Something Like Hate

Also By Claudia Burgoa

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The Baker’s Creek Billionaire Brothers Series

Loved You Once

A Moment Like You

Defying Our Forever

Call You Mine

As We Are

Yours to Keep

Luna Harbor

Finally You

Simply You

Truly You

Always You

Perfectly You

Madly You

Against All Odds Series

Wrong Text, Right Love

Didn’t Expect You

Love Like Her

Against All Odds: The St. James Family

Until Next Time, Love

Something Like Love

Betting on Love

Accidentally in Love

Waiting for Love

The Spearman Brothers

Maybe Later

Then He Happened

Once Upon a Holiday

Almost Perfect

Paradise Bay Billionaire Brothers

Faking The Game

Can’t Help Love

Along Came You

My Favorite Mistake

Just One Kiss

Meant For Me

Finally Found You

Where We Belong

Second Chance Sinners Duet

Pieces of Us

Somehow Finding Us

My One

My One Regret

My One Despair

The Everhart Brothers

Fall for Me

Fight for Me

Perfect for Me

Forever with Me

Mile High Billionaires

Finding My Reason

Something Like Hate

Someday, Somehow

Standalones

Us After You

Chasing Fireflies

Until I Fall

Christmas in Kentbury

Chaotic Love Duet

Begin with You

Back to You

Co-writing

Holiday with You

Home with You

Here with You

Honeymoon with You

Dedication

To my readers, because you inspire me.

Epigraph

“Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.” —Lao-Tzu

One

Miller

Failure is not an option.

That’s my mantra. I’m determined to succeed. Determination is one of my best tools. I thought I got it from my father, who is a successful, award-winning urban architect. But I’m as persistent as my mother.

Dad’s quiet, observant, and wise—a man of few words, to say the least.

His practical advice when I’m about to lose a battle with my mother, Crystal, is, “She’s always right. Just do what she says.”

For the most part, I follow those wise words. Because that woman never loses an argument. Except today, she’s not winning.

“Mom, I’m on a tight schedule.” I use the oldest excuse in my book. “We’re about to land two accounts. I can’t just take time off because my sister decided to elope.”

Clearing my throat, I continue, “Not that she’s eloping. By definition, elopement is marrying secretly...Why is she in such a hurry to get married anyway?”

Sorry, Lola, I have to throw a little shade your way to save my ass.

“She loves Kevin,” Mom responds defensively. “Engagements don’t need to last long to be meaningful. It doesn’t take a long-term relationship to realize you’re with the love of your life. It’s time for you to grow up and find love too. Find the right person to spend the rest of your life with. One day I’ll die, and when I do, I want to go knowing my children are happy.”

“I’m happy, Mom,” I say, annoyed by the guilt trip. “You’re fifty-eight and healthy. Please, don’t start blackmailing me the way Grandma does to you.”

I tap on my desk, trying to keep my thoughts to myself. Women are unpredictable. I don’t claim to understand them, but there are a few things I’ve learned during my thirty-four years on this earth.

One, they take it upon themselves to try to fix us, whether we’re broken or not. Two, arguing with them is pointless. Three, they rarely take no for an answer.

Fighting with Mom is a losing battle 99.9% of the time, and she doesn’t understand the meaning of the word no.

Unless she’s the one saying it to us.

Most days, my own mother is my biggest adversary, but I adore the woman. Crystal Archer isn’t to be taken lightly.

“Everybody dies, Miller. I could die right now and what’s the last memory I’d take with me?” She pauses, and I take a big breath, staring out the window as I wait for her to hit me with the guilt trip. “You refusing to go to your sister’s wedding.”

Clumps of wet snow fall mindlessly down. Large snowdrifts cover the branches, buildings, and cars moving along the I-25 corridor. It’s just another day in Denver. A blinding sea of white against the asphalt. Leaving this cold city to enjoy a few days in tropical weather would be a smart move. Except I’d have to deal with my family for four long days.

“Milo, sweetie,” she calls me by the nickname she’s used for me since I was four. I hate it so much. “I’m worried about you. I want you to be happy.”

“I am happy,” I say, sighing. “I’ll be even happier if I can skip Lola’s wedding.”

“Are you dating again?” She doesn’t acknowledge my plea.

Am I dating?

Is she for real?

Fuck, why would I want to date? The last time I was in a relationship, it fucked me up seven ways to Sunday. Been there, done that. I have the fucking T-shirt to show for it.

Thank you, but no thank you.

“Because Kelly’s daughter is coming to the wedding. Remember her? Stacey Remington.”

“Mom, please don’t set me up.”

“She’s one of the bridesmaids.”

I don’t care who she is. Do not set me up!

“Mom, I already have a girlfriend,” I lie.

