All Our Tomorrows (The Heirs Book 1)

Chase poured himself a drink and walked out to the crisp air on his patio before dialing Piper’s number.

For the first time in weeks, his heart felt free.

The conversation with the Morrisons put the icing on his cake. Maybe it was false confidence, but Chase had a renewed sense of certainty that they could and would manage Stone Enterprises without causing the company to fail.

He and Alex had a name for their half brother, and a meeting with the estate attorney next week would put them on the path of finding him.

And then there was Piper.

Just hearing her name in his head made Chase smile. It had been a long time since he felt a connection with any woman on this level, and yeah, she was an invisible line that shouldn’t be crossed, but damn, she felt good. How bad could flirting hurt? It wasn’t like he had to worry about her boss firing her . . . or him.

Chase pulled up her number, smiled at the snapshot he’d pulled from the gossip magazine that he now used as her profile picture, and dialed.

“I’m glad you can take direction,” she said when she answered the phone.

“Good evening, Piper. How are you?” he asked as if he didn’t hear the snark in her voice.

He liked the snark in her voice.

“I thought when you said we could handle this like adults, you meant ignore it for the greater good of all. Not flirt with me over a text message.”

So she’d caught that. “Was that what I was doing?”

“Isn’t it?” she asked.

“If it sounds like flirting, and it tastes like flirting . . .”

She moaned. “One of us is going to have to be the adult here. I guess that’s me.”

Chase smiled, sipped his whiskey. “Did anyone mention the article today?”

“Only you. But you and I both know that there’s a one hundred percent chance of that article circulating by morning. What are we going to say?”

“The truth.”

“And what’s that? That we were posing for the cover of a romance novel?” The aggravation dripped from her words.

“I like how you think, Piper.”

“You’re. Not. Helping.”

Damn, she was getting pissed.

“Okay, okay. When Alex saw it, I told her—”

“Oh, God! Your sister knows?”

“Focus, Piper. I told her it was photoshopped and that nothing happened. Which we both know nothing happened. So essentially, we tell the gossip mill the truth.”

She was silent.

Completely silent.

“You still there?” he asked.

“You think that’s all we need to do?”

“Do you have a better suggestion?”

He heard her sigh.

“No. Nothing happened, so we’re okay.”

It was his turn to get quiet. “Not for lack of wanting.”

“Chase . . . you don’t want me. I’m complicated. So, so complicated.”

He watched the ice swirl in his glass, the amber liquid sticking to the sides. “That may be, but it doesn’t change the facts.”

“Chase!”

“You’re smart. You’re beautiful. You’re funny. You take zero shit from me, and I like that. Do you know how rare that is?”

He heard her laugh, and he knew he was opening the door to her locked boundary.

The next morning, Julia slapped a physical copy of the mystery woman article on Piper’s desk and folded her arms over her chest. “Someone has some explaining to do.”

Piper’s heart was in her throat as the practiced half lie, half truth came tumbling out. “Isn’t that crazy? It’s amazing what they can do with Photoshop . . . or maybe that’s AI.”

“Are you telling me he isn’t holding you in this picture?”

“I tripped, and he kept me from going face-first into the planter. That’s it.” Her words sounded strong.

Her hands shook.

“But the way he’s looking at you.”

“Photoshop, Julia. Please!” Piper sat at her desk, pulled the crackers out of her purse, and set them aside.

“Well, damn. I was hoping for some juicy gossip.”

“It’s still good gossip, it’s just not true.” Piper hid her nerves by turning on her computer and pulling out the calendar for the day.

Walking down the hall, Chase came into view. He wore a dress shirt but hadn’t bothered with a suit jacket or a tie. She liked the casual-Friday look . . . even if it was Thursday.

Julia snatched the article off the desk when she saw him coming.

Piper grabbed it from her and waved it in the air. “Hey, boss, did you see? We’re a thing.”

Their eyes met for one brief moment.

His jaw twitched.

“Good to know,” he said, dismissing them as he walked by. “Oh, by the way, I need you to show Busa around the third floor when he shows up this afternoon.”

“You’re not going to be here?” she asked.

“I have lunch with a shipping executive and won’t be back.” He glanced at Julia. “Good morning, Julia.”

“Morning, Mr. Stone.”

And that was it.

Chase disappeared in the corner office and didn’t offer one more word about the article.

By the time he left for the day, the rumor mill had been squashed from the first floor to the top.

And Piper felt she could breathe again.

“Chase Stone is on line two.”

Stuart Cadry thanked his secretary and let his hand hover over the button to connect the call.

“Chase, how are you?”

“Good. We’re good. I’m calling to see if you’ve gotten anywhere with the names I gave you?”

Stuart leaned back in his chair. “I’d love to tell you I have. But that would be a lie. I have two of my staff on the search, and so far they’ve come up with a lot of nothing. Smith and Davis are common names.”

“I figured that out myself searching the internet.”

“The mother may have taken him out of state. Hell, we don’t even know if she was in California.”

“Did my father ever suggest that?”

Stuart opened the bottom drawer of his desk and removed a leather-bound notebook from it. “Nope. Just my deduction. Have you found anything else out?”

“No. We’ve been overwhelmed at the office.”

“I’m going to expand my search nationwide. If she left the country, we’re going to need more to go on,” Stuart said.

“What about the bank account? Any luck with that?”

“The secret one that was closed years ago . . . no.”

“Damn.”

“I know it’s frustrating. We’ll find him.” Stuart opened the notebook.

“When do we consider a private investigator?”

“I must advise against it. You’re making the headlines without a whisper of this. My staffers even ask what account they’re billing their time to when they’re searching. I trust my people, but you never know what can leak out.”

