Chapter Two
B irch choked on his coffee, his coughing fit buying him a few seconds to think of a response that didn’t make him sound like some washed up thirty-one-year-old loser still hung up on his teen years. “Ah, yeah, a bit of both,” he replied sheepishly, gripping his mug and hoping for the distraction of a refill. “I mean, I’m kind of a wound up guy on the best of days. And you’re, well, you know, you’re Jocelyn Carter obviously. And around here, hanging out with a Baker is still considered social suicide, so…” He trailed off for a moment then smirked at her, hoping to lighten the mood before their meals came. “Plus, you’re smoking hot. Most guys probably lose a few brain cells whenever you walk by.”
“Social suicide,” she echoed, cocking a brow. “Are you worried about damaging my reputation or yours?”
Thanking the server as she set down their lunches, he scoffed. “Let’s just say one of us is a pariah around here, and it isn’t you. Doesn’t matter for how long you leave Epson, you return to the exact same position.” Not wanting to dwell too long on how low his position in town was while sitting across from the cream of the crop, he took a bite of his burger and changed the subject. “Speaking of returning, what brought you back?”
“Work,” she stated, eying her BLT with such hunger he envied the sandwich, briefly contemplating what it would be like to have the same unrestrained desire turned his way. “I do accounting for a firm based out of New Jersey and I need to be on site here to track down a number company, gather some information, and review it. Entertaining stuff, I assure you.” Taking a bite, she moaned in appreciation and his appetite for food disappeared, replaced by a completely different craving. “This is so damn good.” Her gaze zeroed in on his burger. “How’s yours?”
Setting it down, he grabbed his knife and sliced it, nudging half onto her plate. “Try it for yourself.”
She passed him the other half of her BLT and sampled the burger, pointing at it wordlessly and giving the thumbs up until she swallowed. The conversation turned to an easy back and forth about the new restaurants in town while they reminisced about old favorites that had closed down. He caught her up on the troubles the new east side subdivision was having with their water system and she explained the insanity of the New Jersey freeways.
Sighing as she finished the last of her BLT, she eyed his fries. “I swear Tracy must put some kind of drug in these. Or she has a deal going with the devil. I can’t go more than forty-eight hours from the moment my feet hit Epson before I’m chomping at the bit to eat here.”
“So I take it you just arrived? Is it a big job?” he asked, curious about how long she’d be in town, wondering how much free time she’d have, and knowing it wouldn’t matter because once this freak accident of a lunch was over, they’d both be returning to their respective sides of the town’s water tower.
She nodded, crossing her legs under the table and brushing her foot against his leg. “I drove in yesterday afternoon. Probably looking at eight to ten weeks to locate the business and get my hands on everything I need.” Stealing one of his fries without apology, she smiled. “The firm is paying for my suite over at The Hills Hotel, much to my parent’s utterly exaggerated heartbreak over my refusal to spend the next two months living ten feet down the hall from them.”
“You think they were hoping to put you on a curfew?” He grinned, slid his unfinished fries toward her, and pulled her uneaten rice closer.
She laughed and doused the fries in vinegar. “I don’t think; I know. It doesn’t matter how old I get, my parents still get squirrelly about me being out in the big, dark world after midnight, surrounded by ne’er-do-wells and hooligans.”
“They probably should’ve spent more time warning you about afternoon business lunches with tattoo artists you just met,” he suggested, once again very aware of the eyes darting over to them; the town’s gossip mill making its first creaking churn of its wheel. Sliding his finished plate aside, he ignored the steady buzzing of his phone in his pocket. “You might want to give them a heads up you were here with me before someone else does.”
She placed her napkin on her plate, tilted her head, and studied him while he resisted the urge to squirm under her scrutiny. Their server slid in with the bill and she snatched it away before he could make a move. Handing over her credit card, she put her elbows on the table and cupped her hands under her chin, her gunmetal eyes appraising him. “Tell me something, Birch Baker. Do you run?”
*
Jocelyn sat down on the sofa beside her dad and accepted the knitted blanket her mother passed her. “I’m so full I could cry,” she groaned, patting her stomach. “Why did you let me have seconds of the apple crisp?”
