Page 593 of Summer Heat
“Nothing wrong with that. I can say the same thing about me. My dad paved the way, and I’m thankful for him for it.” I shrug. “Besides, your grandfather may have opened some doors for you, but you’re the one that showed them why you deserved his backing. I remember hearing about you a long time ago. Folks talk when a girl kicks ass in the trades. Especially back then. And believe me, I heard a number of times how good you were.”
“Yes, well, I was a novelty then.” She avoids my eyes and gets up to go fiddle with some old photos of her grandfather on the fireplace mantel. “I bet the stuff you’ve heard about me recently haven’t been quite so glowing.”
It makes me pissed that she even has to deal with this crap. “That’s just your competitors trying to tear you down because you’re so good. I called around before I hired you. Your clients had nothing but praise for your work.” Well, most of them anyway.
A knowing look crosses her expression. “We both know that a few of my clients are the ones talking about me as well.”
Hell, I fucking hate gossip. Hands down one of the stupidest human traits, if you ask me. “I’m sorry you have to put up with folks talking about you behind your back.”
She lifts a dismissive shoulder. “It’s not really a big secret. I am who I am. So why hide it?”
I stare at her. Clearly, I’m missing something.
“What?” she asks, staring back at me, too.
I frown. “Are we talking about the same thing?”
“The rumors that I’m weird?”
“No, the rumors that you were your boss’s mistress in the city.”
Her jaw drops. “WHAT?!”
Shit. I shoot up from the couch. “It’s just something I happened to hear.” From a lot of friggin’ folks. “Could just be a small circulating rumor.” Yeah, not likely.
For the first time ever, Summer looks…vulnerable. Hurt. And that makes me want to beat the shit out of everyone who ever repeated the rumor. “Summer…”
“It’s not true,” she bursts out vehemently. “I don’t even know who they could possibly be talking about.”
I should just drop the subject. But I figure she has a right to know. “It was some high-rise project you did early last year.”
A repulsed shudder shakes her small frame. “Ugh. The client on that one was Chad Harrington. The guy was a jerk, and pretty sleazy if you ask me. Never did see how he had such a sweet wife.” She scowls. “Why on earth would anyone be spreading rumors about me and Harrington?
I barely talked to the guy.”
Yet another instance of where her surprisingly naïve innocence worries me. “Honey,” I say gently, “from what I heard, it was your client that started the rumor.”
Her look of disgusted shock makes me wish I knew who the hell this Harrington jackass was so I could fucking ruin him.
“But…why would he do something like that? He’s married. With a kid.” Her arms wrap around her middle as if she’s literally in pain. “Do you think the rumors got back to his wife? His kid? His daughter was like ten—old enough to be damaged by this.” She looks close to tears over the thought.
Hell, she’s such a sweet, gentle thing.
Definitely fucking ruining the asshole.
“I don’t know the answer to that. All I know is that he bragged about it to a bunch of guys and…well, you know how rumors go.”
“I mean I went to dinner with him a few times, but it was just business meetings. Like the kind we have in your penthouse.” She frowns. “I guess he did get a little handsy once when he was tipsy, but I never really thought much about it because a lot of the construction guys I go drinking with get the same way.”
“Which guys?” I growl. They’re fucking fired.
She jumps. “None of them on this crew.” Her shoulders sag and she looks deflated. “Do folks really believe I’d do that? Sleep with a married man?” She looks up at me, eyes brimming with anger, humiliation. “Wait… You said ‘mistress in the city.’ Do you mean he was telling folks that he was like my…sugar daddy or something?”
I don’t want to tell her that her description is far milder than some of the rumors.
She nods at my silence. “So, my colleagues don’t just think I’m a slut, but also a whore.”
I grip her chin and grit out through my teeth, “Don’t ever fucking say that about yourself.”
