6. Gus
6
GUS
“Is that her?”
“No.”
“You didn’t even look!” Anton chastises me, smacking my bicep with the back of his hand.
Sure didn’t. Just like I didn’t look the last time he asked ten seconds ago. Or the time before that. Or the three times prior to that. Because this isn’t the junior high cafeteria. Even though that’s exactly what it feels like at the moment.
“I’m starting to think he’s not going to tell us even if it is,” Jace mutters, popping a fry into his mouth.
I look up at him, tapping my nose, glaring at him and letting him know he’s spot-on. I have zero intention of letting him know if Margeaux walks into the cafeteria, for a number of reasons. Not the least of which is that I won’t subject her to whatever nonsense these clowns have up their sleeves.
“Don’t worry, I’ll point her out,” Milo says.
“Don’t you have a bar to run? Or mash that needs…mashing? Or brew that needs…” I trail off, not knowing how to finish that one. The mash was hard enough. Hell, I’m not even sure my verb choice there was accurate. Milo raises an eyebrow, in sync with the corner of his mouth, his trademark sass rolling off him in waves.
“Brewing?” he offers.
I flip him the bird, narrowing my eyes at him as he laughs. It’s rare he joins us for lunch on campus these days, his time spent over at the brewery not lending itself to the casual “you eat yet?” one of us usually tosses in the other’s direction somewhere in the middle of the day. Today was no different. At least until he showed up. And there’s no doubt he’s here for one reason—and one reason only. He’s itching for a repeat of the other day.
“We haven’t had lunch all together in a while. Thought it’d be fun,” he says, winking at me.
“We lunch every Monday. And most Sundays at Magnolia Manor.”
I toss out the reminder of Sunday dinner at our parents’, just in case he’d somehow also forgotten the other family meal we attend on a semiregular basis. That one is less structured than Munch, and thanks to life getting in the way, we tend to rotate in and out more than our Mama, Miss Belle, would like, but we still see each other as a family plenty. No need for spontaneous quality time.
“Not in the Hayes caf we don’t,” Anton points out. “It’s like old times.”
Uggggh…
“That her?” Jace asks.
“That’s Morgan Russell,” I grind. “You’ve known her since kindergarten.”
Jace shrugs. “Never know.”
For the love…
I pull out my phone, needing some kind of distraction. Keeping it hidden under the table, I open up my texts, reading through my exchange with Margeaux from last night. As far as text exchanges go, it wasn’t anything glamorous or even all that exciting. Hell, it didn’t even last that long. Still, my heart skipped a beat every time her name popped up on the screen.
My thumbs ache to text her, but I don’t want to overstep. It was hard enough last night keeping it friendly and light, asking about her day and how work went, rather than sending her my address. Or asking if I could come pick her up. It’d be even worse now, interrupting her actual workday. I know how focused she is on her career and making a name for herself. One more thing that makes her so damn irresistible.
Last thing she needs is me interrupting her.
“Couldn’t help but notice how old Airport Bar Angel is…” Milo comments, pulling my attention back to the group.
“Margeaux. Her name is Margeaux.”
I try to keep my voice even and calm, but I fail. Because there is no denying that stutter of my pulse each time I say her name. And I know my brothers hear it.
“Oh God,” Anton says, his interest clearly even more piqued. Damn it, we need to get him a hobby. “Is she old? Tell me she’s not old.”
“She’s thirty-one,” I snap.
Same age as our sister…
“Nine years younger than you, August,” Milo tsks. Even without the use of my full name, or his sassy tone, I know exactly where this is going. “That’s a hell of an age gap. You sure that’s a good idea?”
And there it is. Using my own words against me. Fucker.
Can’t say I don’t deserve it. I gave Milo a hell of a time this past summer when he took up with Brenna Rawlins, who is twelve years younger than he is, telling him I didn’t think it was a good idea. To be fair, it wasn’t just the age difference, although that did play a large part in it. The fact that her brother is his best friend and business partner was the other part of it. Turns out I was wrong there on both counts.
“It doesn’t matter; she’s a Hayes employee.”
I steal a fry from Jace’s plate, swiping it through the large pool of ketchup before popping it into my mouth. I chew slowly, as if each movement of my jaw massages the regret I feel a little more. I managed to fuck up a chance encounter with the most perfect woman I’ve ever met, only to have her show up in Hickory Hills and be my employee. I don’t know what I did to piss off karma this badly, but I’d like the chance to buy her a beer and apologize.
“So?” Jace and Anton counter in unison.
I stare back at them, continuing to gnash the fry between my teeth, leaving their reaction hanging in the air. So? So? They can’t be serious. Yet, the way they’re looking at me tells me they most certainly are.
“She’s a Hayes employee,” I repeat, as if I was somehow unclear the first time. I know I wasn’t, but maybe this time it will penetrate their thick skulls.
“What’s your point?” Jace gestures outwardly with his hands, as if my statement still doesn’t mean a damn thing to him.
“Seriously?”
“There isn’t actually a rule against that,” Anton replies. “We have lots of couples who work here. My production manager, Alex—his wife, Marisela, is the seasonal employee coordinator. And the gal who runs the quality line, Kristie—her husband, George, works for Hux over at the mill. Mary and Bill on my sorting line? They’ve been married for longer than I’ve been alive, and Kurt, who actually just started working with Cary on the new hybrid of pecans, is engaged to a girl in accounting. ”
“Hickory Hills isn’t that big, dude, and we employ, like, half the town,” Jace adds.
