the couch for twenty minutes. With the pain becoming too much to bear, there was only one thing to do: call my best friend.

“Is everything all right?”

A door shuts on her end.

“Where are you?”

“In the mop closet.”

“Ew.”

“Don’t worry about it. I come in here all the time during prep. Everyone thinks I’m, like, rolling silverware or taking out the trash.”

Despite my agony, I actually laugh. Claire works lunches at a sports bar. Despite the fact that she hates the job and I’m pretty sure she puts in close to zero percent effort, she makes good tips because she has a big personality and people love her.

“Are there any openings at the bar?” I grumble. “Because I’m pretty sure I’m about to lose my job.”

“Oh, no,” she gasps. “What happened?”

“Well…” I take in a long breath and uncover my eyes. The popcorn ceiling stares back. Where do I begin? “To sum it up, my new boss wants me to write a morally corrupt article, and I refused to do it, so he suspended me.”

“Shit, I’ve been suspended before. It’s no big deal. It’s not getting fired.”

“Yeah, but it’s on the fast-track to it. Also…”

“Also what?”

“There’s more to the story, but you might not believe it.”

“Oh, shit.” She lowers her voice. “I think the line cook is about to blow my cover. I gotta go.”

“Come over tonight?” I quickly ask.

“I’ll be there at six with a bottle of red.”

The line goes dead, and I’m left alone with my thoughts once more. Sighing, I sit up, everything that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours running through my head. Zach… Mr. Ford.

I keep seeing the look on Zach’s face when I left. He was so defensive, but also…hurt?

He tricked me. I should be mad about that.

But maybe he thinks that I was also tricking him. For all he knows, I’m in on Mr. Ford’s plan to bring him down.

The very thought makes me want to vomit. If the person I talked to at the bar last night was the real Zach, then there was something there. I don’t think I’m imagining it.

I need to apologize for what went down between us. He has to know that I in no way played a role in Mr. Ford’s plan.

And maybe, just maybe, he’ll accept my apology.

Maybe we’ll meet up again.

Maybe I’ll get to see if the jovial, intelligent guy I swooned for over drinks last night is the real Zach Garner.

It’s a lofty hope, but I’m hanging onto it.

Crossing the very limited open space, I take my laptop from the desk and plop back down on the couch. I might know where Zach lives, but my shot at getting back in there is so low it’s not even worth mulling over. I highly doubt he wants to talk to me. The doorman has probably been assigned to call the police if he even sees me around.

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