Chase let out a sigh. “I’m impatient.”

“These things take time, Chase. Leave the search to me. And if you stumble onto anything, let me know.”

“We will.”

Stuart disconnected the call and took a pen in his hand.

He wrote a note to himself, recapping what he’d told Chase so he could keep his story straight the next time they talked.

Two staffers searching nationwide.

Nothing on the bank account, didn’t give hope to that thread.

He closed the notebook and put it back.

“You know, Aaron . . . you put me in a really shitty position with this one, and you’re not even around for me to yell at.”

Stuart opened the file on his desk he’d been working on and pushed all things Stone out of his head. Just as he’d been instructed to do as the executor of Aaron’s will.

Dim lighting and loud music filled the club that had forever changed Piper’s life. She’d come directly from work, but already the place was full. She’d met Jim—or was it Tim?—during happy hour, and they’d continued to drink long after the price of the drinks went up.

Piper felt this was the best time to try and find him.

She found a lone stool at the bar and took a seat as she scanned the room.

The bartender walked over and tossed a coaster in front of her. “What can I get ya?”

“Club soda,” she said without hesitation.

He quickly returned with her carbonated water and moved to another customer.

Anytime a tall guy with broad shoulders and brown hair that was brushed to the side walked by, she did a double take.

A blond in a suit walked over to her after she’d been there for about an hour. “You look lonely. Can I join you?”

She smiled, looked around him. “Not tonight.”

“What about tomorrow?”

Piper shook her head, and he walked away.

The bartender returned, a new club soda in his hands. “Let me know if you want something different.”

She turned to him and smiled. “I’m actually looking for somebody,” she said above the noise at the bar.

“Oh yeah?”

“He’s about your height, little slimmer, brown hair. I think his name is Tim or Jim. Said he comes in here once in a while.”

“You just described about half the guys that come in here.”

“He splurges on tequila shots.” Way too many tequila shots.

The bartender gave her a blank stare.

“He was with some friends. One was super blond, longish hair. And a short African American. I think they are all roommates.”

The bartender wiped his hands on a bar towel and narrowed his eyes. “I’m not sure who you’re talking about, but if anyone comes in with that description, I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks. It’s kind of important.”

“Oh? Did someone die or something?”

Piper shook her head and huffed out a laugh. “No. Quite the opposite, actually.”

He looked her up and down, his gaze settled on her still-thin stomach.

She patted her abdomen one time and met his eyes. “Yeah.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll keep an eye out for him.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

Three club sodas later, and she called it a night.

Piper repeated the entire thing on Saturday. This time taking up space at the bar where she had a view of the front door.

The same bartender smiled at her as she sat down and handed her a club soda without asking.

She wondered how many women had come in there before doing exactly what she was doing. She wasn’t the first woman to find herself pregnant from a one-night stand and wouldn’t be the last.

The bass of the music was provoking a headache, which made her call it a night after two hours.

She made her way to the bathroom before leaving since her bladder didn’t seem to have the same capacity as it had two weeks prior.

In the bathroom, she stood at the sink, washing her hands, as two girls stumbled in, laughing at the top of their lungs. Both in short skirts and club-worthy tops that displayed their cleavage, Piper recognized the look.

One of them stepped over to the condom vending machine and started to dig into her purse.

“Those don’t work,” Piper said as she opened the door.

“Excuse me?”

She nodded to the machine and patted her stomach. “They don’t work.”

The girls stopped laughing, jaws dropped, and looked at each other.

Piper smiled as she left them behind, hoping her wise words saved them. She hiked her purse up on her shoulder and weaved her way through the crowd toward the door.

She smiled at the bartender, who was leaning in and talking with a man at the bar.

Piper froze.

The bartender nodded her way, and the man turned.

It was him.

Their eyes locked.

Her feet rooted in place, her smile fell, and Piper’s hand moved to her stomach. She didn’t mean for that to happen, it just did.

Tim or Jim turned stone white.

And then, as if flipping a switch, he turned to the bartender, shook his head, and shrugged.

And that pissed her off.

Tim/Jim kept his back to her as she approached him.

“Excuse me,” she said, interrupting his conversation with his friends.

He turned and offered a half-baked smile. “Hey.”

“Hi.” She waited for him to say something . . . anything.

“Do I know you?”

Not the right words.

Yet perfectly right.

“I think we met.” Piper was giving him a chance, even though she could see the sweat on his forehead. Even his friends slowly turned away, giving them space.

“I don’t think so,” he said, taking a long pull from his beer.

“Jim . . . isn’t it?”

“No. Not me.”

“Tim?”

“Sorry.”

Asshole.

It didn’t matter. This was all she needed to do.

He looked down her body, his eyes resting on her stomach as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down.

“I must be mistaken.” Piper stepped back.

The bartender stood listening to the whole conversation while drying an already-dry glass.

She leaned toward the bar and said in a loud enough voice for Tim/Jim to hear, “If you ever see the guy I’m looking for, let him know I was here, but that I’m never coming back.”

The bartender lifted his chin. “What’s your name?”

Piper met Tim/Jim’s eyes. “It doesn’t matter.”

Piper turned on her heel, shoulders squared, and walked out the door.

The cool air of the parking lot hit her, the music from inside followed her out. She’d given Tim/Jim a chance. And he, without question, fell into the category of an uninvolved father. Went so far as to deny ever knowing her.

Piper fisted both hands, tempted to walk back into the bar and punch the man.

Instead, she yanked open her car door and climbed behind the wheel.

Several deep breaths later, she felt her pulse slowing, and with it, clarity settled. She’d done the right thing by him.

Now she needed to do what was right for her.