Page 22 of Tied Up in Riches
“Undoubtedly. But you already promised your mom. Might as well kill a couple of birds with a free stone and not give him any reason to cause problems.”
“He’s still going to cause problems, but fine. You better clear your schedule for me. I’ll need my sidekick.”
“I’m all yours. Let me know when and where.”
“Thanks, Cam. You’re the best.”
“I know. Love you, babe.”
I return the sentiment and hang up, still feeling slightly concerned about the future of my mom’s job and significantly worse now that I have a set return date to hell.
Chapter eleven
Marcus
Lifting my suitcase over the threshold of my front door, I quietly set it on the tile and walk down the entryway of my house to get to the kitchen without waking anyone. I haven’t been this exhausted in a while, but the past week being gone was a lot. And to top it all off, my to-do list today doesn’t include a nap.
Turning the corner, three pairs of eyes shoot to me. Maci stands at the sink filling a water bottle. Dean and Brooke are sitting on the breakfast stools with coffee mugs in their hands. It’s 7 a.m. on a Sunday. What are they all doing awake? From my spot at the side of the kitchen, I scan Brooke’s outfit. Tight black leggings, a basic burnt orange sports bra that reveals more of her cleavage than I’ve seen to date. I blink, hardly awake. Fuck. I run my hands down my face. Her blonde waves are pulled back into two loose French braids that I would kill to tug on from behind.
“Are you just now getting home?” Dean questions, standing from his seat and walking around the counter to put his mug in the sink. His hand falls to Maci’s lower back as he reaches around in front of her.
“Yeah. My flight got delayed.” I was supposed to get home late last night from my work trip to Salt Lake City, but apparently the plane had other plans.
“You don’t have to come with us if you’re too tired,” Maci says with a yawn. I fight my own. Go with them? Oh fuck. I forgot we had plans to go hiking, and Maci didn’t mean her sentiment.
I try anyway. “Raincheck?” I hate bailing on my friends, but I still have a massive amount of work to get done today.
“But it’s Brooke’s first hike,” Maci pouts. “We have to make her fall in love so she comes back after she visits her mom. And we’re doing your favorite one.” Her eyes turn into damn puppies, and Dean chuckles.
“Okay, okay.” Fucking hell. She’s not my girlfriend, and I still can’t seem to tell her no. Also, Brooke is leaving? Already? I thought she didn’t want to go yet, and she just let me hire her. “Give me ten?” I haven’t slept all night, but I did promise. She wants Brooke to feel like she has friends here since apparently she doesn’t have much of a support system. Spending time with her is definitely not the reason I’m bumping everything on my list. I mean, she works for me now. So, I’ll be spending time with her regardless.
“Yeah, we’ll meet you outside.” Maci latches onto Brooke’s hand, pulling her from the stool and dragging her toward the door. I can’t fight the grin that slips out. Oh. Wait.
“Did you happen to–” I catch Maci before she’s out the door.
She reaches for the backpack on the ground that I skipped over seeing in the entryway. “Pack you a lunch? Yes, I did.”
I take a firm grip on Dean’s shoulder as he passes. “What’s yours is mine, right?” I smirk.
“Always, man. Except for my future wife. So go find your own.” His grin is goofy as he runs his fingers through his hair, then pushes past me to follow his girl.
The front door closes behind them, and I make my way down the hall. Knowing Brooke isn’t in my room, I pull open the drawer to my dresser and replace my business suit I haven’t taken off from last night’s dinner meeting with black joggers and a faded forest green Oregon Ducks T-shirt. I yank the elastic from my hair, retying it, then grabbing my Nalgene bottle from the kitchen.
Locking the house behind me, I walk toward my car, only to detour when I hear Dean’s truck already running on the other side of it on our gravel driveway.
Sliding into the back seat next to Brooke, I buckle my belt, stealing another glance at her while I do. We’ve texted back and forth a few times this week with a couple of questions about Emma and Charlotte’s company, but I get the impression she’s mostly been communicating with them directly. I would have rather been here working with them in person, but this trip was crucial. I was meeting with a manufacturing company. I had set it up after my first meeting with them. I’m confident the deal will go through, but I wanted to finalize everything with the production in person. It’s my first time dealing with the logistics of physical products like this. Mastering the learning curve and negotiating a deal was a beast, but it’ll be worth it.
I’m about to share my project with Maci and Dean–knowing how supportive they’ll be about it–but common sense kicks in. If Maci wants Brooke to have friends, talking about business probably isn’t the best way to help that. It’s too early, and I haven’t slept nearly enough for that anyway. Not to mention it’s not exactly a chirping birds and sunshine type of investment.
Maci plugs her phone into Dean’s truck using the auxiliary cord, thumbing through her playlist until she lands on the one I know she will. Constantly being in someone’s personal space is a surefire way to get to know them, and that’s proven true since Maci moved in. I’ve known Dean since we were five. He’s one of the select few I’ve let in. Troy and I have become close too, now that we own a business together. My friendship with Maci happened by force and accident. And while I love that we coexist in the same house so well, I can’t help but wish I could spend the same time getting to know someone meant for me.
An instrumental version of Taylor Swift’s “State of Grace” seeps through the speakers, and Maci sets her phone on the dash as the sunlight peeks through the trees on either side. She’s made a playlist of piano covers of all her favorite songs because I rarely listen to music with words. It’s distracting while I work.
The three of us have created quite a few compromises to make for a peaceful living arrangement–none of which I mind. But finding someone who already shares priorities and preferences? That would be great. Leaning my head back against the seat, I close my eyes, letting the melody soothe me. It’s an hour and a half drive, and I could use the peace and a nap.
“I like this version,” Brooke whispers, like she’s talking to herself. “It’s almost like you can feel it more, like the words are trapped inside, trying to get out.” I get the impression she wasn’t talking to me, so I keep my eyes closed. Though, part of the smile I try to prevent slips out.
The small jolt of the truck coming to a stop and Brooke’s fingers grazing my forearm wake me over an hour later. “We’re here.” Her voice is soft, and I wouldn’t mind being woken up this way every day.