Ten Thousand Hours

by Ren Benton

  “It’s a work night. You either.”

  Griff caught enough of the sullen whisper to make him stiffen.

  Ivy turned him toward the door. She would explain again to Blake that what she did when she left the house was different from what Holly did — no drugs, no alcohol, no violence — and explain again and again and again until he trusted her to be present and sober and keep her word. She wasn’t going to reprimand him for having his faith shattered, nor would she allow a man Blake had met twice to do so. “We don’t want to keep Rafferty waiting.”

  Griff remained tense as he escorted her to the car parked at the curb. “You look nice.”

  Nice. Oh, how far she’d fallen. “Thank you.”

  He hesitated over opening her door and raked his hand through his hair. “I know Blake is having a hard time, but if what he said upset you—”

  “It’s... okay.” She narrowly avoided using fine. Being told she looked nice by the man who used to call her a sex goddess hurt her feelings more than her nephew ever could. “We had an appointment with a counselor after school. He needs a ton of reassurance right now, and threatening him, as he perceives it, when he’s reacting against feeling insecure will only make matters worse. Yes, there need to be boundaries, but he won’t be receptive to them while I’m literally walking out on him.”

  “Do you want to stay home?”

  She’d considered that option all week. The counselor talked her out of it. “I’ve also been advised against reinforcing the insecurity by accommodating it at the expense of normalcy. Unless I intend to never be out of their sight again, they need me to leave and prove I’ll come back.”

  He lifted the handle and pulled open the door. “You’re having to learn a lot.”

  She slid into the passenger seat. “You don’t know the half of it.”

  He got behind the wheel and pulled away from the curb. “It’s a long drive. Tell me the rest.”

  Her warehouse of scintillating chitchat echoed from low inventory. Unless she wanted to ride in silence, she had little choice but to be a wet blanket. “Daycare says Cole is developmentally delayed and recommends starting the evaluation process the minute he’s on my insurance so he can receive occupational therapy before he falls too far behind to catch up for kindergarten.”

  “Isn’t that years away?”

  “They can’t just catch him up on the milestones he’s already missed. The ones in the future are dependent on the past foundation, so those will be delayed, too. A lot of gaps have to be closed. It can’t be done overnight, so the sooner he gets started, the better.”

  “Did you pay out of pocket for the counselor?”

  He’d picked up on the lack of active insurance. Being accident prone must make coverage more of a priority for him than most people. “There was no question of putting that off until they’re on my insurance, which won’t be until after I’m legally declared their guardian, and no one knows how long that might take.”

  She had enough money in her savings to cover a few counseling sessions but not thousands for Cole’s evaluation. His teacher gave her some exercises and a list of websites to get more information about ways to help him at home, but he would need intensive professional intervention to get back on track.

  Rita had promised to come to a decision about the management position next week. The stable paycheck and expanded benefits would be a huge relief.

  Tonight, however, she was failing at being a delightful conversationalist. Didn’t she have anything to say that wasn’t complaining? “The snapdragon you gave Lily was looking rough after a week in her room, so we planted it in the garden.”

  “If it doesn’t pull through, would it be wrong to sneak in a replacement?”

  She gasped in mock outrage. “No one could ever replace Rodney!”

  “Of course not. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  Her smile wilted before it fully bloomed. Didn’t she have anything to say that wasn’t related to the kids?

  No. Her every waking moment and all the dreams she remembered lately were consumed by children.

  When all else failed, a woman at a loss for words should encourage her date to talk about himself. “Have you seen your nephew yet?”

  She grimaced. Changing the subject to a different kid wasn’t much progress.

  “I did. He let me know how special I am to him by barfing on me.”

  “That says ‘special’ to you, huh?”

  “I wanted this to be a surprise, but my plan is to take you to the county fair, eat a bunch of corn dogs and cotton candy, and coax you onto the tilt-a-whirl to show you how much I care.”

  She laid a hand over her heart. “I... I don’t know what to say. This is so sudden.”

