Exposed: New Adult Sport Romance (The Boys of Winter Book 5) by Violet Vaughn

thing we might be a family now.
    Curling up on the couch with the sketchpad held close to my chest, I cry again. The metal coil is cold under my chin. This time my tears are for my broken promise and the heart I shattered.

Chapter 10

    Thenight I told Trevor about our child I had a terrible dream. I dreamt my daughter was in a lake and drowning. She had slipped below the surface, and I was swimming underwater trying to find her. I felt something and grabbed it only to pull up a dead Trevor.
    I haven’t heard from him, and I wonder what he’s thinking. I tense, imagining he probably hates me right now. Paper rustles as I recheck my notes one more time. Outside Neal’s office I’m pacing as I wait. This time I’m early, and the tap of my feet echoes off the walls of the empty lobby. The scent of something sour and sweet wafts toward me, and I envision spilled drinks on the floor of the Fish Bowl, the nightclub Neal owns.
    As I wander toward the restaurant side, onions infuse the odor, making it turn my stomach. I’m not sure whether I’m nervous to see Neal, or if it’s because I’m insecure about my business sense.
    The door squeaks open, and feet pound down the stairs quickly as if they’re chasing the cold draft that comes too. Neal appears with damp hair and unusually casual attire. His jeans are faded and have a hole in the knee, and he’s wearing a flannel-lined Carhartt jacket that could use a good washing.
    “Hey, sorry I’m late.”
    I smile and return his words from last time. “Are you? I hadn’t noticed.”
    He chuckles, and keys jingle in his hand as he turns the lock. “Let’s talk inventory.”
    Fluorescent lights hum when he flips the switch, and he pulls a chair for me over to his desk.
    I take out my notes, and the paper is cool under my hands as I smooth out the small pile I place next to his laptop. “Okay, I’ve done a quick sketch of the items and listed the sizes and quantities I think I need under each one. Nika has already helped me with the numbers.”
    Neal is grinning, and I ask, “What?”
    “I like the sketches.”
    “Oh. I’m kind of visual, and it helps me know what I’m talking about.”
    “It’s awesome, and this helps me too.”
    “Good.” I move the paper to rest above the next sheet and say, “Now on this page I have how many hours each garment should take to create from cutting till the end. But I do streamline some of the process, like cutting a bunch of things at once, so it’s an estimate leaning toward the safe side.”
    Neal nods as I go on explaining the process and then give him the range of how many man hours I need for the bare minimum of inventory, enabling me to fill my store in time to open mid-December.
    As he reviews everything, I try not to fidget. My hair is tickling my neck and face, so I gather it in a bun and grab a pencil from the cup Neal has on his desk. I shove it in the mass to secure my updo.
    Neal looks up from the paper and glances quickly at my hairdo before he says, “Well done, Ruby. I think we can pull it off.”
    “You do? Because ideally I need to hire three girls by tomorrow.”
    “Do you have anyone you can use from before?”
    “Yeah, there’s one that’s a patroller, and when I talked to her she said she’d work full-time through November and part-time after that. Between the two of us we could get the bare minimum, but that doesn’t make me comfortable.”
    “I might have people for you. One of my waitresses sews, and so does a girl at The Wine and Cheese Shop.” Neal leans back in his rolling chair and twists it side to side. “And if you’re not too sexist, I have a guy for you too.”
    I raise my eyebrows. “I’m not sexist, I know plenty of guys that sew. Where did you find him?”
    “He’s a freestyler and washes dishes for me for extra money. He’d probably only be able to help you part-time for a month or so.”
    Freestylers compete in skiing bumps, and while they travel to do so, there’s a lot of