Abby in a position where she has to agree? When there’s no other choice?”
“Not normally. But we’ll do a better job with the products than they can. This is for her own good.”
Holden groaned at Ryan, feeling a deep disappointment. “It’s a funny thing. Almost every time someone says they’re doing something for someone else’s good, it’s something that will benefit them.”
Ryan’s eyebrows slashed together. “We’ll be taking a chance on her. We might not make any money from this.”
“You’re right, we won’t make any money. Because we’re not going to do it.”
The muscles on Ryan’s face tightened, and his blue eyes flashed, the way they had when they were kids—just before he attacked Holden with flying fists and kicking feet, enraged because he wasn’t getting his way.
Holden held Ryan’s gaze, not giving in. Slowly the tension eased from Ryan’s shoulders. “I guess you’re right. As usual.” His tone sharpened with bitterness. “That must make you feel good.”
“Not really. There might be more than one way to help her.”
“Give her money?” Ryan sneered. “Don’t you always say not to give your friends money if you want them to stay friends?”
“That’s not what I meant.” An idea had formed in Holden’s mind, but he wasn’t telling Ryan. He wanted Ryan to think about it and get the idea himself. It would be the only way he’d feel good about it.
But Ryan scowled and stomped to the door. As he reached it, he snapped around. “Have you seen Portia lately?”
Holden watched Ryan through narrowed eyes. Thanks to their upbringing, Ryan had two sides. The fun-loving Ryan, and the angry, resentful Ryan.
The angry Ryan didn’t pop up often, but when it did, he could turn nasty.
“We had dinner on Saturday evening. We’ve both been busy and haven’t had a chance to get together.”
“Do you know what she’s been busy doing?”
The hairs on the back of Holden’s neck rose. “What do you mean?”
Ryan’s mouth twisted in a smirk. “You like to give me advice. Fine, here’s my advice back. Find out what your fiancée’s doing.”
Holden stared at him, not replying.
“That’s all I have to say.” Ryan whipped around and left, the door slamming behind him.
For seconds, Holden gazed at the closed door. Then, his movements stiff, he picked up his cell phone and pressed on a name, putting it to his ear instead of using the speakerphone.
The phone buzzed twice before Portia answered. She sounded the same as usual. No lilt in her voice or nervousness. Just her calm, smooth voice.
Eight days ago, he’d been pleased with their relationship, satisfied with their common goals and common sense.
That was before Cara. Before Abby. The last eight days had changed him—and he didn’t know if it was good or bad.
“Are you busy tonight?” he asked. “Would you like to join me for dinner?”
“Um...” Portia’s usually firm voice was hesitant. “I can leave early tonight. About seven? My place?”
“I’ll have Cara tonight.”
“Of course. I forgot. Your place is fine. I never did get a chance to meet Cara. I’ll be there at seven.”
“On second thought,” he said, “I’ll see if I can ask Abby to take care of her a little longer tonight. If there’s a problem, I’ll call. Otherwise, plan on me being there at seven.”
They hung up, and he swiveled to frown at the blue sky outside his window. Portia had hesitated before accepting his invitation. Normally he wouldn’t question her delay, but now he wondered why.
He picked up the phone to call the firm his company had used in the past to investigate background checks and items missing from the warehouse. But before the first ring started, he stopped the call.
Tonight he would ask Portia what was wrong. She would undoubtedly tell him, and everything would be fine.
Until then, he had one more call to make.
14
The phone’s ring jerked Minnie awake from her nap
“Not normally. But we’ll do a better job with the products than they can. This is for her own good.”
Holden groaned at Ryan, feeling a deep disappointment. “It’s a funny thing. Almost every time someone says they’re doing something for someone else’s good, it’s something that will benefit them.”
Ryan’s eyebrows slashed together. “We’ll be taking a chance on her. We might not make any money from this.”
“You’re right, we won’t make any money. Because we’re not going to do it.”
The muscles on Ryan’s face tightened, and his blue eyes flashed, the way they had when they were kids—just before he attacked Holden with flying fists and kicking feet, enraged because he wasn’t getting his way.
Holden held Ryan’s gaze, not giving in. Slowly the tension eased from Ryan’s shoulders. “I guess you’re right. As usual.” His tone sharpened with bitterness. “That must make you feel good.”
“Not really. There might be more than one way to help her.”
“Give her money?” Ryan sneered. “Don’t you always say not to give your friends money if you want them to stay friends?”
“That’s not what I meant.” An idea had formed in Holden’s mind, but he wasn’t telling Ryan. He wanted Ryan to think about it and get the idea himself. It would be the only way he’d feel good about it.
But Ryan scowled and stomped to the door. As he reached it, he snapped around. “Have you seen Portia lately?”
Holden watched Ryan through narrowed eyes. Thanks to their upbringing, Ryan had two sides. The fun-loving Ryan, and the angry, resentful Ryan.
The angry Ryan didn’t pop up often, but when it did, he could turn nasty.
“We had dinner on Saturday evening. We’ve both been busy and haven’t had a chance to get together.”
“Do you know what she’s been busy doing?”
The hairs on the back of Holden’s neck rose. “What do you mean?”
Ryan’s mouth twisted in a smirk. “You like to give me advice. Fine, here’s my advice back. Find out what your fiancée’s doing.”
Holden stared at him, not replying.
“That’s all I have to say.” Ryan whipped around and left, the door slamming behind him.
For seconds, Holden gazed at the closed door. Then, his movements stiff, he picked up his cell phone and pressed on a name, putting it to his ear instead of using the speakerphone.
The phone buzzed twice before Portia answered. She sounded the same as usual. No lilt in her voice or nervousness. Just her calm, smooth voice.
Eight days ago, he’d been pleased with their relationship, satisfied with their common goals and common sense.
That was before Cara. Before Abby. The last eight days had changed him—and he didn’t know if it was good or bad.
“Are you busy tonight?” he asked. “Would you like to join me for dinner?”
“Um...” Portia’s usually firm voice was hesitant. “I can leave early tonight. About seven? My place?”
“I’ll have Cara tonight.”
“Of course. I forgot. Your place is fine. I never did get a chance to meet Cara. I’ll be there at seven.”
“On second thought,” he said, “I’ll see if I can ask Abby to take care of her a little longer tonight. If there’s a problem, I’ll call. Otherwise, plan on me being there at seven.”
They hung up, and he swiveled to frown at the blue sky outside his window. Portia had hesitated before accepting his invitation. Normally he wouldn’t question her delay, but now he wondered why.
He picked up the phone to call the firm his company had used in the past to investigate background checks and items missing from the warehouse. But before the first ring started, he stopped the call.
Tonight he would ask Portia what was wrong. She would undoubtedly tell him, and everything would be fine.
Until then, he had one more call to make.
14
The phone’s ring jerked Minnie awake from her nap
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