  “Your expression says it all, baby.” He raised her hand to his lips and feigned using it to wipe his mouth and chin.

  Laughter spilled out, and she felt lighter. She needed one thing in her life that wasn’t deadly serious as much as she needed physical contact.

  He would be the perfect man for her — if only he could forget she was Boring Old Ivy.

  The weight rushed back to settle over her.

  The billionaire’s favorite restaurant was a Tudor lodge-themed steak joint called the Common House. Iron chandeliers hung from dark timbers. At the far end of the dining room, a fireplace large enough to roast a whole moose glowed with hundreds of tea candles that someone must have had to replenish hourly.

  Mitch Rafferty sat at a table with his wife, June, and another woman Griff had not expected to see tonight.

  Ivy heard his muffled curse and followed his gaze. “Old flame?”

  “Sister-in-law. Which means my brother is—”

  “Dying to meet your escort.” Dan ambushed from the rear, slamming a hand against Griff’s shoulder hard enough to stagger him. The leer he aimed at Ivy echoed his choice of the word escort. “Glad you could make it. Are your kids spending the evening with their fathers?”

  Tension snaked through Griff’s muscles. Before he could make good on his previous threat to relieve Dan of his teeth, Ivy smiled sweetly. “No. Is your wife’s baby spending the evening with his?”

  Griff caught his breath. She was under a lot of strain. She couldn’t take it out on the kids. She refused to share it with him. Dan might be the provocation that cracked the vault where she locked it away.

  God help him.

  Dan’s eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Her saccharine smile didn’t falter. “Weren’t you advocating for fathers staying home with their children? Since you came all this way to meet me instead, I took it to mean you’re not one, poor thing. If you gentlemen will excuse me, I’m going to beg an introduction to Mrs. Rafferty.”

  Griff watched her glide toward the table, propelled by the gentle swing of her hips. He seized Dan’s arm when he moved to follow her. “What are you doing here?”

  “Sarah mentioned you’ve exposed Rafferty to one of your women.”

  It had been ten years since a woman had been in Griff’s life long enough to be called his. He sometimes asked a woman to accompany him to a business function when he thought a pretty face and feminine energy would grease the wheels of commerce or when being the only solo male in attendance would be problematic. Dan didn’t care if they were internet models or electrical engineers or that not one of them had picked her nose at the table or eaten with her feet — they were all trash to him, by virtue of keeping company with Griff.

  When he never saw those women again, he could dismiss the scorn as his brother being an ass. When directed toward the woman he was desperately trying to keep in his life, Dan’s animosity became a threat warranting a response. “Exposed as in a virus, or exposed as in flashing? I assure you, neither is the case.”

  “Your dick can’t be trusted to make that decision. I’m here to prevent your bad judgment from blowing this deal.”

  “Ivy is the antithesis of bad judgment.”

  “She’s not leavi
ng my sight until I see proof.”

  Short of wrestling Dan to the ground, there was nothing Griff could do to prevent him from shaking off the grip and walking away.

  He should have introduced Ivy to his family in a controlled, private environment, but he’d been a coward, and now he was going to end up punching his brother in front of Mitch Rafferty to defend her honor, which meant more to him than a multimillion-dollar contract.

  Sorry, Dad.

  When he reached the table, Sarah and Ivy were bent over June Rafferty’s phone. “That’s a beautiful dress,” Sarah observed.

  “Timeless,” Ivy confirmed. “Designers are reproducing those lines now. Low-end interpretations run four thousand dollars.”

  June gave a soft hoot. “The real thing came from a department store and ran fifteen dollars.”

  Rafferty acknowledged Griff’s arrival with a nod. “I don’t see why Ashley can’t wear that one.”

  “Mitch,” June chided.

  “That’s a beautiful tradition for some brides,” Ivy supported the old man’s idea in a way that made it obvious she was about to tell him how wrong he was, “but to others, it’s more important to find a dress that expresses their individuality on the day they ceremonially begin a new life.”

