He couldn’t believe she’d gone back to ignoring him.
Gray sat at his desk and fumed. Nearly two weeks had passed since their kiss in the parking lot, and he’d barely been able to catch her alone for a minute. So either she was having an extremely busy couple of weeks—and he could see her schedule, so he knew that wasn’t the case—or she was avoiding him. Again.
Irritated, he growled as his phone rang. He’d get her to pay attention to him. Somehow. Maybe Hunter was right, and things did come too easy to him. Well, he was paying for that now. Since there was nothing easy about Lacey.
But somehow, that didn’t make him want her any less.
“What?” he snarled into the phone.
“Well . . . is that any way to greet your mother?”
He winced at the sound of his mother’s cultured voice. Turning in his chair, he looked out the window, across the Dallas skyline.
“Sorry, Mother. I was expecting a call from someone else,” he lied smoothly. Normally, he couldn’t abide liars, but lately he found himself lying to his mother more and more. He wasn’t certain what exactly that said about his relationship with her.
“Who could you possibly be expecting a call from that you would greet so abominably?” she asked.
“Debt collector,” he said quickly then winced. Debt collector? Really?
“A debt collector?” she squeaked. “Are you in financial difficulty? Did Hunter gamble away all your money? I knew he was a gambler. Or is it alcohol? He looks like an alcoholic. I never did like him. You need to cut ties with him if he’s gambling and drinking. I’ll get the family lawyers onto it.”
She would do it too.
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“Mother,” he said.
“I always told you it was a bad idea to get involved with that man. He’s so rude and obnoxious. I knew he’d end up taking you for a ride. You should really listen to your mother. Don’t worry, though. I’ll get the debt collector paid off. I’m not sure you’ll get any money out of that man, though. He looks like he doesn’t have two cents to rub together. Why, last time I saw him there was a hole in his shirt.”
Gray closed his eyes, feeling a headache forming.
“Mother, it was a joke.”
“What?”
“It was a joke. There is no debt collector. And Hunter is neither an alcoholic nor a gambler.” To say that his mother and Hunter didn’t get along was putting it mildly.
“Well, that wasn’t a very funny joke, dear. I think working with that rude man has marred your sense of humor. You do know that debt collection is a very real problem for some people.”
“Yes, Mother, I know.” Gray suddenly felt like he was five again, being scolded for spilling ice cream down the front of his shirt.
“Why, the Hennesseys got their Mercedes repossessed the other day. And I hear the debt collectors are chasing them now. Apparently, they owe millions in taxes. Terrible, isn’t it, how the government can come after hard-working Americans that way?”
Yes, so terrible. Tom Hennessy had made billions in pharmaceuticals but had decided he was above paying taxes. But of course, the government were the ones in the wrong. His mother lived a life of privilege and wealth and gossip. She’d never worked a day in her life. She’d hired nannies and cooks to take care of him and his sisters when they were young. It hadn’t been until they were older she’d started to take an interest in their lives.
He’d almost preferred it when she was indifferent to his welfare. He let her continue to talk about the unfortunate plight of the Hennesseys, knowing interrupting her was counterproductive and would generally end with him apologizing and having to listen to another speech on his manners, his upbringing, and the way his actions reflected on her as a parent. He didn’t see why what he did would reflect on her considering she hadn’t raised him. But, hey, he’d learned that keeping his mouth shut was the easiest way of gaining some peace.
“Gray? Gray? Are you listening to me? I’m speaking to you.”
“Yes, I’m here,” he said tiredly. That headache was getting worse.
“Anyone would think you didn’t want to talk to your mother,” she said, sounding irritated.
He should point out that he was at work and didn’t have time to listen to her prattle on about her shallow friends and their equally shallow problems. But instead, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“What is it I can help you with, Mother?” he asked.
“What?”