“Because you’re too thin,” her mom huffed, patting her leg. “It’s so good to have you home, sweetie.”
Her dad turned on the evening news, and her thoughts drifted back to Birch and his half-hearted promise to maybe meet up with her on the jogging trail that ran through the east side of town tomorrow morning.
“Mom? What do you know about Birch Baker?”
Her mother glanced over at her in confusion. “Why? Did you hear anything while you were out today?”
“No,” she replied slowly. “He actually helped me this afternoon and I took him for lunch as a thank you. He seemed nice.”
Her dad grunted but said nothing.
She could tell her mom was formulating her response, choosing her words carefully as she always did, even when indulging in the juiciest of rumors. “I don’t know much for certain, but some of the ladies at work have been to his tattoo shop and they said he’s polite. Rather quiet. I do know he spent a couple of years in prison a while back, though. It was all anyone could talk about after what happened with his older brother. You may want to be mindful about who you’re seen with, given your job.”
“Yeah,” she murmured, watching as the news anchors bantered back and forth. “He said I should tell you before someone else did.”
With a sigh, her mom began rocking her chair. “Well, it’s not a crime to have lunch with anyone. But those Baker boys do have a reputation around here, and for good reason.”
“The good reason being their waste-of-skin father,” her dad muttered, never turning his attention away from the TV.
“Matthew,” her mother admonished. “We don’t speak ill of the dead.”
“We sure as hell do when they’re Colton Baker. That man broke those boys, Janie. Left them to roam like feral animals—when he wasn’t beating on one of them. That hippie dippy mother of theirs wasn’t any better, leaving those kids for a boyfriend half her age when she had a baby still in diapers and to do what, chase rainbow fun ? Who leaves her children for a twenty-year-old and the chance at rainbow fun ?” Her dad glanced over at her. “I’ve heard decent things about Birch since he opened that shop, Jocelyn. Nothing too flattering about that Drayson guy he hooked up with to do it, but Birch has kept his head down since he got out.” He turned back to the television. “You’re a grown woman, so I won’t go telling you who you can and can’t talk to. Just know that every one of those Bakers is damaged goods. Damaged beyond repair, and they don’t need anyone else kicking them down. You’ll do well to remember that while you’re here.”
*
Birch squinted to try and read Ryder’s handwriting before giving up and adding the crumpled paper to the growing pile of invoices. “We need to move everything onto the computer,” he called over his shoulder to his partner. “Your chicken scratch is tearing my retinas.”
“Quit your bitching,” Ryder muttered, his focus on completing a sketch to add to his original works portfolio. “My last appointment should be here in a few minutes if you want to head out early. Just another piercing. I can lock up when I’m done.”
Glancing over at their jewelry case, he frowned. “Want me to put in a restocking order? You’ve had a lot come through this month.”
Ryder went quiet for a moment. “Yeah, it’s been busy. I’ll check the inventory tomorrow and let you know what we’re low on.”
With his head still stuck on the offer Jocelyn Carter made before she drove off, he exhaled and leaned back in his chair. “Sounds good. I’ll try to make it in before opening tomorrow to finish organizing this mess. I’m not feeling it tonight.”
“So who was this lunch with, anyways?” Ryder asked, running a hand over his shaved head while he examined his work. “You’ve been spaced out since you got back, and not in that post-sex way, so I know you didn’t take off to tap the new redhead over at The Corner.”
Clipping each stack together, he dropped them all into the drawer with a thud. “I’m going to ignore the fact you think you know how I look after getting laid.” He crossed the room to check out his partner’s latest lion art. “Don’t underprice that one. I’m guessing it would take at least six hours with the details on the mane.”
“Nice attempt to dodge the question.” Ryder grinned. “Who’d you meet up with? It wasn’t parole again, was it?”
Shaking his head, he checked his pockets for his keys, phone, and wallet on his way out the door. “Hell no. I’ve been done with that nightmare for months. Don’t forget the envelope beside the sink when you do the deposit run tonight.”
The door bounced closed behind him, silencing Ryder’s mutterings about him dodging the question again.
So, Birch Baker, do I make you nervous or are you always this tense?
