Twist of Fate by Louise, Tia (free ebook reader for ipad .txt) 📗

dad, it was because of me. When he decided to quit football and work with his dad, it was my fault. I was a gold-digging whore trying to hang onto his fame. Now look where that’s gotten me.”

She exhales a bitter laugh, lifting her chin around the small house.

“But…” Again, my voice feels too quiet, too innocent. “J.R. loves being a dad. He married you because he wanted to marry you. Anyway, it takes two to make a baby.”

“We know that.” She takes Jesse from my arms and holds him against her chest as she glares down at me. “But you know who led the charge against me? Your boyfriend Scout.”

I feel cold and unprotected without Jesse in my arms. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Do you love him?” She takes a step closer, and I edge to the door. “Do you?”

My lip goes between my teeth, and I lie. “No.”

I do love him, but am I a silly little fool? Lord knows, I believe it every single day of every week that passes. Last I heard, he had a dinner date, and for all I know it was with the next Jennifer Lawrence.

“Take my advice. Keep doing what you’re doing and let him keep doing what he’s doing. If he leaves Los Angeles to come back here and marry you, he’ll resent you forever.”

I’m out the house, and she lets the screen door slam in my face. My lips part, but no words come out. Sliding my hand over my stomach, I turn and slowly walk to the car. That was not what I expected to happen when I pulled into this driveway.

I thought Fate was a bitch, but I’m not sure anyone is as wicked as Becky St. John.

“I can’t believe you’re turning down the Southeast region for a baby.” Spencer sits in a leather wingback across his desk from me. He’s angry, but it’s more protective disbelief than disgust.

“It’s not like I’m turning it down for a better offer.”

“You’d damn well better not be. I’ll have your hide.”

That makes me laugh, and I stand out of my chair, walking to a built-in oak bookcase.

Spencer’s office isn’t as massive as Miles’s, but it’s still pretty big. It’s also on the opposite corner, which I guess signifies he’s second in command.

“I had hoped you might consider holding a place for me, for when I come back in a few years. Maybe I can work my way up again?”

His hazel eyes meet mine. “It’s that football player’s, isn’t it?”

Dropping my chin, I push a curl behind my ear. “I don’t know why that matters.”

“I’d actually considered asking you out, but it was a lost cause once that pituitary case showed up in town.”

“Scout is not a pituitary case!” My voice goes loud, and Spencer laughs.

“You’re still in love with him.” I start to speak, but he waves a hand at me, pushing out of his chair and closing the space between us. “Of course, I’ll hire you again. What will you do in the meantime? Sit home and knit little garments?”

“You’re such a snob, Spencer. Did it ever occur to you that your arrogance might be the reason I didn’t want to date you?”

“No.” His voice drops, and his smile is irritatingly confident as he looks down on me. “I’ve found most women like a man who knows what he wants.”

Crossing my arms for protection, I grudgingly acknowledge, Spencer is attractive in that super-rich, super-cocky, asshole sort of way. “I prefer nice men.”

“I can be nice when I want to be.” Turning on his heel, he goes to the window overlooking downtown. “Tell me you’re not leaving the business. That would be the real tragedy.”

“I’m not.” I study the antiques lining his shelves. A pristine, turn of the century brass telephone sits on one. “I’m going to open a shop like my dad’s.”

He turns to face me. “In Fireside?”

“Actually, I’ve found a location a bit closer to the coast. A fellow is converting some old storefronts in Oceanside Village. The rent is affordable, and Dad said he’d help me get on my feet.”

“I’m very happy to hear this, although you know you don’t need a storefront. You could open an online store and work from anywhere, make your own schedule.”

“I’ll have a website, but I want a physical store.” I lift the piece of Fenton art glass that brought us together—a pink pitcher with the trademark hobnails covering the base and the signature ruffles around the top. “People need to be able to lift and touch things and meet other collectors.” I don’t add, like we did.

“I like this plan. Keep me posted, and I’ll be happy to drive customers your way.”

A weight lifts off my chest, and I rush over to give him a hug. “Thank you, Spence. You’re a real friend.”

He pats my arm, and grouses. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t call me that.”

Hope nudges a giggle in my chest as I return to my old office to collect my few things. I slide my finger along the mahogany desk that was briefly mine and make a promise to myself. If this is where I’m supposed to be, I’ll be back.

This isn’t over.

Sixteen

Scout

One thing I’ve learned from being a gay porn star—things can always get worse.

“Dude. You’ve got to take a shower. You smell like old Thai food rolled in toe cheese.” Crenshaw stands over me, waving a bamboo fan in front of his face.

“Hey, you’re back.” I roll off the couch into a pile of beer cans, half-empty pizza boxes, and bongs. Pushing off the floor, I scratch my stomach as I survey the mess that is our apartment. “How did this place get so filthy?”

“I think it’s called giving up.” My roommate steps over a smaller pile into the kitchen and pulls out a black trash bag. “This is what happens when I go to San Francisco for three weeks?”

“How was yoga camp?”

“It was the School of Positive Transformation, and it was a very uplifting experience.”

“Cool.”