The bubble they’d been in was officially breeched. And he knew there was no getting it back.
When Chance came back to find Bradley saddled up, holding Rocket’s reins he only nodded, mounted, and led the way home.
Chapter 11
Bradley’s phone buzzed. Can you check over these final figures from the bank for me?
Of course. Off in ten. Bradley responded just in time for his father to walk in. Of course.
“Is that what we’re paying you for?” As usual his father sounded more bored than anything. He’d have to show emotion to admonish Bradley. Heaven forbid he be anything other than a cold bastard.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Bradley drawled. “I’ve seen you twice in as many weeks. God surely is good.”
“Don’t be blasphemous. It’s beneath you.”
“It’s always a joy sparring with you Reverend, but is there anything I can help you with in particular?”
His father placed a leather portfolio on his desk. “I don’t like the numbers you came up with on the quarterly.”
Bradley picked it up, scanning the red pen marks. He raised a brow as he glared at his father. “Graded by the Reverend Heart and failing as usual.”
“Graded by your employer and found lacking, Bradley.”
His hackles raised but he didn’t retort. One, two, three… “I don’t know what you want me to do, sir. These numbers took three weeks of shaking down Debby and the deacons. They don’t want to give and if you refuse to we’ll not have the budget for this summer’s construction. Though why the compound needs another wing…”
“Must you call it the compound?”
He fell back in his chair. “Either way, you’ll have to find a budget you can live with or give up the new construction. Because while you are my employer, I’m merely your accountant. And seeing as you’ve fired every business manager, whose duties this would usually include, I’m holding my ground. This isn’t in my contract so if you fire me for it, so be it. The end.” He said each word carefully. His father nodded and Bradley thought he may see grudging respect there. Not many people stood up to the good Reverend. Bradley had enough savings he could live meagerly unemployed for a few months. His patience was worn thin.
“Very well.” His father turned to leave again. Then awkwardly asked over his shoulder, “Everything okay? Outside of work?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Is the cottage in need of anything?”
“No, sir. Ronaldo came and did the touch up painting. Otherwise, everything is good.”
“Good, good. Well. See if you can do any more finagling with Debby. I know she can be… difficult.”
Bradley watched his father’s retreating back. He wished the old man wouldn’t even try to be civil. It was more awkward than the official freeze out they’d maintained for years. But Bradley had the feeling his sister was giving the Reverend hell. Which he’d explained was entirely unnecessary, to which she’d said it wasn’t for Bradley’s sake, but for hers. She’d liked having him around even if they didn’t get to spend much time together. They managed lunch every once in a while and he’d gone to her oldest son, Cody’s T-ball games when he could get out on time.
When it was time to head out, he shot Chance a text to let him know he was on the way over. In the two weeks since their ride to the river, they’d done a couple more number crunching sessions. They always ended the afternoon with a beer and stories from their days of competing with the AQHA. It was an easy friendship so long as they didn’t stare too long or get to talking about Chance’s closet. Chance had apologized for saying so much that day.
“I’ve never said those things to anyone. So. Thank you for listening.”
“What are friends for, man?”
But Chance seemed a little freer since he’d lanced that boil.
When Chance came back to find Bradley saddled up, holding Rocket’s reins he only nodded, mounted, and led the way home.
Chapter 11
Bradley’s phone buzzed. Can you check over these final figures from the bank for me?
Of course. Off in ten. Bradley responded just in time for his father to walk in. Of course.
“Is that what we’re paying you for?” As usual his father sounded more bored than anything. He’d have to show emotion to admonish Bradley. Heaven forbid he be anything other than a cold bastard.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Bradley drawled. “I’ve seen you twice in as many weeks. God surely is good.”
“Don’t be blasphemous. It’s beneath you.”
“It’s always a joy sparring with you Reverend, but is there anything I can help you with in particular?”
His father placed a leather portfolio on his desk. “I don’t like the numbers you came up with on the quarterly.”
Bradley picked it up, scanning the red pen marks. He raised a brow as he glared at his father. “Graded by the Reverend Heart and failing as usual.”
“Graded by your employer and found lacking, Bradley.”
His hackles raised but he didn’t retort. One, two, three… “I don’t know what you want me to do, sir. These numbers took three weeks of shaking down Debby and the deacons. They don’t want to give and if you refuse to we’ll not have the budget for this summer’s construction. Though why the compound needs another wing…”
“Must you call it the compound?”
He fell back in his chair. “Either way, you’ll have to find a budget you can live with or give up the new construction. Because while you are my employer, I’m merely your accountant. And seeing as you’ve fired every business manager, whose duties this would usually include, I’m holding my ground. This isn’t in my contract so if you fire me for it, so be it. The end.” He said each word carefully. His father nodded and Bradley thought he may see grudging respect there. Not many people stood up to the good Reverend. Bradley had enough savings he could live meagerly unemployed for a few months. His patience was worn thin.
“Very well.” His father turned to leave again. Then awkwardly asked over his shoulder, “Everything okay? Outside of work?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Is the cottage in need of anything?”
“No, sir. Ronaldo came and did the touch up painting. Otherwise, everything is good.”
“Good, good. Well. See if you can do any more finagling with Debby. I know she can be… difficult.”
Bradley watched his father’s retreating back. He wished the old man wouldn’t even try to be civil. It was more awkward than the official freeze out they’d maintained for years. But Bradley had the feeling his sister was giving the Reverend hell. Which he’d explained was entirely unnecessary, to which she’d said it wasn’t for Bradley’s sake, but for hers. She’d liked having him around even if they didn’t get to spend much time together. They managed lunch every once in a while and he’d gone to her oldest son, Cody’s T-ball games when he could get out on time.
When it was time to head out, he shot Chance a text to let him know he was on the way over. In the two weeks since their ride to the river, they’d done a couple more number crunching sessions. They always ended the afternoon with a beer and stories from their days of competing with the AQHA. It was an easy friendship so long as they didn’t stare too long or get to talking about Chance’s closet. Chance had apologized for saying so much that day.
“I’ve never said those things to anyone. So. Thank you for listening.”
“What are friends for, man?”
But Chance seemed a little freer since he’d lanced that boil.
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