The last time I begged her not to set me up, she said, “Well, I have no choice, since you spend your entire life at the office.”

“You do?” Her voice comes out a little too excited.

“Of course. That’s why I’m asking you to stop setting me up. I don’t think my girlfriend would appreciate it.”

“Well, that changes everything,” she says.

I finally relax and get ready to say goodbye. “That settles it then. I’m off the hook. I’ll make sure to throw them a party once they’re back from their honeymoon.”

“Milo, this is your sister’s wedding. You can’t miss it. I expect you to be there tomorrow,” she says firmly. “No excuses.”

“Mom, you can’t be serious,” I protest. “I have work to do. She can’t just snap her fingers and say, ‘I’m getting married’ and expect everyone to drop everything to join her.”

“You're ridiculous,” she chides me with the motherly voice she’s been using since I was a kid. “She invited you last December when she got engaged. I not only expect you to be there but bring your girlfriend too.”

I grip the phone receiver and look around my office. Where do I get an imaginary girlfriend on such short notice?

“She can’t go, Mom.”

“I understand. Escorts have tight schedules.”

“Mom, that’s—”

“There’s always Kiley Ott,” she pauses, “if Stacey isn’t a good fit.”

How many women is she trying to set me up with? And Kiley Ott? She’s like forty-five and married.

“Mom, she used to babysit us.”

“No, her sister Kaileigh is the one who babysat you. Kiley’s ten years younger. She’s a lawyer, and very cute.”

“But I have a girlfriend, Mom,” I insist.

I’m determined to win this round, or at least fight until she gives up on finding me a date.

“I don’t think she’d appreciate if I spent the weekend with Kelly,” I say.

“Kiley,” she corrects me. “Then bring her with you. If you need us to buy the plane ticket, we will.”

“No, Mom. I think I can afford the ticket.”

“Perfect, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

A few hours ago, I was merely determined. Right now, I’m desperate. The few female friends I have aren’t available to travel on such short notice, unless I count Rita, who will expect more than just pretending we’re together.

If I stay in Denver, my parents will disown me. My sister would never forgive me. But if I don’t find someone fast, I’m going to end up with not one, but two undesired blind dates—fixed up by Mom. Knowing my mother, she already promised them my hand in marriage. It wouldn’t be the first time she’s done that to me.

Desperate times call for desperate measures, right?

With that being the case, I go to my best friend’s office. Devon’s nickname is Reckless. One of his hidden talents is finding a chick for every occasion.

“You owe me a few. I’m here to cash in.”

Devon clicks his computer mouse a few times and then turns his attention toward me. “What did you do now?”

“We agreed you wouldn’t watch porn during business hours,” I say when I look at his locked screen.

He rolls his eyes. “It’s research, and the computer is on an independent internet connection. You don’t pay for it.”

“As long as you deliver, I don’t care what you do. Just be discreet.”

“So, what do you need?” he asks, crossing his arms and setting his feet on the desk.

I tell him about Lola’s wedding and my mother’s latest attempt to hook me up with yet another one of her acquaintances.

“Dude, just man up.”

“It’s not about manning up if I can’t get her off my back. You know how she is,” I say, as I take a seat in front of him.

“Yeah, your mom is something else,” he says, exhaling deeply. “I bet she’s already choosing the colors for your wedding.”

“Tell me about it. I don’t know what to do.”

“Call one of your hookups,” he suggests.

“The few one-night stands I’ve had lately are nameless. And the few female friends I have aren’t available this weekend.”

“Roni?” he asks, referring to one of my best friends from college.

“Mom wouldn’t buy it, she’s married, and her wife is Lola’s friend.”

“Is the wife hot?”

“Evans, focus!”

He taps on the armrest a few times and says, “I know someone who might say yes, but she’s not cheap.”

“I’m not hiring a hooker.”

He tosses his head back and laughs.

“That’s fucking hilarious. Annalise would have your balls if she heard you called her a hooker. She’s someone I see from time to time. Works as a freelancer, so she wouldn’t have a scheduling conflict.”

“She’ll charge me?”

“Not exactly. If you’re taking her on vacation, she’ll expect the best. First-class tickets, a five-star suite, and maybe some spending money to buy clothes for the trip.”

“Can you call her?”

“Yeah. Send me the flight information and the details.”

“Thank you,” I say, wondering if what I’m doing is worth it.

“You owe me,” he reminds me as I leave his office.

I turn around and say, “I’ll take a few favors off your debt.”

Two

Claire

“Just a few hours, Claire,” I say excitedly, as I search through my closet for a warm jacket to carry with me.

It’s April, mid-spring, and yet the weather calls for another storm. Could we get a little more sun and a lot less snow?