  Dan swirled the water in his glass. “Are you angling for a new life, Ivy?”

  Sarah shot a dark look at him, while Ivy remained outwardly unaffected. “The one I have is quite angular enough, thanks.”

  “Would you like your old life to end?” Sarah asked her husband under her breath.

  Throughout the evening, Dan cut off Ivy at every opportunity, as if he expected the next word to come out of her mouth to be embarrassing. He jerked once, as if Sarah had stomped on his foot under the table, but he was so convinced he was in the right, not even his wife’s wrath could deter him.

  Ivy, throughout it all, remained unperturbed, untouchable. Dan was an amateur compared to the abuse Holly heaped on her.

  Abuse Ivy no doubt endured with the same implacable expression, the only defense available to her when her hands were tied by being rational and well behaved for the benefit of the kids — and now for the benefit of Griff’s business deal.

  While he, rusty knight that he was, hadn’t done a damn thing to defend her from a situation she wouldn’t be in if not for him.

  She laughed at something Sarah said. Dan opened his mouth, and Griff’s anger surged, fueled by his self-loathing for failing her. He gripped the edge of the table. “Daniel.”

  Before he could grab his brother by the necktie and shake him like a rat, Ivy rose from her seat. “I need to speak to you privately.”

  Griff was on his feet ready to follow her anywhere and beg her forgiveness before he realized she’d addressed the invitation to his brother. He and Sarah shared a startled glance as Ivy left the table. After a tense moment, Dan excused himself and followed her.

  Rafferty raised his glass. “I wish that girl was wearing a wire.”

  Ivy couldn’t say which was more painful to watch: Griff’s struggle to not reach across the table and tenderize his douchebag brother’s face because he didn’t want to make a bad impression on Mr. Rafferty, or Mr. Rafferty getting a bad impression of Clan Dunleavy because the heir apparent was a douchebag.

  She felt responsible, since Dan’s douchebaggery seemed to be provoked by her presence, so it fell to her to redirect him like a misbehaving child.

  Unlike a misbehaving child, he didn’t have the sense to know being removed from the dinner table meant his turn to speak had ended. He followed her into the hallway leading to the restrooms. “If you expect an apology—”

  She whirled on him. “I expect that at a business function, a grown man would comport himself with a modicum of professionalism.”

  He retreated a step, either repelled by her venom or startled at her correct use of polysyllabic words.

  Frankly, she didn’t care what he thought of her, but shutting his mouth was a step in the right direction. “Rafferty grew up in a Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire world where ladies were ladies and gentlemen were gentlemen, and he has the means to force the world in which he lives and works today to conform to his standards. Every time you open that rude hole in your face, it reflects poorly on your family and the company your family represents, and your chances of being part of his world diminish.”

  She stepped toward him, claiming the ground he’d ceded. “Right now, the only thing you have in your favor is that he likes Griffin, so shut up and let him do his job, or expect to see me walk into the next meeting that decides your future with Daddy’s company and testify that you’re the mastermind who blew a multimillion-dollar contract right out of the palm of your brother’s hand.” She puffed across her own to illustrate, then turned on her heel.

  She heard him take a breath. She did not want to hear anything he had to say. She turned back with her palm raised toward his face. “If you want to judge me for my sister’s actions, that’s fine. I’ve been dealing with that my whole life. But from this moment forward, be prepared to explain your share of the blame for your sibling’s actions. I’m sure Mr. Rafferty would be very interested in your involvement in the incident with the donkey that ended in a Mexican jail.”

  Dan jerked back. “Donkey?”

  She cringed inwardly for blabbing a secret Griff had successfully hidden until now. With any luck, it was so outrageous, Dan would think she was bluffing, but she refused to back down now. “Test me one more time at that table and I’ll tell you and the Raffertys all the gory details and watch you scramble to cover your sensible, responsible, inoffensive ass.”

