The Best Next Thing ((Un)Professionally Yours 1)
“Then why ask?”
“No reason.”
“You always have a reason…”
“What’s that? Vicki? Vicki? You’re breaking up…I…you…hear me?” Miles got a childish kick out of faking the bad connection. He had always wanted to do that, especially since he knew his siblings did it to him all the time.
“You’re so full of crap.” Vicki sounded unconvinced but, Miles chuckled and disconnected the call before she could say anything more.
The phone pinged a second later, and he lifted it to read the text from his sister:
I heard you laughing before you hung up. You didn’t fool me at all.
Don’t know what you’re talking about, he responded.
She replied by sending him an eyerolling emoji.
Love you, big bro. Stay healthy.
Don’t give Chambers too much shit. He’s just doing his job.
Not making any promises. XOXO
He was about to put his phone away when, purely on impulse, he called up Bryan’s number. His friend would surely want to know how he was feeling after his long flight. And if talk happened to drift to business? That would be par for the course for them.
The phone rang once before it was picked up.
“No!”
“Bry—”
“No, Miles. We agreed, I’d give you weekly updates. It’s barely been thirty-six hours since we last spoke.”
“Can’t I call to touch base with my buddy?”
“Are you calling to touch base with your buddy?” Bryan asked, and Miles grinned.
“Maybe I want to know how Hugh is doing? Has he fucked anything up yet?”
“No more than expected. Your brother is fine. He’ll do well. And don’t think you can call him to find out about the Lambert contract either. He’s under strict instruction to say nothing to you.”
“I wasn’t calling about the Lambert contract,” Miles lied. He had hoped Bryan would drop a breadcrumb or two.
 
; “Of course not, you’re touching base with your buddy. I’m fine. But my golf game is off. I lost to old man Fitzhugh on Sunday. Can you believe that? I think I need a new nine iron.”
Christ, Bryan knew that Miles hated it when he talked golf. It bored him to tears. He was happy to let Bryan schmooze potential investors on the golf course. In addition to
loathing the sport, Miles wasn’t too great with people. He left the socializing to his more personable COO.
Bryan was still droning on about golf, and trapped in a conversational noose of his own making, Miles sat back and listened. He knew that Bryan was doing this intentionally, but he wasn’t about to satisfy his arsehole friend by begging for mercy. His eyes kept drifting toward the decadent looking chocolate cake that took pride of place in the cake display. He may have to reward himself with a slice after this phone call.
George helped Charity load the groceries into the back of the SUV. She had serious doubts that what she had bought would last her and Mr. Hollingsworth more than a couple of weeks. But she would place a few online orders and hope that they managed delivery before any of the more severe storms predicted for the next week set in.
Carla, the assistant manager, had strolled through the store with her. The friendly woman had kept up a constant stream of one-sided conversation, shattering Charity’s concentration and forcing her to utter the occasional nicety in response. It had been trying and was one of the reasons Charity preferred not to shop in Riversend. Too many people trying too hard to be her friend. Her reticence seemed to bounce right off them, and they were all so earnest in their attempts to befriend her that it was impossible not to like them.
But a trip to Riversend always exhausted her, mentally and emotionally. It was draining to behave like a normal human being when she had all but forgotten how to be one.