Vote Then Read: Volume II

by Lauren Blakely

  And that was totally her fault.

  He never knew what she might say, but he couldn’t believe she’d suggested people attend their engagement party naked. “Clothing optional?”

  She shrugged.

  Troy should have expected her to say something like that. He focused on the road ahead. “Don’t you think that was a bit extreme?”

  “Extreme is the only thing that works with my family.”

  “You like to shock them.”

  She didn’t deny it.

  He continued. “Your mother and Emily looked like they were going to faint.”

  “They aren’t the fainting types,” Cassie said without missing a beat. “Besides, I had to say something. My mother was so fired up about us registering. She would have our wedding invitations picked out, printed, addressed, and in the mail if we hadn’t left when we did.”

  “Things were getting out of hand, but you’re exaggerating now.”

  “Not at all. And if you can’t see it, you need to stop being blinded by what our fake engagement can do for your career.”

  Maybe music would settle her down. Troy plugged in his cell phone. The jazzy strains of a saxophone solo didn’t lessen his stress.

  “I’m not blinded,” he said.

  “Then how can you not see that this has turned into a huge mess?”

  “It’s not that bad.”

  She shivered. “I don’t want to register for wedding presents.”

  “I’ll come with you.” He didn’t want to go either, but he couldn’t leave Cassie to do this on her own. Not when she sounded so horrified at the thought of registering. “What night are you going?”

  “Wednesday night. But I don’t want you to come. It’ll be easier without you.”

  “Then I won’t go,” he said, relieved. At least he’d tried. “But the party—”

  “Will be a nightmare, too.” She rubbed her face as if she could wipe away what was happening. “Do you know why Emily is throwing this engagement party?”

  “To be nice?”

  “She’s setting us, well me, up for something. I don’t know what, but I think she wants us to break up.”

  Let Emily try. “Did your sister tell you that?”

  “No, but you heard her remark to you, and how she wants to find me a dress. She’s telling you that I will be an unsuitable wife.”

  “You’re not unsuitable.” He thought about his words. “You’ll make someone a great wife.”

  Cassie laughed. “Someone is the key word. Someone who isn’t a rising star in the venture capital arena.”

  At least she understood how he felt and wasn’t upset. She rejected the world he was struggling so hard to make a life in. He could see her being satisfied with the life his parents lived. The hard work would appeal to Cassie. So would the land and quiet. He had a feeling she would fit into his family better—clothing-optional comment aside—than he fit in to hers. Not that he was going back to Missouri. He’d given up so much to reach his dreams, and he needed Cassie to stick this out a little longer, but how? Maybe she just needed the right encouragement

  “Do you hate the business that much?” he asked.

  “Yes. Our engagement party will be the epitome of all that is wrong with that world. Trust me. I’ve been through this before.”

  Had Eric taken her to parties? Perhaps Dixon? Troy tried to picture her among the fancy appetizers and free-flowing wine and champagne, but he couldn’t. She didn’t fit in with the social-climbing crowd. She would be out of place and have nothing in common with the spouses and dates in attendance. “Have you been to enough parties to know for sure?”

  “I used to work for Richardson and Scott.”

  Troy’s mouth gaped. Richardson and Scott was one of the largest and most prestigious investment banking firms in the country. Cassie, with her flowing skirts, oversize shirts, and sweaters, had worked at the traditional firm? He couldn’t picture it.

  “What did you do?” Troy asked.

  “I was a research analyst.” By the tone of her voice, he would have thought she was a member of a firing squad. “Computer software, and I also did a stint in M & A.”

  His spontaneous, rule-breaking, tattooed Cassie had been a research analyst and worked in mergers and acquisitions? Troy wondered if she had an MBA. “Why aren’t you still working there?”

  “I didn’t like it.”

  “But it’s a great company. The compensation makes up for the long hours.”

  He caught her shrug from the corner of his eye.

  “I still didn’t like it,” she said.

