“True. By the way, I’ve heard a rumor that things escalated between you and Nate during the trip.”
“No rumor. It’s true, and you’re not getting any details.”
“How about I just ask him for details?”
“Don’t meddle.”
“It’s the family hobby.” His expression grows more serious. “I just want to look out for you.”
“How about this? If you ever need to punch him, I’ll tell you.”
“Deal.”
“Not that it matters, but who chirped?”
“Summer.”
“Little traitor.” Out of the sisters, Summer is the one who most fiercely guards the boys’ secrets. Apparently, she doesn’t extend the courtesy to me. At least Blake and Daniel are on my side.
The corners of my mouth lift of their own volition in a smile as I think about this past week. I can’t wait to see Nate again. It’s a little nutty to miss him already, but when it comes to him, I’m greedy.
“So Blake’s and Daniel’s sixteen-year-old birthday wishes were to be like me, huh?” Logan asks, jolting me out of my thoughts.
“Shouldn’t have told you. Would you like an extra chair for your ego?”
Logan flashes a grin. “Make that a couch.”
Chapter Eighteen
Nate
I’m one of those people who’s always proudly claimed I went into my line of work because I loved it, not because of the paycheck. I chose to work in television because I always liked good stories. As executive producer, my job often revolves around things like financing and operations—anything but the story—but I don’t mind. Usually. But over the next two weeks, I become increasingly frustrated that ninety percent of my time is spent reining in the financial and operative chaos. Turns out old man Teller was excellent on the creative part, but not much else. The workdays are even longer than I’m used to. When Friday rolls around, it’s dark outside when I finally leave work.
My go-to activities to put a trying day behind me are going for a long run or hitting the gym. Usually I choose the run, as I prefer to be alone when I recharge. I could also throw myself into more work, this time doing something I actually enjoy. The London studio keeps asking me for help, clearly barely keeping afloat under Abbott’s rule. But right now, I’m not in the mood for any of that. Instead, I want to check on a certain brunette who’s taken over my life recently, hear her voice, ask how her day has been.
On the way to my car, I take out my phone, intending to call Alice, when I notice she sent me a text message a few hours ago, right af
ter I messaged her telling her all about what a joy my day was. Didn’t have time to check my phone afterward.
Alice: Oh no, I was hoping you were having a better evening than me. A customer just sent their order back to the kitchen for the third time.
She sent me the next message ten minutes later.
Alice: God, she sent it back a fourth time!!! I know the customer is king, but I really want to kick her out.
And yet another one almost an hour later.
Alice: Last message, I promise…. I couldn’t help it, I snapped at her. This day can’t be over soon enough. The only good thing was my trip to the senior center to bring them treats. Ms. Williams was asking about you. Wish I could see you today.
The second I finish reading, I decide to change my plans. We’d originally decided to meet tomorrow, but her wish is my command. Putting my own trying day on the back burner, I focus on what could light her up, turn this around for her. True, my mad seduction skills would take her mind off everything, but tonight I want to go the extra mile.
When I finally get to my car, an idea strikes me. Gunning the engine, I call her. She answers immediately.
“Hey,” she greets, and the background noise blares so loudly that my ear is ringing.
“You’re still at the restaurant?”
“Guilty. Since the day was such shit, I thought I’d stay here until closing time.”