Sitting in his truck, he called in a pizza order, knowing his youngest brother was likely pacing the kitchen at home cursing the nearly total lack of contents in their fridge.
Do I make you nervous?
Women didn’t make him nervous. He was a Baker, and for all the problems the Baker brothers had, women weren’t among them. But sitting across the table from Jocelyn Carter? Yeah, he was nervous. Although some of the guys he knew were suckers for sweet and demure, there was something about a strong woman that served as a powerful aphrodisiac to him.
And everything about Jocelyn was put together, bold, and confident. Including her attention.
While he was aware of every eye turning their way, she spoke to him as though he were the only person in the room. The pureness of her focus built a bubble around them, something he hadn’t noticed until they stepped outside and went their separate ways.
He missed it instantly.
And that? That made him nervous.
Firing off a text to Grey to let him know food was on the way, he turned onto the street.
Are you always this tense?
Of the four of them, he’d always been the most serious of his brothers. More calculated in his movements. He understood actions and reactions, ensured he knew the consequences before he chose his paths. His life to date wasn’t one any rational person would envy, but he’d been the one to plot every step of it since his early teens.
Pulling into his driveway, he tossed his truck in park and killed the engine, grinning when he saw Grey sitting on the steps, scanning the empty street in anticipation of dinner.
“A watched pizza never delivers,” he warned, joining his brother. “You get a decent start on that research paper?”
“All but one chapter in linear algebra. And I need to refuel before I even think about tackling it. Probably going to need your help, too.” His eyes lit up and he hopped to his feet as he spotted the telltale light of the delivery car’s sign. “How did work go today?”
Sliding his wallet out of his pocket, he passed over enough to his brother to cover the pizza and a tip. “Typical Monday, but with the added bonus of year end paperwork to sort.” He stood up with a groan. “I’ll get the table set and we’ll make a list while we eat so I can pick up groceries before I head in tomorrow.”
“Leave me the list,” his brother shot back over his shoulder, jogging down the driveway to meet the driver. “I can run out after my morning session.”
Holding the door while his brother cradled the pizza boxes with care, he shook his head. “No deal. If you’re having trouble with the linear class, I want you putting in an extra hour a day on it.”
Ignoring Grey’s huff of resignation, he collected the textbooks spread across the kitchen table and put them in a pile on the counter.
The younger two Bakers had one job and one job only: make it out.
River made it out of Epson three years ago, living the aspiring actor and model life in LA, his young influencer wife ensuring he was front and center on her social media pages twenty-four-seven. He packed his bags under Birch’s watchful eye immediately after Birch was released from prison. Armed with a one-way plane ticket and seven grand in cash tucked in his wallet, River got out from under the burden of his name, his path paved by his older brother’s sacrifices.
Of the four of them, Winter took the hardest hit, sparing the rest in the only way he could. Grey was nine when their father died and Winter was jailed, the only condition of his guilty plea resting on Birch being given uncontested guardianship over the younger boys.
It hadn’t been easy at eighteen, stepping into the roles of both dad and mom for a bitter fourteen-year-old and a skittish nine-year-old. But it had been a calculated move, a plan put in motion only when every piece was aligned. And with Grey expected to finish his doctorate in engineering in the next four years, they were in the final stretch.
Anything—or anyone—who could derail them now was a threat.
Shaking his head with a smile, he pulled the open pizza box away from Grey. “Were you raised by wolves? Use a damn plate.”
Mouth full, his brother rolled his eyes but obeyed. “Put pickles on the grocery list. And not those sweet ones. The garlic ones.”
With a slice of pizza in one hand and a pen in the other, he assembled a decent list for the morning, glancing over at his phone when it buzzed and seeing a message from a familiar number light up his screen. Flipping his cell over to hide it from his twenty-two-year-old brother’s prying eyes, he folded the grocery list and slipped it into his wallet while Grey cleared the table and slapped his linear algebra text down.
Hunching over chapter four, he ignored Jocelyn’s text reminding him of the route she’d be running in the morning.
He and Winter had survived this long, but River and Grey were going to do more than survive. And he wasn’t going to let the distraction of some gorgeous woman derail him from ensuring his younger brothers made it.