Yes, another one. If anything, yesterday was a blizzard. We lost power for a couple of hours while I was at work. My boss and the CEO weren’t happy about it. We all received brand-new tablets within the hour so we could get back to work.

God forbid we lose productivity.

Creating social media campaigns isn’t what I signed up for when I started college. When I decided to venture into advertising, I thought I’d be shooting commercials with big name celebrities posing for the camera. For every campaign, there’d be a be bare-chested hunk reciting the slogan I had created.

Instead, I work for Emperor Palpatine and his minion, Darth Vader. They don’t have empathy for their workers. Any other boss would’ve sent us home to avoid the evening commute.

“Forget about work,” I say. “It’s time for you to take a break from everything and have some fun. Maybe get a little action.”

I set up my player and move my hips around, dancing to the rhythm of the music coming from the speaker.

Reggie, my dog, stares at me.

“You don’t understand, Reggie boy. It’s been a long time since …” I huff, rolling my eyes.

Here I am again, talking to my dog as if he was the only person who can understand me. If I had more time, I’d be able to date. I need to rethink my life and my career. Working sixty to eighty hours a week is unhealthy.

“But worth it,” I remind myself.

I eye at the envelope I received yesterday with a job offer from one of the biggest advertising companies in the country. They have a management position with a ridiculous salary increase and housing waiting for me.

It’s tempting to pack everything and start a new life. But then, I’d miss my family and my friends.

Is it worth it?

I shake my head. There’s an open position at my current firm, and if we land the new accounts, I know it’ll be mine.

“Do you think this is warm enough for this weather?” I show my denim jacket to Reggie. “I don’t want to be carrying around my winter coat.”

He flops down on the floor and stares at me after howling a couple of times.

“Yes, I know, you’re not happy about this trip,” I say empathically. “Sorry, buddy. I hate sending you to the kennel, but Amanda can’t watch you, and I refuse to take you to my parents.”

As I say the name Amanda, he stands up and walks toward the door, jumping happily.

“Sorry, she’s not coming to walk you today. I’ll take you around the block before we leave, I promise.”

Reggie is another reason to reduce my hours. I should talk to Mr. Evans and explain to him I can do my job from home, just as well as I do it at the office. Reggie needs me. I need me.

My phone buzzes as I walk toward the laundry room, aka the closet next to the bathroom. I see an incoming text from D. Evans flashing across the screen.

“Devon Evans doesn’t know the meaning of vacation, does he?” I ask no one in particular. “He doesn’t think we have lives outside of the office. He believes my mission in life is to serve him.”

Only a few seconds after the second buzz, the phone rings. This time, it’s my mom’s ringtone.

“Seriously, universe. Is this some kind of test?” I look around my apartment. “My patience is running thin.”

“Mom?” I say, trying to sound excited.

“Did you pack your passport?” she asks without greeting me.

Setting my clean clothes on the coffee table, I go looking for my passport. Why did I forget to look for it yesterday?

Thankfully, it doesn’t take me long to find it. It’s right next to my lucky ankle bracelet.

“Of course, Mom,” I say, fanning myself with it. “I have everything almost ready.”

“Don’t lie to me, Claire Aurelia Solis!”

Great, I’m pissing her off, and it’s not even … I check the time. Shit, it’s almost 7:00 a.m.

“What can I do for you, Mom?” I ask, rushing through the house, cramming my clothes in my luggage.

“Dad and I wanted to make sure you don’t need the international plan.”

“Thanks for the offer, Mom, but I’ll be fine. If there’s an emergency, Courtney has one set up,” I lie.

In fact, I have my own international plan. I’m just not turning on my phone for the next seven days. I’m disconnecting from work and my family.

“Let me change you to speaker, Mom,” I say.

Right after I do it, I sit down on top of my luggage to close it, but I don’t get my finger out in time, and the pressure feels like my thumb is being ripped off of my hand.

“Ouch, fuck!” I yell, standing up immediately.

My finger throbs but it doesn’t seem broken and it’s not bleeding.

“Claire, language!”

“Sorry, Mom,” I apologize, rolling my eyes. “I’m trying to close my bag.”

“I thought you said you were done packing,” she argues, and I bet there’s a frown on her forehead.

Yep, Claire can’t be trusted. She doesn’t have her shit together. I’m giving her another reason why I shouldn’t be going out of the country on my own—at twenty-eight.

There’s a clicking sound coming from my phone. I check and it’s Darth Vader texting.

D. Evans: Where are the templates for the Stewart project?

What? That’s not due for another two weeks.

So typical of him. I’m sure his boss is asking for them, and instead of telling him they’re not ready, he’s going to promise the impossible. Not today, I’m leaving town.

