Not You It's Me (Boston Love #1) - Julie Johnson Page 0,34
tell Gemma she’s hot.”
He turns to his wife. “I don’t think Gemma needs me to tell her she’s hot.”
I shake my head to confirm this.
“MARK!” Chrissy’s face is turning red and her voice is getting loud. “A year ago, I pushed your watermelon-sized baby out of my vagina. In another month, I’m going to do it all over again. So, goddammit, just TELL GEMMA SHE’S HOT!”
Mark chuckles, totally undisturbed by his wife’s outburst. When his eyes move to mine, they’re full of good humor. “Gemma, babe…. you’re hot-shit.”
I grin. “Thanks.”
“And I’m not just saying that because I was coerced by my formerly hot-shit, now totally bat-shit wife.”
My grin gets wider.
Chrissy glares at Mark.
Shelby turns to me. “Well, I for one think it’s too soon to judge.”
“What?” I ask.
“What?” Mark growls.
Shelby shrugs. “Well, everyone knows the Crofts are, like, the Kennedys, the Vanderbilts, and the Wests combined.”
I tense at her mention of some of New England’s most prominent families.
“They’re American royalty. They’ve got it all — wealth, notoriety, and a stake in every viable economic pool, whether it’s acquiring tech companies or funding startups or owning sports teams. They built their family dynasty from the ground up, essentially achieved world domination with Croft Industries, and somehow stayed on top of the international business world for over fifty years… until five years ago, when there was some big rift in the family. No one really knows what happened for sure, but after that, Chase disappeared. Now, suddenly he’s back, and it’s rumored he’s taking over Croft Industries as CEO. Gemma basically just confirmed that when she told us he’s completely redesigning the office space in his taste.”
“So?” Chrissy asks, impatient as ever. “Why does this matter?”
“Well, maybe it doesn’t.” Shelby sighs. “But you know how Paul works in finance?”
We all nod — Shelby’s husband Paul is almost always working, and hardly a day goes by without her moaning about the demands of the financial world and his long hours away from her.
“Apparently the guys at his office were talking about Croft coming back to town, and everyone was really surprised that the company is passing to Chase, who’s apparently something like the family black sheep, instead of his cousin, Brett. See, Jameson Croft — Brett’s father, Chase’s uncle — was the previous CEO, and I guess it was always expected he’d hand over the reins to his son when he was ready to retire… but nobody thought that would be anytime soon. Jameson himself only took control of the company about ten years ago.”
“Weird,” Chrissy whispers.
“Anyway, around the time Chase left, everything changed,” Shelby continues. “Company stock plummeted. Rumors circulated about mergers, bankruptcy, you name it. The family never confirmed or denied any of it, though. They never even made a statement about it.”
“Yeah.” Mark is nodding. “Now that you mention it, I remember hearing something about all this.”
“Paul told me there’s a lot of bad blood between Chase and his cousin.” Shelby shrugs. “So, all I’m saying is, maybe he wasn’t pushing Gemma away to be an asshole. Maybe he’s just dealing with a lot of shit right now, and doesn’t want to drag her into the middle of it, considering how crazy everyone already is over him coming back to town, then the big playoff game kiss incident…”
Chrissy’s face is contemplative. “Plus, I’m sure the Crofts have some pretty serious skeletons in their closets — the last thing that family needs is to be under a media microscope. Think about it, Gem… if your relatives make the Borgias look friendly, would you want to bring someone else into that?”
I’m silent for a moment, thinking back to this afternoon. Green eyes flash in my mind, and I hear his voice, rumbling in my direction like a train barreling down the tracks.
I thought if I made this about business, it would be easier.
It’s not.
I just got back to town.
I have certain… obligations.
I can’t afford to be distracted.
He’d told me — granted in his cryptic, close-mouthed, controlling way — that he had things in his life he needed to sort out. I just hadn’t been in the mood to listen, too insulted at being called a distraction to hear him out or give him the benefit of the doubt. And, if I’m honest with myself, too hurt and insecure at the idea that he’d never look at me the way I looked at him to stand there for another minute.
My cheeks heat with embarrassment. “Am I an idiot?” I ask quietly, causing all