Page 15 of The Grump I Married
I caught my bottom lip between my teeth, nodding. Ihadlooked into it already. “I’d need a master of science focused on environmental policy.”
“It depends on the program, but you’d probably need a minimum of thirty credit hours. And throwing in a couple of public affairs and energy law courses wouldn’t hurt either,” he added.
My jaw clenched, my eyes narrowing. “I’d need at least a year to do all that if I was studying full time.” That was a lot of time and a lot of money. If I took only a few credit hours a semester, I couldmaybeswing it while having a full-time job, but just how long would that take?
“And what if I gave you that year?” he said. “A full, calendar year of paid leave. I’ll cover the cost of your courses, with a stipend for living expenses,andI’ll guarantee that you’ll have a job waiting for you in that department when you finish.”
I tried not to gape. The man who could barely handle eight hours without me in the job was now talking about giving me a year of paid leave? Weston was dangling one hell of a carrot in front of me, and I couldn’t lie. I wanted to bite. Hard.
With that degree under my belt, I didn’t even need to stay at Kincaid Energy if I didn’t want to. I could move into lobbying or government relations. I could be sorting internal strategies for global energy companies. I’d actually be shaping policy, not just keeping Weston’s agenda!
“You’re not saying no,” Weston said, cocking his head as he stared at me. “Does that mean you’d consider the offer worth six months of being my wife while I take control of Lochbrae?”
“I’m not saying yes,” I said, turning to the sink. I shoved my hands in the soapy water, washing the dishes. “But hypothetically, what would the next six months look like?”
What would marrying him really mean?
Weston came to stand beside me, leaning against the counter. “You’d need to come to Scotland with menow. There’s a lot to sort through at the estate, and I need my assistant.”
“You do know I quit, right?”
“Not in this scenario,” he said, his voice low, gravelly. “But I should only need you in Scotland for a week or so. Then we’ll both come back to the States where we resume our normal lives. You can apply for grad school and keep working until you’re ready to start. Or you can start your year of paid leave right away and have a vacation until grad school begins. And after six months, wherever you are, we’ll file for that divorce.”
Laid out like that, it almost sounded…reasonable?
I let the water drain from the sink, watching the bubbles disappear. I didn’t want Weston to know I was blown away by the offer. But all it did was speak to his desperation. Heneededme.
To stop Jasper.
To fulfill Pete’s will.
To protect the estate and the land so he could build the wind farm his grandfather had envisioned creating in the Highlands.
And he didn’t have time to convince someone else, especially now that Narissa was on a posting spree.
But still—marrying him? I couldn’t seriously be considering saying yes, could I?
I turned to him abruptly. “It’s getting late. I’m tired. You’re tired.”
“Lena—”
I needed the night to figure this out. “You should go.”
He looked toward the door, then back to me, that unanswered question burning in his eyes. Before he could say anything else, our phones buzzed simultaneously.
I checked the notification, and so did he.
“Narissa again,” he growled.
I gritted my teeth as I read the latest post.Weston Kincaid can run a business, wear a ten thousand dollar suit and fly private. But he’s still the emotionally stunted manchild who blew me off when I asked him to go to therapy. Good luck to your new boo!
“Okay, so this one’s hitting a little further below the belt than exotic jungle STIs.”
“A little?” he said, his eyes almost bulging out of his head. “The first comment:Didn’t he say his company supported mental health charities? Hashtag not a good look.”
“Looks like she finally got around to tagging Kincaid Energy too.”
“Fucking hell,” Weston muttered.
