Read Online Dalton, Tymber - Contractual Obligation (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) by Tymber Dalton - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Tymber Dalton
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a sleepy-sounding, “Hello, handsome. Long time, no talk.”
“Hey. Sorry, it’s been a wild couple of days.”
“Yeah, tell me about it.” He heard Tate yawn. “So, tell me about the new job.”
Doug didn’t want to. It meant another step on the road to saying good-bye to the man he loved. “I want to hear about yours, first.”
Tate laughed. “No, you don’t. Same job basically, only now I’m taking over Jenny’s supervisor duties, and she’s being promoted to take over for someone else who’s leaving. Come on, tell me.”
“Well, I’m training to take over for the assistant to the company’s CEO.”
“What company?”
“Wells Technology. Aerospace stuff. Her assistant is retiring.”
“Wow. That sounds like big bucks.”
“It is.” He resisted the urge to clear his throat. “The bad part is, I’m going to be working really long, crazy hours and travelling a lot. Especially at first.”
“Ah.” Tate fell silent.
“You okay?” Doug’s stomach twisted into a painful knot.
“How’s Mom?” he finally asked.
Doug took the out. “She’s aggravated the doctors won’t let her do more right now. She needs to let her foot heal first.”
An awkward silence descended. Tate finally broke it. “Let me guess. You’re trying to tell me I shouldn’t move down right now.”
Dammit . He wanted to deny it, but he couldn’t. “Well, we weren’t expecting you to get that promotion. I’d really hate to pull you from that. And after a couple of months, once I’m settled in my job, we can figure something out.”
“Ah.” More silence. “So when do I get to see you again?”
Doug closed his eyes. “I’ll be up next weekend.”
“Okay. I miss you.”
“I miss you, too.” More than you’ll ever know.
“Life’s going to get pretty crazy for a while, isn’t it?” Tate asked.
“Yeah. Looks like it.”
“Okay.” Tate’s silence told Doug more than he wanted to know. “I’ll let you go. I need to get up and get moving. I’m supposed to meet Bill and Kevin at noon to help them move.”
“Okay. Love you.”
“I love you, too, buddy.”
Doug stared at the phone in his hand, tears running down his face. Tate wasn’t an idiot. He cursed himself for being a coward.
Next weekend , he promised himself. I’ll do it next weekend.
He just hoped he could do it.
Chapter Eight
“ Seriously, Dad, you realize I’m not an invalid, right?” Harper griped as her father refused to let her help unload the truck. They’d stopped for groceries in Englewood before heading across the toll bridge to Gasparilla Island. Once the truck was unloaded, they’d most likely only use the golf cart he kept for toddling around the small town of Boca Grande.
“I gave you a job to do, sweetie. Go turn the A/C down cooler in the house and mix me up one of your great virgin margaritas.”
She rolled her eyes as she grabbed her keys and purse and headed up the stairs. It wouldn’t do any good to argue with him. The Boca Grande house sat perched on twelve-foot concrete pilings due to local building codes against tidal surge flooding should a storm hit the island. She felt badly that her dad would make several trips back and forth up the stairs when she was perfectly capable of toting her fair share.
She unlocked the door, turned off the alarm, and headed immediately to the thermostat to turn the air down. By the time her dad made it upstairs with the second load of bags, she already had the blender full of ice and her own special margarita recipe. When he finished unloading, they sat out on the screened lanai with the ceiling fans lazily stirring the cool evening sea breeze. The sun slowly sank into the Gulf of Mexico, painting the sky in vivid oranges, reds, and purples as it dipped below the horizon.
“Red sky at night,” he said as he sipped his drink. “That’s a good sign, sweetie.”
She smiled. “Sure, Daddy. It’s a good sign.”
“No, really, it is. You know the old saying.
“Hey. Sorry, it’s been a wild couple of days.”
“Yeah, tell me about it.” He heard Tate yawn. “So, tell me about the new job.”
Doug didn’t want to. It meant another step on the road to saying good-bye to the man he loved. “I want to hear about yours, first.”
Tate laughed. “No, you don’t. Same job basically, only now I’m taking over Jenny’s supervisor duties, and she’s being promoted to take over for someone else who’s leaving. Come on, tell me.”
“Well, I’m training to take over for the assistant to the company’s CEO.”
“What company?”
“Wells Technology. Aerospace stuff. Her assistant is retiring.”
“Wow. That sounds like big bucks.”
“It is.” He resisted the urge to clear his throat. “The bad part is, I’m going to be working really long, crazy hours and travelling a lot. Especially at first.”
“Ah.” Tate fell silent.
“You okay?” Doug’s stomach twisted into a painful knot.
“How’s Mom?” he finally asked.
Doug took the out. “She’s aggravated the doctors won’t let her do more right now. She needs to let her foot heal first.”
An awkward silence descended. Tate finally broke it. “Let me guess. You’re trying to tell me I shouldn’t move down right now.”
Dammit . He wanted to deny it, but he couldn’t. “Well, we weren’t expecting you to get that promotion. I’d really hate to pull you from that. And after a couple of months, once I’m settled in my job, we can figure something out.”
“Ah.” More silence. “So when do I get to see you again?”
Doug closed his eyes. “I’ll be up next weekend.”
“Okay. I miss you.”
“I miss you, too.” More than you’ll ever know.
“Life’s going to get pretty crazy for a while, isn’t it?” Tate asked.
“Yeah. Looks like it.”
“Okay.” Tate’s silence told Doug more than he wanted to know. “I’ll let you go. I need to get up and get moving. I’m supposed to meet Bill and Kevin at noon to help them move.”
“Okay. Love you.”
“I love you, too, buddy.”
Doug stared at the phone in his hand, tears running down his face. Tate wasn’t an idiot. He cursed himself for being a coward.
Next weekend , he promised himself. I’ll do it next weekend.
He just hoped he could do it.
Chapter Eight
“ Seriously, Dad, you realize I’m not an invalid, right?” Harper griped as her father refused to let her help unload the truck. They’d stopped for groceries in Englewood before heading across the toll bridge to Gasparilla Island. Once the truck was unloaded, they’d most likely only use the golf cart he kept for toddling around the small town of Boca Grande.
“I gave you a job to do, sweetie. Go turn the A/C down cooler in the house and mix me up one of your great virgin margaritas.”
She rolled her eyes as she grabbed her keys and purse and headed up the stairs. It wouldn’t do any good to argue with him. The Boca Grande house sat perched on twelve-foot concrete pilings due to local building codes against tidal surge flooding should a storm hit the island. She felt badly that her dad would make several trips back and forth up the stairs when she was perfectly capable of toting her fair share.
She unlocked the door, turned off the alarm, and headed immediately to the thermostat to turn the air down. By the time her dad made it upstairs with the second load of bags, she already had the blender full of ice and her own special margarita recipe. When he finished unloading, they sat out on the screened lanai with the ceiling fans lazily stirring the cool evening sea breeze. The sun slowly sank into the Gulf of Mexico, painting the sky in vivid oranges, reds, and purples as it dipped below the horizon.
“Red sky at night,” he said as he sipped his drink. “That’s a good sign, sweetie.”
She smiled. “Sure, Daddy. It’s a good sign.”
“No, really, it is. You know the old saying.
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