  It was an idle threat, since she didn’t know any of the gory details and wouldn’t further harm Griff’s chances of closing the deal if she did know, but it was a satisfying parting shot as she turned once more and stalked back to the table.

  Her legs wobbled as Griff stood to welcome her back to her seat. He had relied on her to be sensible, responsible, and inoffensive, and she had just told his brother-boss to shut his rude hole.

  He helped her collapse gently into her chair, murmuring against her ear, “Are you all right?”

  She smiled for the benefit of the nice elderly couple seated across from her. She wasn’t used to feeling like she came out of confrontations with the upper hand. It was like having one too many glasses of wine — lightheaded, nauseated, and knowing she’d regret it in the morning. “I’m just peachy,” she said through her teeth. “Things will be much better or much, much worse now.”

  His laugh was just a breath against her neck. “Worth it either way to see him look like he’s coming back from the principal’s office.”

  Dan appeared composed as he returned to the table, but Griff knew him better and could detect subtle variations in his douchebag expressions. He turned to Rafferty. “I apologize for my behavior.”

  The old man lowered his eyebrows. “Ivy is the one who deserves an apology.”

  The douchebag looked at her as if about to choke on his tongue.

  “It’s fine,” she said before he spoke to her. She didn’t want the fake apology he would grudgingly extend to the mongrel his brother had brought to dinner. “June, what were you saying about your rose garden?”

  The meal proceeded pleasantly, if not productively from a business standpoint, after Ivy disciplined Dan.

  Sarah nodded at Griff and fanned herself at one point to confirm that, yes, it had been as hot as advertised.

  Dan grabbed the check. The billionaire let him.

  The ladies went ahead, engrossed in a discussion of the relative merits of the cameras on their respective phones.

  Griff left their waitress a generous tip so his brother wouldn’t use her as a cost control. He caught Rafferty counting the bills on the table, calculating the excess, and gave a mental shrug. If it reflected poorly on the company that he overpaid for good service, so be it. Rafferty’s own credo was that happy workers worked harder. If he wanted to be a hypocrite about how hi
s potential business associates allocated funds, Griff was the wrong person to try to reel him in. At tomorrow’s morning meeting, he’d turn the account over to Amanda, Dunleavy Consulting’s resident Scrooge, to see if thriftiness was the way to the man’s heart.

  Griff sure as hell wasn’t making any progress.

  He was seriously reconsidering his line of work when Rafferty pounded him on the arm and clasped his hand. “Draw up the contract. My lawyers will come by tomorrow afternoon and tear it to shreds, but we might as well get the process started. Are you feeling all right, son?”

  Apart from his slack jaw, he was... just peachy. “I’m stunned. I’ve been working all week on a new and improved pitch.”

  “Ah, hell, I knew what you’re offering by the end of our first meeting. I needed to know who you’re offering. Your brother’s a bit of a tit, but I like the rest of your people. We’ll work well together.”

  “We will, sir. I look forward to being shredded tomorrow.”

  Griff remained rooted in place so long after Rafferty followed the ladies, Dan came to stand at his elbow. “Did he just say he’s on board?”

  “Yes, he did.”

  “Did he call me a tit?”

  The wonder in Griff’s voice turned hard. “Yes, he did.”

  Dan had the grace to look abashed. “Ivy read him like a book. What does she do?”

  She excelled at being wonderful. Dan didn’t deserve more of her at the moment. “She puts people in coffins.”

  “I should have guessed. Keep her away from Mom.”

  Tension coiled through Griff’s muscles. Ivy had saved their asses, and Dan still didn’t consider her good enough for family?

  Oblivious to the storm brewing behind him, Dan settled his jacket across his shoulders. “It’s bad enough delivering her gifts knowing they’re dildos. I’d rather not break my back hauling coffins if she gets a supplier, and I doubt the recipients would survive the joke. Can you imagine? ‘Seasons greetings, Mrs. Berkowitz. I’m sure you’ll find a good use for this casket.’”