Chapter Eleven
B irch leaned over the engine of Grey’s old car and put a little extra muscle into unscrewing the final spark plug. “That’s the last of them,” he grunted, as he tugged a rag from his back pocket and wiped the grease from his hands. “I should be able to get those new ones in there before sunset. How’s the oil looking?”
Grey shimmied out from under the car, filthy from the waist up. “Drained, sealed, and ready to add the fresh.” He got to his feet and blew at a long strand of chestnut hair that had escaped his haphazard ponytail. “Where’s the jug?”
“Back of my truck. Could you grab my phone, too? I left it on the front seat.”
Birch tore open the first package of plugs and slipped one into his pocket, then ducked back under the hood and screwed in the first one.
Keeping Grey’s car in working condition was his top priority this evening.
Not checking his phone obsessively to see if Jocelyn found more evidence of Ryder screwing him over.
And definitely not checking to see if she reached out to him for any other reason.
He was a mess by the time he left her hotel room hours earlier. His contingency plans were shifting with every new piece of information. Potential complications were saved in his mind for consideration tonight when he was alone in the dark with time to think. Thoughts of returning to prison were in the forefront, regardless of Jocelyn’s assurances that she saw nothing illegal.
Yet.
And that, he could handle.
He could work with the most likely scenarios, start putting things into place around him to prop up Grey and River when he was taken down. He’d learned from his mistakes the first time, and had already done most of the legwork to rectify those past errors during his initial weeks of freedom.
Grey’s name was attached to each utility, his access to Birch’s bank account secured. All deposits and withdrawals were automatic, eliminating the chance of late payments and extra fees. He kept a list of passwords on his laptop, alongside a detailed breakdown of expenses and due dates for insurances, tuition, and taxes. Grey and River were both named on the title of the house. And Grey was well-versed on where the stashes of money were stored around their home.
If he was hauled off tomorrow, the most pressing of issues would be taken care of this time.
Because he understood the worst-case scenario. He knew the path intimately.
What he couldn’t handle was Jocelyn’s gentle optimism.
“This isn’t the worst-case scenario, Birch.”
People like Jocelyn didn’t understand why the worst-case scenario was the most critical one to prep for. Why it was the only one to prep for. They didn’t know how damaging false hope could be, how much destruction was caused by falling without a safety net. Being ready for anything had put him in the position he was in now, his younger brothers securing their footholds on a life he and Winter hadn’t dared pretend to imagine themselves in. He and his older brother weren’t people like Jocelyn, and they never would be.
But a part of him wanted to believe her.
Those steel eyes that had hardened with such laser precision as she examined the receipts scrawled in Ryder’s handwriting were so earnest, so sincere when she held him in place with the gentle touch of her hand.
Until that moment, he was wholly focused on what he knew.
And deviating from that was a risk he wasn’t sure he could afford to take.
Easing the socket off of the fourth plug, he grabbed the last package and walked around the car. “Grey? Did you find my—”
He stopped cold, his thumb embedded in the cardboard pack as he saw his brother at the end of the driveway, leaning nonchalantly against the tailgate of Birch’s truck. Grey’s arms were crossed and flexed just enough to show off the Baker physique without looking too obvious while he chatted up the stunning blond in tight jeans and an oversized tank top that gaped at the side, showing off a turquoise bra underneath.
“Hey, Birch.” Jocelyn smiled at him, placing her hand on Grey’s forearm. “Your brother was just telling me you two haven’t had dinner yet.”
Grey cocked a brow at her hand on his own arm and gave his brother a shit-eating grin. “That’s right. Birch has been cracking the whip and starving me mercilessly, but we’re almost done.”
Deciding his younger brother hadn’t received a decent beatdown in a few years, he added it to his to-do list, walked over to them, and hauled the jug of oil out of the truck. “Go make yourself useful,” he ordered, swinging the oil against Grey’s stomach and shoving the remaining spark plugs roughly into his chest. “And remember who digs the graves around here.”
Grey recovered quickly, flashing Jocelyn a dimpled smile as he strode back to the car. “This old man buries two hamsters eight years ago and he thinks he’s a gangster.”
Stepping between Jocelyn and his brother’s line of sight, he lowered his voice. “Are you here on business or just to test your ability to stand strong against Grey’s irresistible charm?”
