Mr. Big Shot: An Enemies To Lovers Romance (Kinda Cocky Book 1), стр. 17

He chuckled. “Or him.”

“I’m never having another male secretary. He was an asshole.”

He barked with laughter. “Well, don’t discount them altogether.”

“Says the guy who only hires busty blondes as his secretaries.” I kicked the speed up a half of a notch.

“Hey, you have your preferences, and so do I. So, you’ll be at the birthday dinner tonight?”

“Doesn’t sound like I have much of a choice.”

“Great. I’ll shoot you the details. Don’t be late,” Brenden told me.

My Bluetooth beeped. “I got another call coming in. See you tonight?”

“Get all the work out now. Because you're not working at this party.”

I rolled my eyes. “Bye, Brenden.”

Then, I clicked the button in my ear as I slowed down the treadmill for my cool down. “This is Zane.”

“The hell are you doing? Running?” My father’s voice rang loudly in my ear, and I paused.

I actually stopped moving and stumbled to get off the treadmill. I put my hands on my knees and panted as the machinery wound down. Then I watched sweat drip to the cushioned floor beneath me as a long, lengthy pause sounded in my ear.

Before Mom picked up the other line. “Zane? You there?”

Clearing my throat, I answered. “Hey, Mom. Sorry. You guys caught me just getting off the treadmill.”

“Knew it sounded like you were running.” Dad grunted.

“You always were a gym rat. Even back in high school,” Mom teased.

“What can I say? It helps relieve stress.”

Dad cleared his throat. “Well, I, for one, am proud of you for finding an outlet. A man who works for a living needs an outlet for stress. Luckily for me, I have your mother.”

Mom giggled as I shook my head. “Thanks for that, Dad.”

“Anytime.”

“So! How are things? Did you ever get that car you were looking at?” Mom asked with a cheery voice.

Dad laughed. “Sweetheart, your son doesn’t want to talk about what he’s purchased this week.”

“Well, I want to know what he’s purchased. Oh! Did you get another suit? You always buy the best suits. I keep telling your father he should take fashion pointers from you.”

“I like my blazers just fine, thanks.”

Slowly standing up, I replied, “Nothing wrong with a good blazer. Brenden wears them all the time.”

Mom scoffed. “Yes, but with those dreadful khaki pants. We taught him to dress better than that.”

“She’s got a point there, son.”

I chuckled. “So, why the phone call? Everything all right?”

“Do we need an excuse to call our son?” Dad asked.

Mom shushed him, and I knew something was on her mind.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

Mom sighed. “Well, we just--.”

Dad finally took the reins. “Your mother’s hurt that you haven’t called in a while to talk with us.”

“I’m not the only one who’s been mentioning it, Craig.”

“I hear you, Jenny. But I also understand. The man’s got a business to run.”

“At the expense of his family?” Mom meekly asked.

“I had to make those sacrifices, too. It comes with being a successful business owner.” My father and mother were having their own conversation.

“Well, there are a few things I would’ve changed to get more time with you, had you ever listened to me.” My mother's voice was back to defiant.

I cracked my neck. “I’m sorry for not calling as much. Dad’s right, though. Work has been insane, and Brenden is slowly beginning to procrastinate on finishing his projects. So, a lot is landing on my shoulders right now.”

Dad’s voice grew serious. “You need to address that sooner rather than later. I know what it’s like to have someone who doesn’t give a flying--.”

“Craig,” Mom hissed.

Dad edited himself. “--care about me. That’s how I ended up in business myself. I let my former business partner walk all over me, and when I finally stood up for myself, I realized things would never change. At least you and Brenden have a friendship as well as being brothers to fall back on.”

I cleared my throat. “I know, Dad.”

“Talk to him, son. And as soon as you can.”

I sniffled hard. “I hear you. I will.”

Mom interjected. “And tell Brenden we said ‘hello,’ all right? We haven’t spoken to him in a while, either.”

I ran my hand through my sweaty hair. “I definitely will.”

Dad chuckled. “That’s the sound of a man trying to get us off the phone because he’s got work to do. I’m proud of you, son. Only a true man knows that he has to step up more than five days a week in order to get shit done.”

“Craig!”

“Jenny, the boy is how old now? It’s fine.”

I grinned. “Love you guys. I’ll call you soon. I promise.”

Mom giggled. “You better.”

“You take care,” Dad said.

“You, too, Dad.”

As we all hung up the phone, only one thing from that conversation stood out in my mind.

The fact that my father understood me.

A fact I didn’t like one damn bit.