Jackson nodded. “Yeah, I guess that’s what I meant.”
“Because I had such a fucked up life that naturally I’d want to help other people in the same situation, right?” asked Scarlett sardonically. “That I’d want to keep reliving all of the trauma and pain and bad shit I suffered by living through a countless number of other people’s lousy lives?”
He looked a bit taken aback by her words, then sheepish. “Well, when you put it that way, I can understand why you chose a different career path.”
“Can you really? I’m not so sure that you do. And by the way, you’re not the only person who knows about my past to assume the same sort of thing. That of course I’d want to give back and give people the same sort of help I received. Well, there’s a couple of things wrong with that theory. One,” she held up her index finger, “I never actually received a whole lot of help. Until I moved in with my foster mothers and was lucky enough to transfer to a good charter school with teachers who actually gave two fucks about their students, just about every single adult in the so called system failed me miserably. For years. And two.”
She blew out a breath, staring out the window again. “Two is simply that I can barely look out for myself most days. I just don’t have it in me to be emotionally supportive and encouraging to another human being. It’s one of the reasons I hardly date anymore. I kept attracting losers and needy guys who were more messed up than I was, and who constantly needed taking care of. I have enough trouble taking care of myself. And sorry if this makes me sound heartless, but I just can’t handle hearing any sad stories. I’ve had enough of that crap to last a lifetime. The way I look at it nowadays, it’s like survival of the fittest. If I can pull myself out of the gutter and make something out of my life, everyone else can damned well do the same. And sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not the least bit noble or charitable. Nor do I feel the need to quote unquote give back. If that makes me a bad person or a selfish bitch, well, that’s just the way it is.”
Jackson was quiet for long seconds, but she could tell by the look on his face that her words had resonated with him. When he continued to remain silent, she couldn’t resist taunting him a little, if for no other reason than just to observe his reaction.
“What is it that Devon does for a living?” she challenged. “If she even works, that is. And I’m just going to assume that whatever sort of job she might have doesn’t involve helping other people. She doesn’t seem the overly empathetic type from first glance.”
He snorted. “That’s putting it mildly. And she does work, owns some fancy high end boutique in Phoenix, though she’s got a college degree she doesn’t really put to good use. Why did you bring her up?”
Scarlett shrugged. “Just that you automatically assumed I’d want to be involved in the social worker slash therapist field, or someplace where I could help people, but you wouldn’t assume the same for your girlfriend. I mean, why should I feel the calling to help people but not her? Or anyone else for that matter?”
“You shouldn’t,” he assured her gently. “And I’m sorry for asking the question. You’re right, you’ve gone through enough in your life that you shouldn’t have to live through other people’s problems. You’ve got a perfect right to chose whatever profession you like. And knowing you, I’m positive you’ll be an extremely successful architect within a very short amount of time.”
“If you’re talking about making a bunch of money, I don’t really care about that,” she replied. “I mean, sure, I’d like to earn a comfortable living, enough to take care of myself and not have to worry about whether I can pay the bills that month, or have to constantly scrimp and save every dollar. But your kind of rich? Doesn’t interest me in the least. Rich people in particular are very wasteful, taking resources and goods for granted, and rarely being concerned about the environment. This world is going to shit in a hurry, and we all need to do a much better job taking care of it. That’s why my senior thesis is going to be focused on responsible building practices, in particular tiny homes and higher density housing.”
“You mean like live-work spaces and transit villages?” inquired Jackson, his eyes lighting up with interest.
She nodded. “Yeah, stuff along those lines, for sure. But my real interest is the tiny home market, making the most out of the smallest square footage possible, and getting super creative with storage and multi-functional spaces.”
“Wow.” He sounded both impressed and fascinated. “Too bad we’re only a mile or two from the resort, because I’d love to talk about your ideas. I’ve done some reading on the subjects, but it sounds like you know a whole lot more about them than I do.”
Scarlett scoffed. “You aren’t seriously thinking about trying to convince your mega-builder father into building those type of projects, are you? Out of curiosity, I looked up the company’s design portfolio on the website - six thousand square foot luxury homes, high-rise condo buildings, huge office parks. Oh, and weren’t there a few country clubs and resort hotels in the mix, too?”
“More than a few,” he acknowledged grimly. “And no, there’s zero chance my father would ever consider building anything environmentally friendly or high density. But my interest in your research has nothing to do with the company. At least, not my father’s company.”
“Ah, I get it now. You’re still flirting with the idea of spinning off on your own, cutting the apron strings, and starting your own business. Well, I’d be happy to discuss the subject with you, but if you think for one second you’re going to steal any of my ideas, Gilmore, just know that I’d sue your ass big time if you even tried,” she warned, waggling a finger at him.
Jackson burst out laughing. “God, the last thing I’d do would be to steal any of your ideas! And suing me would probably be the least harmful thing you’d do in retaliation. Have you ever considered,” he teased, his eyes twinkling, “that maybe I’d convince you to work for me? That is, if I ever followed through and actually started my own company. I think you and I could work very well together. If we vowed not to try and kill the other person on a daily basis, of course. Ah, here’s the entrance.”
Scarlett was so stunned by his oh-so-casual remark about working together one day - a remark that really hadn’t sounded as though he was teasing - that she paid not the slightest attention to her surroundings.
‘Could he possibly be serious?’ she asked herself incredulously. ‘I mean, there’s no way he could stay here in Phoenix, or probably even the state of Arizona, if he would ever leave the family business. I’m guessing his father would go out of his way to make his life hell if he stayed, even finding ways to screw up business deals for him out of spite. So that would mean moving out of state, maybe to California like he mentioned that one time. And that would probably mean he’d break up with Devon.’
But in the next moment, as Jackson pulled up under the porte cochere of the resort, Scarlett dismissed her thoughts as just another of her wild-eyed fantasies. Because even if he did end things with his current girlfriend at some point, a hot, good-looking guy like Jackson Gilmore would always have another woman waiting eagerly in the wings. A woman who looked or acted nothing like Scarlett, which meant that any chance of a romantic relationship between them was as nonexistent as ever.