Tuck gestured to himself. “I’m a sweaty mess, Brax.” He’d come back from a long run and immediately gone to his gym to box, losing track of time as he slugged it out with a punching bag.
He was drenched in sweat and if the pinched expression on Braxton’s face was any indication, he smelled as bad as he feared. “You’ve got to stall her, let me shower quick.”
“Um, well.”
Tucker couldn’t help but smile. He loved seeing Brax disconcerted.
“What do you suggest I do?”
“Give her a tour of the house. No, wait, I’m supposed to do that.” He was racking his brain to remember all the stuff his PR people told him. Why couldn’t he have invented something like Apple or be a real estate investor? Nobody seemed to care that Steve Jobs or Donald Trump were jerks, but supposedly Tuck needed a welcoming image because Friend Zone was a social site.
“See if she likes books. Let her read for a few minutes.”
“Books?”
“I don’t know. Offer her tea and crumpets or something. What do I pay you for Brax?”
Braxton cracked a half smile. “Not very much,sir.”
“Exactly. One of the few times I have people over and you need to do your job.” Tucker smiled. Braxton was an adopted grandfather, a former family practitioner, and worth almost as much as Tucker because of the companies Tucker had started in the old man’s name. Braxton and Johnson thought it was funny to play butler and guard when they had an unsuspecting guest and bet on which one of them was more believable.
“I will try.”
Braxton pivoted to leave.
“Wait, Brax. What’s she like?”
Braxton tilted his head to the side. “Different than expected. Snarky, warm, and very, very beautiful.”
He walked away and Tuck sat there for a few seconds wondering what she’d done to make Braxton describe her as snarkyandwarm. Johnson was supposed to greet her at the gate, he thought about calling to get his friend’s impression, but he didn’t have time.
No matter how his PR people begged, he liked the life of a recluse. Well, not really a recluse as he had his three best friends. He’d gone through his teenage years as a chubby foster child. None of his families seemed to dislike him, but no one but Braxton had ever cared much about him either. He despised people who thought he was someone to fuss about now that he’d grown a foot, shed the fat, and was worth over a billion dollars.
Tuck jogged through the basement, past the theater, entertainment room, and indoor pool. He tried to sneak up the stairs so she couldn’t hear him coming and investigate. Hurrying through the foyer so he could ascend to the third floor which only housed his rooms, he couldn’t resist peeking into the study. A small woman with a cascade of blonde curls stood next to his bookshelf with a Baldacci novel in hand. Hmm. He couldn’t see her face clearly, but someone who was interested in Baldacci couldn’t be too bad, could they?
ChapterTwo
Mr. Braxton returned with a tray of tea, coffee, and pastries. Maryn had lost herself for a few minutes inThe Last Mileby David Baldacci. She loved that book. Now her stomach was churning too much to eat anything. Where was this guy? She’d been here for over fifteen minutes and was beginning to wonder if he planned on speaking to her at all. Typical rich jerk, thought everyone was just waiting around for him all day.
She shook out her hands and focused on snapping a few pictures of the office. If only Mr. Shaffer had allowed a camera crew to accompany her. Her paltry skills at photography would have to do.
“My apologies, ma’am. Mr. Shaffer will be joining us shortly.”
“You sure about that?”
He cleared his throat. “Um, yes, ma’am. Can I offer you some tea?”
She hid a smile. This guy had missed his era and continent. He should’ve lived in eighteenth century England.
“No, thank you. Water would be heavenly though.”
“But of course. Sparkling, bottled, or tap?”
“Is the tap good?” Being raised in Southern California, she’d hated the tap water and remembered begging her mom to put flavor in hers. Now she drank bottled.
“It is lovely, ma’am, straight out of a mountain spring.”
“Oh? Tap sounds fabulous.” She’d never had water from a real mountain spring, only the promises of one from The Fresh Water Man.