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It’s been twenty-three years since our bellies growled from hunger. Real hunger. Painful hunger. Not the kind people mistakenly refer to as starving when it’s only been a half day since their last meal.

“I see Porter’s truck but no Porter.”

“He’s waiting in my truck.”

“Instead of being front and center to meet your new attractive neighbor?”

I can’t be wrong if Lawry thinks it’s odd too. “I know. Weird.”

“He must not have gotten a good look at her.”

“But he did. He’s actually the one who pointed her out to me.”

Fucker is sitting in my truck staring off into space. Smiling. “He denies it but I think the bastard is in some kind of secret relationship.”

“That’s fantastic. But why would he keep it secret? And especially from you?”

“I don’t know but things have been off with him for a while.”

“Things being off automatically makes you think he’s in a relationship?”

“No, but his sudden ability to perfect the disappearing act does. Reminds me of the days when you and Tap were doing the sneaky behind my back.”

“Ah, the disappearing act. A good indication something is going on and he doesn’t want you to know what it is.”

“I know, right?”

“Cut the guy some slack. He’ll come around and tell you when he’s ready.”

“Unless I figure it out first.”

I look over at my truck and see Porter holding his arm out the window tapping on his watch. Laughing. Bastard.

A missing Benjamin from my wallet makes no difference to me. Those few extra moments with my new neighbor were worth every penny for laying the foundation for my next welcome-to-the-neighborhood happy from Adelyn Maxwell.

Yes. I believe I’m going to like this neighborhood a lot.

Adelyn Maxwell

Lawrence Broussard isn’t alone. He’s here too. Her brother. My good-looking neighbor. Oliver Thorn.

I am not disappointed.

Oliver and I spoke the day he moved in next door but there hasn’t been another word since. Not even a wave in passing. It’s unfortunate our paths haven’t crossed.

I’ve been mildly naughty this week where Oliver is concerned. Peeking out my upstairs window to see what’s going on over at his place. Watching him work on his motorcycle. Shirtless. Studying the tattoos on his chest and arms. Spending a little more time in my backyard around the pool. Wearing a new, skimpier-than-usual bikini I bought to entice him into looking my way.

I wonder if he peeked out his window to steal a glimpse of me.

I wonder if he worked outside shirtless to catch my attention.

I wonder if he came here today so he could see me.

There’s been no mention of a wife or girlfriend. Lawrence is the only woman I’ve seen hanging around Oliver’s house but that doesn’t mean he’s single. Or looking. Wow. That thought makes me sound as though I’m looking.

I follow the host toward the table and stumble when the toe of my heel catches on the rubber trim between the tile and carpet. “Shit.”

The host catches my arm and saves me from face-planting. Damn, that would have been humiliating. “Are you all right?”

I quickly straighten and look to see if Lawrence and Oliver saw my clumsy folly. Thank God they’ve not yet noticed my arrival. “Yes. Appreciate the quick save.”

Oliver stands when he sees me. Very gentlemanly. Not something all men do these days. That smile. It’s almost cheeky, but definitely endearing, and something I have seen over and over in my mind since the day we met. Not gentlemanly at all.

“I apologize for keeping you waiting. I won’t go into why but please know I’m not typically tardy.” I despise being late. It’s rude. Implies you believe your client’s time is less valuable than your own.

Oliver takes his seat. “It’s fine. We just arrived.” Kind statement. But untrue.

Bread on the table. Beads of condensation atop the pats of butter. Two half-gone drinks with heavy water rings around the bases. The evidence speaks for itself.

I have an eye for detail. Can’t help myself. It’s what I do.

“If you say so.” Never argue with a client. Especially when they’re being gracious enough to overlook your shortcoming.

I’m seated across the table from Oliver. I was grateful when the host chose this chair for me instead of the one next to him. I was under the impression the greater distance would be less distracting, less intimidating, less personal. Wrong. It’s a direct line for full-on eye contact with those ice-blue lures coaxing me to look their way.

Stop looking. Stop looking. Stop looking, dammit.

You’re here to discuss business. So be professional and get on with it.

“I’m dying to hear about the event you’re planning.” I take my iPad and stylus from my bag. “Tell me about it.”

“It’s a grand opening for our business.” Our business. That means it’s Oliver’s too. That’s why he came. His surprise attendance has nothing to do with a desire to see me.

Silly woman.

“So you’re siblings and business partners? That must be interesting.”

“Well, sort of but not exactly.” I’m not sure what that means but I’m interested in learning. “Oliver and their friend Porter are my husband’s business partners. The three of them own Lovibond Brewery.”

“Oh yeah. I’m familiar with Lovibond.”

“My husband and I started Bohemian Cider Company. It’s a new business, yet an extension of Lovibond, which is already successful. This event won’t be your typical startup company grand opening. We already have tons of clients. Clients we need to schmooze.” Right. Schmooze. With alcohol.

This meeting has suddenly taken a turn for the worst.

Taking a job like this feels . . . wrong. Like a betrayal to Tommy.

I’m not sure I can do it.

“Do you have a day in mind?” Maybe their date will coincide with something else scheduled and I’ll be off the hook.

“The third Saturday in June.”

I open my calendar app and pretend to study the dates; I already know I have an opening. Mrs. Thompson canceled her divorce party. Her husband and his millions talked her into coming back despite the fact he has not one, but two, girlfriends.

How can I take this job?

I’m a professional so how can I not?

I can’t make this decision right now. I need time to think about this.

“My schedule is filled, but one of the clients for that day hasn’t paid her deposit. I’ll need to confirm her one way or the other before I can commit to your event.”

“Of course. Totally understandable. Should we hold off on talking plans until we know for sure?”

I’m not completely sure I’ll decline the job. “I don’t think so. I’d love to hear what you have in mind. Venue, food, decor, etcetera.”

“I was thinking about B & A Warehouse because of the amount of space we’ll need.”

“A little rustic but a good choice for this type of event. You can dress it up or down according to your clientele.”

“I think the rustic aspect is the reason I like the venue so much. Our clientele is mostly informal. It would be silly to plan a black-tie affair.”

“I’ve held events at B & A Warehouse several times. The staff is impeccable.”

“I read on their website they offer catering. Is that something you’d recommend?”

“I don’t usually recommend onsite catering from the venue but they’re actually really good. And reasonably priced.”

“Ladies, excuse me for a moment.” That’s all Oliver says as he pushes away from the table, not waiting for a reply or permission from either of us.

His sudden departure is a little odd. And bordering on rude.

And then I figure out why when I watch him walk to the bar where a pretty blonde sits alone. Gee. That was a little assholish to abruptly leave the t

able during a business meeting to go hit on a woman. No. It wasn’t a little assholish. It was a lot assholish.

Whatever.

Lawrence turns to look at her brother before leaning toward me. “I’m glad he stepped away. I was wanting to talk to you about planning a surprise birthday bash for him.”

“Surprise birthday parties are the best. So much fun.” Even for assholes. “When?”

“He turns thirty on July sixteenth so we’d finish BCC’s event and then we’d have to immediately jump into it.”

“It’s not a problem. Same questions. Venue? Theme?”

“I’m thinking Iron City. It has everything I want. A bar, stage for performers, dance floor.”

“I think that would be the perfect venue for a big party.”

“Ollie has a ton of friends and family from back home I’d want to invite. And college friends. Fraternity brothers. Business associates. The list would probably grow pretty quickly.”

“Big guest lists aren’t a problem. But we’ll need to discuss it later because he’s on his way back to the table.”


Tags: Georgia Cates Men of Lovibond Romance