Page 64 of Gold Rush

My dad calls while I’m logging off my computer. I ignore it, like usual, except he calls again, immediately.

I exhale a long sigh, glancing around the other cubicles to confirm the office is, in fact, empty, then answer. “What?”

“That’s not a very professional way to answer the phone, Flynn.”

“If you don’t want to talk to me, stop calling, Dad.”

A pause. I’m not normally this antagonistic at the start of our conversations, but it’s been a long fucking day. I’m hungry, and I’m tired, and I’m in no mood to deal with my father’s criticism.

“You’re dating Rory Kensington.”

His recent attempts to reach me make sudden sense. He must have talked to someone who had seen us at Atlantic Crest last weekend.

“I told you I was,” I remind him.

Julian clears his throat. “You say a lot of things.”

“Is that why you’re calling? To tell me you know something I already told you?”

“I’m calling to invite you both to dinner. Your mother and I would like to meet her.”

“You’ve met her.”

“Don’t be difficult, Flynn. Unless she’s another passing phase for you?”

I grit my teeth at the thinly veiled reference to the lack of longevity in my previous relationships.

The foundation, I remind myself. You’re doing this for Penn.

“She’s not.”

“Good. We’ll see you Saturday. Seven p.m. Don’t be late.”

Julian ends the call first, stealing my satisfaction of getting to hang up on him.

I toss my phone on the desk and rake my hands through my hair, scowling. This is a necessary step toward the goal of getting my inheritance. I have no doubt Rory will charm my parents. They’ll be thrilled when we get engaged and blame me when it falls apart. But we spent last weekend faking it for her family and half of the Hamptons. I’m dreading this dinner already, especially since I’ve sort of been avoiding Rory since she found out about me hitting Carson. I was expecting a lecture, and instead, she thanked me. She was clearly shocked by my defending her, which I’m a little offended by. I’ve never taken it to that extreme, but I’ve always defended her.

Also, there was the full minute she gaped at my dick, which did absolutely nothing to extinguish the sexual tension in the apartment. So, yeah, putting on a show for my parents wasn’t on my priority list.

I shut off the computer, clean up my desk a little, then head for the elevators. As I walk, I order takeout on my phone. I don’t have the energy to cook dinner tonight. I opt for pizza, figuring it’ll be fastest, making sure to note a peanut allergy before submitting the order to Rino’s.

Twenty minutes later, I enter the apartment, carrying two steaming boxes. “Hey, I—” I stop short, halfway to the kitchen island. “What is that?”

Rory looks up from the living room rug, where she’s sitting cross-legged next to what looks like a large ball of lint. “I adopted a cat.”

“Uh, why?” I deposit the pizzas on the counter and approach cautiously.

“He needed a home. I was walking back from work, and a local shelter was having an event in DeLury Square, so I … I adopted him.” She meets my gaze. A hint of panic appears in hers before she glances at the pile of gray fluff again. “I bought everything they said to, but he hasn’t eaten or played or even used the litter box. When I try to pet him, he hisses.”

I know very little about cats. But the ones I’ve seen have sleek, smooth fur, so I have to ask, “Why does it look … electrocuted?”

“It’s static,” she says defensively. “I’m going to give him a bath. I was waiting for you to get home.”

“Don’t cats hate water?”

“He smells, and I think it’ll help with his fur. They make cat shampoo.” She points at the pile of pet paraphernalia stacked beside the bookcase, her expression a little helpless.

I was distracted by the bath idea. The rest of what she said didn’t register right away.