  Richardson and Scott had a solid mentor program. She must have been out of her mind to quit. Unless she’d been fired. “Why?”

  “I hated getting up early. I hated working late, especially during reporting season. I hated office politics.” Cassie grimaced. “I also hated wearing suits.”

  Suits? She gave up a tremendous career because of the clothes she was supposed to wear?

  That made no sense to him. “You were burned out. Why didn’t you just take a leave of absence?”

  “I did.” She gave a satisfied smile. “I took a permanent leave of absence.”

  “But—”

  “You don’t get it, do you?” Cassie bit her lip. “It wasn’t only the job. The entire investment industry made me miserable. I never smiled. I would stare at the mirror and not recognize myself. My priorities got screwed up, and I lost sight of who I was inside. I started having anxiety attacks. It was awful.”

  “But you must have had everything you ever wanted.”

  “Oh, I had a great flat in the Marina, designer clothes, and a German-built convertible. I made lots of money, but when you’re working eighty hours a week and unhappy, what good is it? I realized being wealthy wasn’t as important as I thought it was.”

  But money was important. If Cassie had grown up as he had, struggling to make ends meet every month, every day, she’d think differently. “That’s easy to say and do when you have your father to fall back on.”

  “I have never fallen back on my father.” Anger flared in her eyes. “Do you think my daddy sends me a check every month?”

  “I don’t know what to think.”

  “I own a bookstore. I used the money I saved when I worked for Richardson and Scott, liquidated my investments, sold my car, and borrowed the rest. From a bank, not my dad.” Cassie wrinkled her nose. “At least those long hours got me something worthwhile.”

  Her words surprised Troy. She didn’t seem like the kind of person to devote the time needed to make a business successful. “What about the gas money?”

  “I save the money my father gives me. I use it to buy him gift certificates for rounds of golf at his favorite courses. Has your curiosity been appeased?”

  “Yes.” Troy had upset her. He’d made the wrong assumptions about her. “I shouldn’t have assumed—”

  “Why is money so important to you?”

  “You wouldn’t understand.”

  “Try me.”

  She wanted to know, but he still hesitated. “You grew up with the proverbial silver spoon. Not me. I was raised on a farm where my parents struggled to put food on the table and to dress us in clothes that fit.” Troy rolled his shoulders. “We never had extra money.”

  “Kids always think there’s never enough money.”

  “Did you?”

  “No, but—”

  “One Christmas, we were having a really rough time. Rain had damaged the crops that fall. My father had broken his leg. There wasn’t enough money for presents. My mother and I stayed up all night on Christmas Eve. We baked cookies and made candies so my brothers and sisters would have something in their stockings on Christmas morning.” Troy gripped the steering wheel. He would never forget the dark circles and bags under his mother’s eyes or the expression—one of embarrassment and desperation—on his father’s face. “That Christmas, I decided I would never struggle like my parents. I wanted to be able to provide for m
y family, put food on the table, and have presents under the Christmas tree.”

  “How old were you?” Cassie asked.

  “Twelve.”

  “Were you happy?”

  “Yes, but that was before I realized how much my parents worked just to make ends meet and still were one bad weather forecast from bankruptcy,” he said. “I know it’s hard for you to understand, Cassie. But please don’t romanticize my upbringing. Being poor and being happy do not go hand in hand.”

  She stared out the window. “Neither does being rich and being happy.”

  10

  Tuesday night in his apartment, Troy disconnected from his call with Vanessa Daniels. Not good. He dragged his hand across his face. The woman wouldn’t take no for an answer. She wanted him to be at the store with Cassie to register for wedding gifts. Nothing he said would dissuade her.

  He blew out a breath and then plopped onto the couch.

  Cassie wasn’t going to be happy. He’d better tell her the news now so she had time to cool down by tomorrow night. Besides, this gave him a reason to call her. Something he’d wanted to do since he dropped her off on Sunday night but had been putting off because he didn’t understand the pull she had on him.

