Page 29 of The Merger

Clearly, Gannon does since he’s a Tapo’s regular.

I grin.What a strange, sexy man.

His smirk slides through my memory, and I can almost feel the weight of his palm on my back.

“It was worth it,” I say, grabbing my purse. “Even if all I got out of it was some fantasy material for later.”

Chapter Seven

Gannon

“Eight.”Clunk.“Nine.”Clunk.“Ten,” I say, groaning as I set the dumbbells on the rack.

I grab a towel and wipe the sweat from my heated face. Despite running five miles and a solid workout with weights to expel some energy, I’m only slightly less exhausted than when I got here.Fuck.

“I need to be done with this,” I grumble, grabbing my water bottle and turning off the light. My footsteps echo down the hallway, my sneakers squeaking against the light-colored hardwood.

The evening light casts shadows through the windows as I enter the living space—the only room, aside from my office, gym, and bedroom that I use in the almost eight-thousand square-feet home. On the far end of the space is a family area. A large, half-circle sofa faces a fireplace with a frame television hanging above it. Across from it is an open kitchen with bright white quartz counters and a chef’s range large enough to prepare a meal for a small army.

When I purchased this house ten years ago, I had big plans. Six bedrooms. Nine bathrooms. Five rolling acres of beautiful Tennessee suburbia. It was the perfect canvas.

Yet I’ve barely changed it, and I can’t find it in me to give a fuck anymore.

I tug open the fridge, grab a meal prep container, and toss it on the counter. I retrieve a glass bottle of water that I filled this morning. As I close the door, my phone rings from the island.

“Who the hell is this?” I stare at the number, but it’s not familiar. I pick it up against my better judgment. “Hello?”

“Hi, Gannon. It’s Thomas Crenshaw. It’s good to hear your voice.”

I groan.Wish I could say the same.

Thomas and I graduated the same year from Waltham. We weren’t exactly close, but because our friend circles overlapped, we spent a lot of time together in various clubs. He was always … energetic.

“You are not an easy man to get ahold of,” he says.

“By design.”

He laughs as if I’m kidding.

“How did you get this number?” I ask before taking a quick sip of water.And why the hell are you calling me on a Saturday?

“I had to do some serious digging since your assistant refused to share it with me. Luckily for me, you donated to the new science building at Crenshaw two years ago and your phone number was in the contact information. It was a pain in the ass to find.”

I lean against the counter, the cool quartz biting into my hip, then glance at my phone.He’s already wasted two minutes of my time, which is two minutes too many.“What can I do for you?”

Thomas carries on about our old prep school and how he’s on the board of directors. His three kids attend there now.What does the guy want? A pat on the head?I half-listen and stroll through the kitchen into a breakfast nook—and then I stop.

The small room is bright and sunny, with three of the four walls consisting mostly of glass. A ledge runs between the bottom of the glass and the top of the brick. Perched in the middle of the table in the center of the room is, of all things,a plant.

Lots of stems and thick oval-shaped leaves are tucked into a small brown pot.

What the fuck?

“What about you, Gannon? Where do your kids go to school? I haven’t seen them around Waltham.”

My jaw clenches as I snap back to the conversation. “What can I do for you again?”

He sucks in a frustrated breath. “Okay, I’ll get to the point. We haven’t received your RSVP to the invitation to speak at the alumni banquet, and we hoped to get that squared away soon.”