I’m sure she was wondering why I wasn’t worth that much planning on Todd’s part. I got proposed to at the club during a Friday night fish fry. Asshole. Now he takes his soon-to-be wife away on my dime for some elaborate proposal?
I clench my fists but don’t respond, unable to find the right words.
“Don’t let it bother you. He’s a jackass and an idiot for not knowing what he had. His parents are a bunch of dimwits. You know I’ve always thought that.”
I giggle at my dad. He might’ve been hard on me and yeah, he’s a bit of a chauvinist, but when it comes to me, he has my back every damn time.
“It doesn’t bother me,” I insist. “It just bothers me that he’s doing it with my money. What good is a prenup if you still have to give away half your shit?”
“Now Hannah, you couldn’t have predicted Grandpa’s death to happen a year into your marriage. Nor the fact he was old school and thought once married you stayed married. The old fool thought he was being nice by putting Todd in his will along with you.”
“Exactly that. Any true gentleman wouldn’t have taken the money, especially when he’s the reason the marriage fell apart. He’s a surgeon. It’s not like he’s barely scraping by.”
“You afforded him a lifestyle he never would’ve had even with being a surgeon. You gotta let that go, move on with your life. I’m sure there’s another guy out there who’s been waiting to snatch you up.”
“Snatch me up? Dad,” I sigh.
“Oh, Hannah, you need to stop worrying so much. So what if Todd got more than he ever should have? He hired a great lawyer. Too bad it was before we could put him on retainer.”
“He wasn’t that great,” I grumble.
“That’s because you were on the opposite end. If he would’ve been yours, you’d have been kissing his feet.”
“I don’t think so.” I pace back and forth in front of the window.
“At least if you get married again and it doesn’t work out, we know who to call.” He chuckles.
I roll my eyes again, happy my dad can’t see me. If he could, he’d tell me that’s no way to behave toward my father.
“No worries there. It was hard enough for me to become a Crowley again after the divorce. I’m not giving up the name a second time.”
That’s the truth. Who knew how hard government offices made it to change back to your maiden name? When I had gotten married, the attendants would smile and ask me when the wedding was, how he proposed, where we honeymooned. When you tell them you’re divorced their lips turn down and they don’t ask any other questions.
Of course then again, what are they going to ask? How many years did it last? Whose fault was it?
“Oh pumpkin, you had one failed marriage. Look at Uncle Harrison, it took him five tries before he found the right one. We just have to protect ourselves better. Next time we know to tighten up the prenup. Simple. Don’t go off and punish every other man because Todd was an ass who was looking for his chunk of gold. I told you I never liked those people from the moment they moved in.”
“Thanks for the pep talk, Dad.” I smile to myself.
“I’m at the course now. I don’t want you to close yourself off from other opportunities. Your guy is out there somewhere.” He switches the phone off Bluetooth and onto speaker.
“Gregory!” one of his buddies says in the background.
“Great day for golf,” my dad says.
“Okay, talk to you later, Dad.”
“Yep, talk to you soon. Come by for dinner on Sunday. Your mom is worried about you.”
“I’ll try,” I say, knowing I probably won’t.
“Try harder. Bye, sweetie.”
The line dies and I lean my shoulder on the glass window.
Todd’s engaged.
As much as I was happy to sign the divorce papers, I can’t help but wonder, what makes her so special? More special than me.
My phone buzzes from where it still sits on the desk so I step over and see the number I programmed in yesterday on the screen with a notification. I pick up the phone and open it to read the message.
Roarke: Ready for favor number 2?
Me: How did you get my cell phone number?
Roarke: Feel lucky that I haven’t used it until now.
Me: Yay me. What’s the favor?
Roarke: I have to go out of town this weekend. Family emergency. I need someone to housesit.
Me: Housesit?
Roarke: Yes.
Me: Are you asking me to water your plants and feed your fish?
He can’t be serious. He’s going to use a favor for me to babysit his empty house?
Roarke: No. I’m asking you to spend the weekend at my place while I’m out of town. I have a kitten and he’s just getting comfortable. Are you allergic?
Shit, say yes, Hannah. Say you’ll go into anaphylactic shock.
I start to type out the lie and then delete it then start to type it out again, but for some reason unknown to me I can’t hit send on the lie.
Roarke: I’ll take your silence as a no.
Me: I think this is a little over the boundaries.
Roarke: It’s not sexual or embarrassing. Do you find me asking you to housesit demeaning in some way?
Bastard.
Me: Aren’t you afraid I’ll snoop?
Roarke: Quite the opposite. I’m hoping you do.
Me: Who are you?
Roarke: I believe I’ve overheard your employees referring to me as the silver fox, but you can just call me Roarke.
Roarke: ;)
Me: I have a dog and I have no idea if she gets along with cats.
Roarke: Puppy?
Me: Yes.
Roarke: Boy or girl?
Me: I take it from all your questions that you don’t still keep tabs on me?
Roarke: You think I had you followed? Is that what you’re worried about?
I don’t answer because I want to say yes, I do. This round robin game we keep going through is growing tired.
Roarke: Back to the puppy and kitten debacle. Bring your dog. If they don’t get along, I’ll give you a number to call for someone else to come over. Deal?
Me: I suppose so.
I’m not going to stick up my nose to such a simple favor. Especially one where I don’t even have to be around him to fulfill.
Roarke: Perfect. I’ll have a key dropped off today and I’ll text you the address. Please keep it confidential. As you’re aware, many people don’t like me and I’d rather they not know where I live. There will be a note on my kitchen counter with directions.
So professional like he’s going to use me as his servant instead of his sex slave.
That thought shouldn’t disappoint me as much as it does.
Chapter Eight
The taxi drops me off in front of the address Roarke sent me.
“Come on, Lucy.” I tug on her leash, but her butt slides along the concrete.
She is not the protective German Shepard I thought I was buying.
I tug a few more times and she finally stands and prances across the concrete until a man spins through the revolving door at the building’s entrance. Her paws halt.