His Under Contract - Page 17

“When did he tell you that? Why did he pay for your education if he said that?”

“He didn’t pay for me to go to Penn State or Harvard. My dad was one of eight kids born in Mobile, Alabama. Ask my dad though, and he won’t admit it. He never spoke about how he grew up. He joined the Army and never looked back, didn’t even keep in contact with his brothers and sisters. One of his brothers managed to squirm into our lives because he was a successful physician.

“When I went into juvie, my uncle was the only one to come to see me the whole year I was there. He promised that once I got out and went back to school, real school not getting a GED, he would pay for my schooling all the way up to a doctorate, if I wanted. As a bachelor without a wife or children, he could afford it. I worked my ass off to make him proud.”

“And you proved your dad wrong, too.”

“Yes. What about you? Why did it take you four years to get out of community college when your intelligence is clear?”

“My parents didn’t have much money. I paid my own way, working and going to school wasn’t easy. Then my mom messed up her back really badly. Since my parents couldn’t help me to pay for school, their concession was for me to live at home rent free. When she got hurt, I had to drop out to take care of her. God forbid my father actually cook his own breakfast or make a sandwich.”

“You didn’t apply to only a community college.” No way.

A blush highlights her high round cheekbones. “My mom made a big deal about me going far away. I got into Vanderbilt and Duke, close enough to please my mom, only neither of them came with scholarships. The problem was I couldn’t get loans. My mom has problems, she’s a shopaholic and wrecked their credit.

“It was fine, really. I didn’t, and embarrassingly still don’t know what I want to do with my life. To go to school without knowing what I wanted to do would have been a waste of money. I thought of maybe being a teacher, I like kids and wanted to work with them.”

“So, how did you end up a medical assistant?”

“Pretty much everyone I told about wanting to be a teacher went on and on about how poor the pay was, and how I would end up a babysitter with bratty kids. My mom urged me to go into the medical field because of the job opportunities, but I’m too squeamish to be a nurse. The community college pushed becoming a medical assistant, and how I could get into a doctor’s office or pediatric ward. Almost as soon as I started though, I didn’t like it. It took a while to admit it. I hoped maybe a change in city was the problem.”

“What made you pick Chicago? It’s a long way from Jacksonville.” She’s finally growing comfortable. Her beautiful eyes are seeing me instead of looking through me, as she has for the last few weeks. I’m growing hungrier for more of her like this.

“One of the women at the doctor’s office had moved recently from Chicago and waxed lyrical because she was homesick. Somehow, it niggled into my mind to come here. I got a job quickly, but it was just as bad, actually worse. The patients stacked to the brim with the doctors barely looking at them. One of the nurses there told me about the firm I was at recently. There were promises of big money with better hours, all lies. They couldn’t keep people; the husband got a bonus for every person who was hired.”

“If you could get paid to do anything all day long, what would you?” I’m curious.

She smiles wide, her eyes bright, “Read all day long.”

“No wonder you and Amelia get along. I remember her saying the same thing. From the time she was little she was always carrying a book. I understood; she came along when I was almost ten and away at boarding school. So, for many years we weren’t close, and it’s hard to make friends moving from base to base.”

“Sometimes books were the only friends I had. My brothers were close and I was the odd one out. When I was a kid, I tried to find all the jobs that would allow me to read all day. Only it became clear I couldn’t get hired as an editor by a publishing house with only a community college degree. Also, I needed to make money to get out of my parent’s home.”

“You did a great job hunting down the oddity in the bills.”

“That was actually pretty fun. There were a few tasks I liked to do at the investment firm that involved running numbers and making sure everything added up.” She seems surprised by her answer.

“An accounting degree would be easy to get online.” The idea of Holly spending her life cleaning doesn’t seem right.

“I don’t know, it’s a big commitment. I’m also not sure I want to spend my days under fluorescent lights running numbers.”

“You don’t have to work for a big firm, you could work for yourself. It’s a flexible degree, you can take clients on your own terms, and work the hours you want.”

Our food is brought out. We’re both quiet as we eat. It’s nice to see a woman actually eating a salad instead of pushing it around.

“That was good. Thank you.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed. It’s annoying to take a woman out only to watch them move the food around on the plate without eating.” Her plate is almost clean. The parmesan encrusted green beans were apparently a hit. “Dessert?”

“No, I’m good.”

“Come on, they have the best cheesecake in the city.” Her smile is there and gone. I catch the eye of the waiter. “A piece of cheesecake and two forks.”

“Do you always have to get your way?”

“Things are better for everyone when I do.”

Her laughter is light, fuck, my chest expands simply hearing it. I realize then, I haven’t heard it before. “I remember the first time Amelia complained about you. By the time she finished her long rant, she had me thinking she was exaggerating. Then I met you. Now I know she was being kind.”

Tags: Fiona Murphy Erotic
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