Tell Me a Story (The Story Series Book 1) by Tamara Lush Page B

coffeemaker and poured myself a cup of bitter, black brew. Two sips were enough to make me retch and I dumped it into the sink.
    Sarah’s news didn’t make me feel any better. I didn’t want a rich man. I wasn’t interested in a billionaire.
    I didn’t want to talk to anyone, not Sarah and definitely not Caleb. I felt numb. Maybe he’d been keeping a secret from me, and even if he hadn’t, I didn’t want him to know how much trouble I’d be in financially if I lost the bookstore. Somehow, this situation was more painful than when I’d discovered Eric was married. It was my fault for trusting Caleb so soon and not finding out more about his business. I should have put two and two together.
    Quite simply, I had been thinking with my hormones and not my brain.
    Sarah drove me home, and when I reached my front door, there was a bouquet of red roses and a card.
    Emma, I had NO IDEA. Please. Call me. I am worried about you. – C.
    I sighed and went inside, tossing the roses into the trash. I stretched out on the floor and played with Higgins for a while as I thought about Caleb and tried to parse my memories for clues. Was he lying? Had he known that his company had bought the building? More importantly, did it matter? Because once I was evicted and jobless, why would someone like him want someone like me?
    He’d never understand me. Never understand my background. So this whole fiasco was probably a blessing in disguise. End it now, before he discovered how different I really was from him.
    With my head still pounding, I drew a bath. Sinking into the near-scalding water, I curled my knees into my chest. As I rocked, I sobbed and sobbed.

14
    O nly a handful of people sat in the Orlando City Council chambers when I arrived Monday morning. The meeting was scheduled to begin in a few minutes, and I settled into a hard, wooden chair near the front and center, allowing the oppressive silence to surround me.
    This was surely an exercise in futility. I was the only one of our group of business owners to attend because everyone else had to staff their stores and couldn’t afford to close. So I’d been nominated as the spokesperson. It had been a day and a half since my disastrous night with Caleb, and I’d tried to piece myself together, although I still felt the painful throb of a hangover. I wore a conservative gray dress and black heels, and my normally loose, wild hair was scraped back into a bun. I’d even worn my black-rimmed glasses instead of my contacts, hoping I looked serious and bookish.
    The meeting started with some formalities, and I arranged my notes in a file folder. When I looked up, I caught a glint of gray in the corner of my eye.
    It was a suit-clad Caleb, flanked by two lawyerly-looking men. We locked eyes, and I shot him a hard stare, then glared at the papers in my lap. Why was he here? I bit the inside of my cheek, my anger and despair growing by the second. I shuffled my notes and clicked my pen.
    “Is this seat taken?” I glanced to my side and Caleb slid next to me.
    I said nothing and stared straight ahead. The council began the meeting and ran through some boring details. Caleb leaned into me, and I tried to hold my breath because I didn’t want to be seduced by his scent.
    “We need to talk.”
    I refused to acknowledge him. I sipped a little breath through my mouth. Somehow I still smelled him and I whispered a curse.
    “Emma,” he hissed. “Stop ignoring me. I didn’t know we were handling that property. Jesus, I didn’t even know we’d bought it for future development.”
    Crossing my arms tight over my chest, I jerked my body to the side of my seat, away from him. My blood boiled with ire. Caleb now represented everything I hated about the alleged progress happening in my city.
    “Let’s open the floor to public comment. I believe we have a local business owner, Emma Price. She’s here to address the council.”
    Taking a deep breath, I walked to the microphone in the center