“Mom, I need to call you back. My boss needs me.”

“It’s your day off,” she reminds me. Her voice sounds a little annoyed.

I hate it when she doesn’t believe me.

“Are you trying to cut the conversation short?”

Well, there’s that but… “He’s texting me. Can’t you hear my phone vibrating?”

D. Evans: You didn’t finish the templates for the Stewart project.

C. Solis: It’s almost done, but the proposal isn’t due yet.

D. Evans: I’m aware of that, but you’re leaving on vacation.

C. Solis: For a week. I’ll be back next …

I can’t tell him I’ll be back next Thursday. He’s going to want me in the office on Friday. Or right after my plane lands. This man needs some boundaries.

C. Solis: I arrive on Sunday. There’s plenty of time.

D. Evans: Mr. Archer wants to see them today. Send me what you have, and I need an update on the Carson’s account.

Ah, that makes sense. If Devon Evans is Darth Vader, Miller Archer is Emperor Palpatine. All they care about are the accounts they land and the hours we bill.

C. Solis: I’m leaving for the airport.

D. Evans: Then you better hurry. I need to see something now.

This can’t be happening. I leave for the airport in less than an hour. It wasn’t enough I stayed up late last night, working on some last-minute changes for a campaign that launches this Friday.

“Mom, I have to finish a few things. Can I call you later?”

In a week or so?

“You haven’t heard the news yet.”

“Mom?” I ask exasperated, opening my laptop to access my office desktop. “Can I please call you back later?”

She’s pushing me to the edge. I’m about to have a nervous breakdown.

Calm down, Claire. You always work well under pressure.

“Nikki is expecting,” she says, ignoring my plea.

“Expecting a call?” I try to humor her and fake ignorance.

It’s better this way. I just can’t deal with my sister’s life. I love Nikki, the sister, but I’m less than thrilled with Nikki, the Mom.

“What’s going on with you today?” she asks.

Mom and I are close. I usually roll with her conversations, but today isn’t a day I can be animated or match her excitement.

“I meant she’s expecting a baby, Claire. You could at least show a little interest.”

“Woohoo,” I say, taking out my drawing tablet and connecting it to my laptop. “Mom, I really need to go.”

“Claire, you should be happy for your sister.”

“That’s baby number three. She’s done it before and the results have been terrible. My sister shouldn’t be allowed to have children.”

“My grandchildren are beautiful, smart, and loving.”

“You’re calling Lucifer loving?” I stop what I’m doing and look at Reggie.

My poor pup.

“He cut Reggie’s hair and put makeup on him.” My voice comes out a bit harsher than I mean it to.

But how could I stay calm, when my blood was boiling, after finding my poor dog trapped inside a portable crib, looking like a clown.

“His name is Luke, not Lucifer. What happened to Reggie was an accident.”

“No, Mom. Spilling milk is an accident. Lucifer destroying everything he sees is my sister’s lack of discipline. He’s six, not two. The cuteness wore off years ago. How in the world she’s allowed to have more children is beyond comprehension. She can barely take care of Valerie and Lucas.”

Well, that’s only at night. During the day, Mom’s the one taking care of the little devils.

“You were a pistol growing up.”

“It was one time,” I defend myself.

“You used my favorite lipstick to color the walls.”

And she’ll never forgive me.

“Again, that happened once,” I repeat, saving the files on my computer desktop and on the cloud for everyone to access. “I have to go, Mom, my ticket is non-refundable.”

“I expect you to bring a souvenir for your sister to celebrate the news.”

“Mom, I really need to go,” I insist.

“Thomas’ girlfriend is moving in with him,” she continues, oblivious to my pleas.

I send the email to my boss, reminding him I won’t be available until next week.

“Congratulations to the happy couple,” I blurt but then amend, “Tell him I won’t help him kick her out when he’s done with her.”

“Where is my positive daughter?”

A new email pops in my inbox from my boss. This can’t be happening. My back feels heavy, and my chest constricts. I’m going to miss my flight, and I’ll end up working all week.

“Not here,” I answer. “I’m panicking because I have to finish packing. My boss is sending me more work, and I have a few errands to run.”

“What about Reggie?”

“I’m dropping him at the kennel.”

“We can take care of him.”

I cough, masking my laughter.

“You have your hands full, Mom, but I appreciate it.”

There’s no way I’m leaving my puppy with Lucifer and company. My nephew traumatized poor Reggie.

“I still don’t understand why you’re spending your birthday out of town. We’re your family.”

“Mom, I can’t hear you. My battery is dying. I’ll call you as soon as I get to the airport.”

It’s okay, Claire, I reassure myself. This bullshit is on hold for the next week.

The Story Continues on BooksBarbecue!

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