I look between my younger brothers, my brain processing what they’re saying. On the one hand, they aren’t wrong. We are the largest employer in Hickory Hills and if I stop and think about it, I can name a number of married couples who work here, on top of the ones Anton already rattled off. Some even in the same department. Actually, now that I’m putting legitimate brain power into this, if I recall, Hux actually has an entire family working for him.
There’s one major difference.
“None of them are a Hayes.”
It’s a simple statement of fact. One that they can’t refute. Like it or not, the rules are different for us. That’s something that Auggie taught us from a young age. We are held to a different—often times higher—standard, all because of our last name. It means something. People expect things from us.
Like not dating our employees.
“Me and Brenna?” Milo snarks, throwing his arms out wide as he sits back in his seat. He looks smug, like he just threw down a full house of kings and aces in a game of poker, wiping the table clean.
“Brenna’s not a Hayes employee. Although did you bring that paperwork to legal? Are we bringing the drugstore under the Hayes umbrella?”
Milo waves me off, as if my legitimate work question has no place here. Sorry for being logical.
“That’s where you’re wrong, Gus.” He shakes his head. “Brenna Heidi Rawlins is too on the Hayes payroll. I woulda thought you’d know this.” He chuckles, clearly enjoying that he has one up on me. “Patrick insisted she fill out all the paperwork and be an on-the-books employee before he would let her help out behind the bar. That way even if we weren’t paying her and she was just volunteering, we were covered. Workman’s comp and all that bullshit.”
I bite my tongue, having to stop myself from making a comment about how it’s good to know he was not only screwing the little sister of his best friend and business partner, but his employee . Because as epically a bad decision as that was, I know he’s only going to tell me it’s the best one he’s ever made.
So I keep quiet.
Instead, I look back down at my phone. The Hayes logo glares back at me, my screensaver muted from the lack of notifications. The itch to text Margeaux is even stronger now, but I need to resist. I don’t even know that she’d want to date me. Not after I didn’t call. She was able to walk away and never talk to me again. And I can’t blame her there. So it would be a lot to assume that she would agree to go out with me. Frankly, I’m lucky she agreed to be friends.
“It’s not like she works directly for you,” Anton says. “So, what’s the worry?”
What is the worry? How do I explain this? I know that no matter what I say, they won’t understand. They’ll think that I’m being too uptight and hardheaded. Maybe I am. Still, there is something inside me that is telling me that as the executive vice president of this company, it’s not right to date our newest hire. Even if I can’t stop thinking about her.
“She’s focused on the job. And I respect that.”
It's an excuse. I know it. They know it. But it’s better than admitting the truth—that I’m too afraid to find out if she’s even still interested in me.
“Just go talk to Carl in HR. As long as he knows about it, you’re fine,” Jace says, his attention turned back to the door. “That her?”
“No,” I answer, not looking up. Just go talk to Carl. Maybe I should. At least find out my options. Just in case there’s a chance that more than friends could be on the table.
“She’s a redhead,” Milo says.
“Milo!”
He lifts his shoulder without a care, slugging back some water. Okay, it’s time to end this lunch. I need to get back to work. Need to think about something—anything—other than Margeaux. Because if I let myself, she would be all I thought about.
Pushing to my feet, the buzz of my phone stops me midrise. Logically I know it’s work. Statistically, I have a better chance of being related to the person on the other end of whatever message was just sent to me than not. Still, hope hangs in the air like a plume of smoke, surrounding me, permeating everything. To the point where I’m afraid to look.
My brothers, on the other hand, have zero issue interfering.
“Is it her?”
“It’s Airport Bar Angel, isn’t it?”
“Margeaux!” I correct them, sitting back down. Please don’t let them call her Airport Bar Angel to her face…again…
Inhaling deeply, I prepare for disappointment. Because again, this is going to be work. That’s how my life goes.
Margeaux
Hi
Holy shit.
“It’s her…” Anton mutters.
His voice is a million miles away and fading with each second. He continues to say something, but I have no idea what it is, my entire focus on the small screen.
Hi
Margeaux
So, are friends allowed to ask friends for dinner recommendations? My kitchen still isn’t fully unpacked and I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but I think I’ve had my fill of pizza
I smile, chuckling to myself.
they most certainly are. I assume you’ve been warned off the Kountry Kitchen?
By you and others
Unfortunately, Dolly’s is only open for breakfast and lunch, but there are a couple places in the next town over I can recommend.
“Dude, Drafts and Dig In!” Milo exclaims.
I jump, nearly knocking him over in the process. I was so dialed into my conversation with Margeaux I hadn’t realized he was peering over my shoulder.
“We’ve got the food truck coming to Pour Decisions tonight,” he continues. “She can come hang out with us.”
“No.” I push to my feet, shaking my head as my thumbs start back at the keys. I will not be sending her to the wolves. “Not what she asked for.”
“She asked for dinner. Food trucks are dinner.”
I flip him the bird and walk away from the table. Should I mention Drafts and Dig in? Probably. But I’m not going to. Instead, this is my chance to learn a little more about her.
Are you a fan of tacos?
Isn’t everyone?
Bingo…