Page 46 of The Path to Loving Him
“Clearly.” I drag my hands down my face, this conversation doing nothing for my mood.
“Can I just ask—in the meantime while I figure out this office thing—that you let her use your space?”
I shake my head in disbelief. “I can’t believe this. And when do I get to meet this new assistant of mine? I’ve been out on the field, working on it all by myself. Does she realize we have fall practice? Does she care to come out and help as well?”
“I can set up a meeting if that’s what you’d like,” Herbert says.
“I don’t know, Herbert, what do you think?”
His face falls flat. “You don’t have to be an ass, Rowley.”
“Well, help me out here, Herbert. Because . . . fuck.”
He tamps me down with his hand as he takes a peek at Mac. I know she can’t hear a thing, so I’m not worried. “I know. I know. I’ll set up a meeting. We’ll get this figured out.”
“Good,” I huff. “I’d like to at least see her qualifications before the school year starts and maybe introduce her to an infield rake.”
Herbert nods and makes a note on a piece of paper. “I’ll set something up. How is your Friday looking?”
“Free.”
“Then consider it done. Now, can you please attempt to calm down?”
I shake my head. “Not that easy.”
Chapter Nine
GABBY
Nathan:Haven’t heard from you in a while. Heard you moved away. Want to tell me what’s going on in your life?
Do I want to tell my ex, who I’ve eliminated from my life, what I’m up to now? Yeah, pass.
It’s not the first text I’ve received from him since we broke up, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. I just ignore them and move on with my life because that’s the healthy thing to do.
Speaking of moving on . . .
This shower is phenomenal. I hate to admit it, but I’m jealous because it’s much better than the one in my apartment. The water pressure is significantly better, and I can really feel the water slice the crud off me. It’s not that I have a lot of crud on my skin, but you get it.
The showerhead has more holes, so it feels like tiny needles poking me—trust me, it feels good.
And there’s more room, a place for me to rest my foot while I shave, and a fan above so all the steam from the shower gets sucked right out of the room.
Kind of wish this was the bathroom in my apartment.
I can’t complain, though. Mine is much better than other places I’ve stayed in before.
I finish drying off and start applying my lotion. When I arrived today for my nightly shower, there wasn’t anyone around. The house almost felt . . . eerie. So, instead of looking for Ryland, I helped myself to the bathroom. Is this showering setup in a separate building from my apartment slightly inconvenient? Yeah, but I don’t mind the water pressure.
Once I’m done with my lotion, I decide to brush my teeth and do my skin routine. Then I put my things in my bin and slide it in the cabinets under the sink. Since I’ll be here for a bit, I might as well make myself comfortable.
With my robe tucked tightly around me and my dirty clothes in hand, I turn off the light and head out of the bathroom. I make my way down the hallway, ready to bolt out of the house, when I’m startled to a stop by the sight of Ryland sitting at the kitchen table, both elbows propped up on the table, hands digging into his hair.
That doesn’t look like a pleased position.
For a moment, I think about just leaving and not bothering to ask him if everything is okay, but the small, curious part of me really wants to know what’s going on. Maybe see that brooding frown of his that I seem to enjoy so much.
So I clear my throat and say, “Water pressure is great in there.”