  Being with her drove him crazy, but being away from her made him feel on edge. He couldn’t win.

  Might as well get this over with. Troy texted her.

  No reply.

  Not that he expected her to get back to him right away. He wasn’t her real fiancé. He turned on the sports channel. During commercial breaks, he checked his phone. Still no reply.

  An hour passed, and then another.

  That was weird. She usually would have gotten back to him by now. Maybe she’d turned off her notifications. He called her.

  The phone rang four times before going to voicemail. “Hi, you’ve reached Cassandra. At the beep, you know what to do.”

  “Hi, Cassie. This is Troy, Troy McKnight. Your mother called. Before I knew what was happening, I got roped into registering with you tomorrow night. Give me a call.”

  Troy hung up the phone. He brushed his hand through his hair, hoping he didn’t sound as stupid as he thought he did.

  He glanced at the time on his phone. Nine o’clock.

  Was she still at work? On the phone?

  At eleven o’clock, Troy hadn’t heard back. He got worried. Surely her bookstore didn’t stay open that late. Had she gone out with friends or on a date?

  Troy clenched his hands. He didn’t like the idea of Cassie with another man. He willed his cell phone to ring or buzz.

  Nothing.

  He grabbed the remote and scrolled through the channels. Hundreds of shows were on, but not one caught his attention. All he wanted was to hear from Cassie.

  By midnight, Troy was pacing his apartment. Forget working or sleep. His bunched muscles seemed to be getting tighter. Maybe a hot shower would help. He would be able to hear the phone ring. His muscles were going to need a hot shower or massage to relax. First, he’d tried her again.

  This time, the call went straight to voicemail.

  Was her battery dead? That was the best scenario. She could have forgotten to charge her phone. That seemed the most likely scenario, but how come she hadn’t answered or replied earlier? What if something had happened to her? An accident or—

  His gut tightened, but he realized the way he felt could be worse. A lot worse. Imagine what he’d be going through if Cassie were his real fiancée…

  ♥ ♥ ♥

  The next morning, Cassandra entered her apartment. She moved slowly, a combination of tiredness and soreness. She hadn’t meant to work so late at the bookstore, but so much work needed to be done. Work she couldn’t do with customers in the store. Work that kept her from sitting at home and daydreaming about Troy.

  Yeah, keeping busy was good even if she would be paying the price today. She dropped her backpack on the floor and bent over to unlace her black boots.

  Ouch.

  A sharp pain shot up her spine. The result of sleeping on a hard floor last night. She gave a quick rub to the sore spot, removed her boots, and then plugged in her dead cell phone.

  Yawning, Cassandra shuffled her way across the hardwood floor toward the kitchen. Dust clung to her socks. She needed to clean her apartment, but that would have to wait. She needed water, a shower, and sleep. In that order. Everything else could wait until she wasn’t feeling like a zombie.

  She downed a glass of water. She would grab a shower and then…

  Her phone beeped and buzzed. She debated ignoring the texts and voice messages, but what if something was wrong at the bookstore since she left? Moe could handle things, but he was good about keeping her informed. Sleep could wait a couple of minutes. She scrolled through the notifications.

  Huh? Troy had texted her more than once. She had also missed calls from him and her mom. Voice messages, too. Cassandra played one from her mom.

  “Hi, Cassandra,” her mother said cheerfully. “I never heard if Troy’s available to register with us, so I’m going to call him and see since you’re not answering. That way, we can make arrangements. Who knows? Maybe I’ll find you with Troy. Otherwise, I’ll see you tomorrow at the store. Seven o’clock. Don’t be late.”

  Cassandra groaned. She did not need her mother watching her and Troy select a china pattern and other wedding presents they didn’t want or need. Doing so with Eric had been uncomfortable enough because she hadn’t wanted friends and family to spend money on them, but Eric had insisted on picking stuff they didn’t need. She would have rather had people donate to a charity in their name.

