Chapter 17 #2
I turned to find him leaning in the doorway, arms crossed, a pensive look on his face.
“I feel like an asshole,” I admitted.
“Don’t.” He shook his head. “You weren’t wrong. And it’s not your job to solve everyone’s problems, Ry. You warned her about that job. Hell, we all warned her. She’s a big girl. It’s not your fault she didn’t listen and overextended her company. She’s mad at herself, not you.”
“Pretty sure it’s both.” Hazel didn’t have family other than Bill and us, and while we’d always included her as if she were blood, she’d see this as a banding together against her, even though we’d never do that. “I’m worried about her. Something’s up. And Tucker…”
Caleb shrugged. “If there’s something we don’t know, he’s got it buried deep. You know how he is.”
I did. He’d rather cut off a limb than let loose any real feelings. We were all like that, but Tucker was the master at hiding in plain sight.
“How are the cookies coming?”
“Guess.”
He grinned. “You’re so far gone.”
Shit. “I know.”
“We could make a store run and buy some.”
“You think Penny wouldn’t notice?”
Caleb snorted. “You’re going to actually show them to her?”
“That’s the idea.”
“Then good luck.” He cocked his head. “What else is wrong? You know, besides Hazel. And stupidly promising to bake cookies for a woman. It’s something.” This was why he was so good on the job. Instinct and intuition were his strongest traits. Right behind smart-assery.
“Tell me what to do to help,” Caleb said.
“Handle the stacks upon stacks of things on my to-do list?” I quipped.
“Sure. Where should I start?”
I shook my head. “I’m kidding.”
“I’m not.”
It was true. His eyes were completely serious. “You want to drown in the daily and mind-bogglingly tedious paperwork required to keep us running?” I asked in disbelief.
“I’ve always enjoyed the behind the scenes stuff Auggie used to do. Look, everyone knows you’re going insane in the office. Why not let me take some of it off your plate?”
“We tried this once before, remember? Three years ago, when you first offered to take on client relations because I was losing my ever-loving shit trying to keep up with everything.”
Caleb groaned.
“I had you meet up with one of our biggest potential clients for drinks when I couldn’t get there in time. Turned out he couldn’t either, and he sent in his CFO instead—his daughter.”
“Okay, to be fair,” Caleb said. “I was still in my dumbass era. When she hit on me, I was flattered. How was I supposed to know she was also very angry at her dad and looking to get back at him by sleeping with his business associates?”
“It shouldn’t have mattered—you don’t mix business and pleasure. It never works out. And sure enough, we lost that client.”
“I swear to you, I learned my lesson. Dumbass era long over.”
I looked at him. He looked at me right back. Honest. Open. Genuine.
“I’m here to stay, so give me more to do,” he said earnestly. “Lean into my strengths. I got you, Ry. And I won’t disappoint you again, I swear it.”
“You’re here to stay? Since when? I thought this job was just a placeholder for you, that you’d be champing at the bit to move on to something more exciting.”
“Hey, I love this field as much as you. You think I killed myself to major in architectural history with a minor in business —while also playing D1 hockey—for fun?”
“Truthfully? I thought you majored in architectural history because it was easy enough that you could play hockey at the same time.”
“Fuck you.” He added a shove, and it was only two decades of experience with his power that kept me on my feet. “You really want to stick,” I said, trying and failing to keep the hope dialed down. “With me?”
“I want to stick with Colburn Restorations. I’ll put up with you to do it.”
I couldn’t even joke about this. I’d had no idea how much it would mean, that he wanted to stay.
“Yes, I’m sticking,” he said, completely serious. “For as long as you’ll have me. But I can do more, Ry. Let me do more.”
Relief and gratitude hit me like a one-two punch. “You’re going to be sorry you said that.”
“No, I won’t. Because I’m expecting a big, fat raise.” He tried to peer into the bowl. I grabbed it so he couldn’t see in.
“I just want a peek,” he said, reaching his long-ass arm for the bowl.
I whacked his hand with the wooden spoon. “Back off.”
His gaze flicked up to something over my shoulder and he gasped dramatically.
I whipped around to find…nothing.
With a pleased chortle, the asshole known as my brother snagged the bowl and stared into it. “This looks like spackle. I mean, I’m no expert, but it looks too…lumpy.”
“Are you doubting my ability to make good cookies?”
“I’m doubting your ability to make even shitty cookies.”
I snagged the bowl back. “These are going to be the best cookies you’ve ever tasted.”
He slid me a look. “You hit your head today?”
“Shut up.” I checked the oven. Preheated, just as the recipe said. I read the next line on the recipe.
Drop one inch balls onto a cookie sheet .
Shit. I didn’t have a cookie sheet. Last week, I’d let Alex and Abi use it in the sandbox in my backyard and it was still there. I looked around, but the best thing I could come up with was a pot. Turning it upside down, I began to drop one inch balls onto the bottom of the pot.
“What the hell are you doing?” Caleb asked.
“I told you. Making cookies.”
With a grin, he hopped up onto the counter and opened another beer. “Forget the ball game. This is going to be much more fun.”