“Charming as your silver-tongued brother is, I prefer my Baker boys to be a little more dark and brooding.” She looked up at him and that unsettling whisper of hope slammed into his chest again. “I found seven more questionable receipts and flagged them. Once I finish the expenses, you and I can review them before I move onto the invoices.” Reaching up, she ran her thumbs across his forehead, her soft touch erasing his scowl. “But not tonight. Tonight, dinner’s on me, if you’re okay with me hanging out for a few hours.”
It took every ounce of control he had not to toss her over his shoulder, carry her up to his room, and put the springs of his mattress to the test. Everything about her promised a respite from his reality and his future, from her unspoken reassurances to her gentle hands. And he wanted the escape as bad as he wanted to fight it and stay in his familiar zone of survival above all else.
“Birch?”
His name on her lips made the decision for him, and he took her hands with the rationalization that the few moments of happiness he could grasp now would carry him through whatever landed at his feet later. “Only under a couple of conditions,” he stated, stepping closer to her. “One, I’m buying dinner. Two, you stay long enough to watch at least one movie. And three, you sit beside me during the movie, not Grey.”
*
Jocelyn bit her lip as Grey squeezed between her and Birch on the sofa, catching the younger Baker’s smirk when the older one growled a low protest.
“Fine, fine,” Grey relented, getting to his feet as the opening credits ran. “I hate to eat and run, but apparently I have studying to do that I can only do in a room far enough from the living room to avoid overhearing anything my young, innocent ears shouldn’t be exposed to.” Giving her a winning smile, one she was certain had already won over women from eighteen to eighty, he flipped off Birch. “Great meeting you, Jocelyn. When you tire of being the sunshine to this cloud over here, I’ll be in the second bedroom to the left, just up the stairs.”
As Birch’s foot kicked out toward his leg, Grey hopped over the arm of the sofa and bounded up the stairs with a shouted promise to stay away.
“Sorry about that,” Birch grumbled, settling back. “I’d say he was raised by wolves, but I think wolves might have done a better job in the manners department.”
She stretched her legs across his lap and snuggled deeper into the thick cushions. “You did a damn fine job. He’s a sweetie.” When he glared at the TV, she tapped her knee against his chest. “Personally, I prefer my guys salty. But I’m sure some lovely woman will be swept off her feet by your smooth-talking brother.”
He scoffed, but his dour expression relaxed as one hand rested on her ankle and the other between her knees.
Seeing Birch in his home alongside his brother was fascinating to her. Although he retained some of that tension he wore like an armor in the outside world, he was less guarded, almost playful around Grey as they cleaned the grease off their hands and set the table. While Grey attempted to draw her onto his side of the appetizer argument, Birch held his own while he collected the textbooks lying around the living room, interjecting quick questions about research papers and assignments.
Those moments of quiet authority captivated her, seeing the natural shifts Birch made from being Grey’s brother to his parental figure. Their lighthearted banter was peppered with comments about chores and study schedules, the leftovers from their dinner condensed into plastic containers with strict instructions for Grey to remember to grab them before school in the morning.
Knowing Birch raised his younger brother impressed the hell out of her. Seeing how good of a job he did blew her away.
The Baker genetics were as strong in Grey as they were in Birch and River. The kid was tall, muscled, and chiseled. His face was almost a carbon copy of Birch’s, save for the dimple in his right cheek when he smiled. His hair was a lighter shade of brown, thick and long enough to border on wild. But for all the seriousness his face held when he ran down his upcoming assignments, his smile came easier than Birch’s, his expressions more open and unguarded.
Birch truly had done a fine job raising him.
And damn if she didn’t find that sexy as hell.
When the movie came to an end she reluctantly swung her legs off his lap. “I better head out. I want to get an early start tomorrow.”
He followed her out to the veranda, pulling the door closed tight behind him. “Thanks for coming by tonight,” he said quietly, taking her hand and walking her to her car. “I know this situation is all kinds of messed up. Is there a chance you could get in trouble for this?”
Slowing as they approached her car, she looked up at him. “Definitely not for talking to you.”
“What about for kissing me?” he asked, stepping closer to her and placing his hands on her hips. “Because I really want to kiss you again. But if there’s a chance you could lose your job—”
Reaching up, she ran her hand through his hair and trailed her thumb along the collar of his shirt. “Would you be okay with me being ninety-nine percent certain?”
His grip on her hip bones tightened for a moment before he let out a low groan and looked to the sky. “Have a good night, Jocelyn. I’m going inside to hate myself for a bit now.”