  Maybe Troy had nixed her mother’s idea. Please let him have said no. Cassandra was too tired to think about registering for wedding presents or the engagement party or her soon-to-be ex-fiancé.

  Cassandra rubbed her tired eyes and hit play on the message from Troy. “Hi, Cassie. This is Troy, Troy McKnight. Your mother called. Before I knew what was happening, I got roped into registering with you tomorrow night. Give me a call.”

  Roped in? No way. Cassandra’s shoulders sagged. He probably said yes without putting up a fight.

  Darn the man.

  Lifting her arms toward the ceiling, she stretched.

  Oh, boy, her back hurt.

  She needed to buy a couch or futon for the back room. No more sleeping on the floor.

  Better get going. A shower and nap were waiting. She had to be at the store by noon, but given the number of texts Troy had sent, she’d better call him. She touched his number.

  “Cassie?”

  Weird. She hadn’t heard the phone ring. But the way he said her name made her feel warm and tingling. Tiredness. That was why.

  “Yes,” she said. “I got your messages. My phone died last night.”

  “That’s good.” Funny, but he sounded relieved. “I mean, not about your phone. It’s good to hear from you. I was wondering what was going on.”

  Something clicked in her brain. “Were you worried?”

  “A little…concerned.”

  His words touched her heart but also made her wonder if he was more concerned because of what being her fiancé was doing for him. The thought made her feel heavy all over. “I, uh, need to keep a phone charger in my purse or at the store.”

  “I probably have an extra one if you want it.”

  “That’s sweet of you to offer, but I’m sure there are a couple here somewhere.”

  Silence filled the line.

  “Look at the time,” Troy said. “Isn’t it a little early for you to be up?”

  “I just got home.”

  “You. Just. Got. Home?”

  “Uh-huh.” She yawned again. “Are you at work?”

  He cleared his throat. “I have a breakfast meeting in fifteen minutes.”

  She stretched her neck. Her back seized with pain. “Ow.”

  “Are you okay, Cassie?”

  “I’m tired, and my back is killing me.” She yawned once more
. Forget the shower. She would take one after her nap. Crawling into her comfortable, warm bed would feel so good. It would be nicer if Troy were there to hold her while she slept.

  Uh-oh. She must be exhausted to think like that. Yeah, that was the reason.

  “I didn’t get much sleep last night,” she added, as much for her benefit as his. “I’m going to bed as soon as I hang up the phone.”

  Silence.

  “Troy?” She didn’t know why he was being so quiet. Had they been disconnected? She glanced at the screen, but the call was still going. “Are you there?”

  “I’m here,” he said finally. His voice sounded different—terse…harder.

  Cassandra shrugged. A knife-edged pain shot through her spine. She didn’t know what his problem was, nor did she care right now. “You don’t have to come tonight.”

  Selecting dishes, appliances, and bedding with Troy would be too couple-like and intimate. The line between fact and fiction was blurring. At least in her mind. Registering wouldn’t help. Best to keep her distance.

  “Don’t you think doing this together will be, uh, awkward?” she asked when he still hadn’t responded.

  “Yes, but your mother thought I should come.”

  Cassandra rolled her eyes. “You’re turning into the dutiful son-in-law.”

  “I don’t have a choice.”

  Yes, he did. But Troy wasn’t coming to please Cassandra. Ambition was a powerful motivator. She couldn’t forget that.

  “I’ll pick you up at your bookstore and drive you to Union Square,” he continued with an edge to his tone. “What’s the name of your place?”

  Her heavy eyelids drooped, so she forced them open. “Cassandra’s Attic.”

  “I’ll be there at six-thirty.”

  “Okay.” She stifled another yawn. She didn’t want to think about seeing Troy. A couple of hours of uninterrupted sleep was all she wanted.

  “And thanks,” he said. “I know this isn’t easy for you, either.”

  Black spots appeared before her eyes. She had to get some sleep. Maybe she wouldn’t dream about Troy. “I’ll see you tonight.”