To My Arrogant Boss (The Inappropriate Bachelors #2) - J. S. Cooper Page 0,24

we lived. Right off of the 101.” She nodded. “It was a nice area. You could see the Hollywood sign in the distance.”

“Wow, you had a house in the Hollywood Hills?” I was surprised.

“No, we lived in a small apartment with bars on the window,” she elaborated. “Little Armenia is in Hollywood, but is definitely not the Hollywood Hills.” She laughed. “We lived on the top floor of a two-story building, and if you walked all the way to the right of the landing and you stood on tippy toes, you could see the Hollywood sign.”

“Oh, that’s quite different.” I chuckled. “So it was you and your parents?”

“Me and my parents and my older brother, Marco.” She shook her head. “We lived in a two-bedroom apartment up until I was twelve.”

“Oh wow, that must have been rough.”

“It wasn’t great.” She shrugged. “My brother acted like he was my second dad, so I couldn’t get away with anything.”

“What happened when you were twelve?”

“My parents bought a small house in Pasadena.” She smiled. “It was like heaven moving into my own room.”

“Oh, I bet. What do your parents do?”

“They run a restaurant.”

“Let me see if I can guess the cuisine,” I joked, and she laughed.

“I bet you can’t guess.”

“Italian, Chinese, Thai?” I winked at her and she laughed some more. “I love Mexican food.”

“Me too.”

“Do you ever cook it?”

“I cook all the time.”

“You should cook for me sometime,” I said without thinking, and we both just kind of looked at each other for a few seconds. “Well, if I didn’t think you would poison me.”

“Yeah, you would definitely have to worry about that.” We were silent for a few seconds as we continued walking. “What about you? Where did you grow up?”

“You’ll never guess.”

“I bet I can.” She rolled her eyes. “The Upper East Side in Manhattan?”

“No.” I shook my head.

“Upper West Side?”

“No.”

“Somewhere in Manhattan?”

“No.”

“No?” She looked surprised.

“Google doesn’t tell you everything about me, Jane.” I smiled.

“Where are you from?”

“South Carolina.”

“You’re from the South?”

“Born and raised.” I nodded. “I’m a good Southern gentleman.”

“Hmm, I find it hard to believe than anyone would call you a gentleman,” she scoffed, and I couldn’t stop myself from laughing.

“I grew up in Charleston. All men with a pedigree are gentlemen, I’ll have you know.” I declined to tell her that my granddaddy had been a senator in South Carolina and that the house I grew up in cost over two million dollars.

“If you say so.” She rolled her eyes, and my heart skipped as she looked me up and down. Well, maybe it wasn’t my heart that skipped. Maybe it was something else. And maybe it didn’t skip so much as twitch. “Oh wow, so then you moved north for school?”

“Yes, ma’am. I left when I was 18 to go to Harvard and never looked back.” I kept a smile on my face, but I could feel the tension in my stomach as I spoke. My father was still awaiting my return back home to take over the family business and continue the family name. As the only son of George Taft Howard, I was expected to marry well and eventually run for office. I had no interest in doing either.

“Oh wow, so you either really loved it on the East Coast or you hated it in the South.”

“I love my home.” I shook my head. “The East Coast just held different opportunities for me.”

“So your dad is really rich, huh?” She cocked her head at me, and I wondered what sort of questions she was going to ask. Just how much had she read up on me?

“He does all right for himself.” I nodded.

“He still lives in South Carolina?”

“My daddy, my mama, and my two sisters are all still there.” I nodded. “I go back and visit every now and then. In fact, I’m meant to go back home in a few weeks. My sister is having her engagement party.”

“Oh, wow.” Jane smiled. “That’s cool.”

“My daddy is furious.” I laughed.

“Oh no, why?”

“He’s not our type,” I said with a wry smile.

“What’s that mean?” Her lips thinned and she frowned. “He’s not white?”

“Oh, I don’t know what race he is.” I laughed. “All I know is that he’s a Democrat, and my dad is furious.”

“Do you call him your dad or your daddy?”

“Growing up we called him Daddy. I think it’s antiquated and weird for a man my age to be saying daddy.”

“Yeah.” She paused. “So are you a Republican as well, then?”

“Oh, Jane. Do you

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