Calculated Exposure Read Online Free

him. Hell, she probably spent entire days dealing with surly mathematicians and scientists, and likely wondered why couldn’t just one of them be easy. Curt knew he wasn’t easy. Never had been.
    “We need an answer and your start date,” she said with a sigh.
    “Fine.”
    “And, uh…” She rustled some paper on her end. “Just for my records, have you been approached by any other companies?”
    “Your records, huh? Or did Bridget Rose tell you to ask? Because that sort of falls into the realm of none-of-your-business.”
    “The firm is prepared to pay you a signing bonus that could substantially offset the Federal deficit, and you don’t think they’re entitled to some curiosity?”
    “Well, well. I think you have a sense of humor, don’t ya?”
    “Two weeks, Mr. Ryan.” She hung up.
    He let the phone fall to the grass. “Fuck.”
    “I hate to interrupt your commune with nature, Curt, but dinner’s about ready and we have a guest.”
    Curt sighed, propped himself onto his elbows, and glared at his old college friend. He’d been staying with Grant, his wife Carla, and their two kids for the past few days. They lived in Maynooth, closer to Dublin than his family in Mahon. He needed to be near Dublin to do what he’d come to Ireland for in the first place.
    “Oh yeah?” he called across the garden. “I take it this person is the sort of guest who’d be concerned about the lush sprawling on your sod, huh?”
    “Most likely. Come on, food’s hot. If we hold up dinner again, Carla’s going to bark. She’s cute when she’s mad, but I don’t want to get her blood pressure up. It’s probably bad for the baby.”
    “Probably.” Curt stood with a groan and as he passed through the storm door, Grant gave him a reassuring pat on the back.
    “A good meal will make it all better. Always does.”
    “And it’ll provide something for all that alcohol to soak into, yeah?”
    “Precisely. Can’t have you poisoning yourself with Irish Gold when you’re so close to earning your doctorate. Poison yourself after you get the check for the signing bonus. That way you’ll have insurance to cover your detox. While you’re drying out, maybe you’ll realize life doesn’t suck as bad as you think and give up the sauce for good.” As he passed, Grant gave Carla a goosing that made her yip and reflexively flick a dishtowel at him.
    Curt rolled his eyes and as he approached the sink to wash his hands, he caught sight of the mystery guest in his blurry periphery. He turned his head fully toward the dining table to line her up within focus of his glasses.
    That woman! Sitting there at the Fennells’ kitchen table with little Adam on her lap. What the hell?
    “Curt, you remember Erica, I guess?” Carla asked, pressing a glass of whiskey toward him.
    He tried not to think too hard about how her supplying him with booze seemed antithetical to the drying out he really wasn’t in need of. “Yeah, how could I forget? Brain’s not quite that pickled yet, regardless of what you lot pretend.”
    “Speaking of pickled brains, are you really content with Seth graduating before you? The same guy whose advisor disappeared without a trace for two full years?” Grant asked. “Fuck, you had all that time to catch up while he was in Russia with an expired visa, and you squandered it. What the hell were you doing, anyway?”
    “Yeah, about that…” There was a tug at his jeans’ leg. Curt looked down to find Emma staring up him with a scowl on her angelic face. He knelt. “Yes, dear?”
    “No eat potatoes.”
    Carla blew out a long-suffering sigh at the stove and mumbled something incomprehensible.
    “I’ll eat your potatoes,” Curt offered, feeling very magnanimous.
    Erica snickered and he raised a brow at her. Oh, is that funny?
    “No want them,” Emma reinstated as he returned his gaze to the tot.
    “Okay. I promise they won’t touch your plate. There shall be no potato taint anywhere near your dish.” He