Chapter 26
26
MAVERICK
I knock on Ransom's door, my mind buzzing with thoughts of Cadence and work, and Cadence and more work. I just need a few hours alone with her. No interruptions, no Nan. And I have no idea how I'm supposed to accomplish that. The muffled voices inside pause, and Ransom calls out, "Come in."
I step into the office, finding Nick already there with Ransom. The tension in the room's thick enough to cut with a knife. Ransom's brow's furrowed, his usual easy-going demeanor nowhere in sight.
"Everything okay?" I ask, glancing between them.
Ransom waves me in. "Just talking business. What's up?"
"It can wait. What's going on?"
Nick clears his throat. "I was just about to give Ransom an update on the Blair situation."
"And?" Ransom leans forward, his knuckles white as he grips the edge of his desk.
Nick shakes his head. "I went out there yesterday."
Ransom surges to his feet. "You didn't run that past me," he says accusingly. Every line in his body is tense, his fingers clenching and unclenching. This just got really fucking interesting.
Nick leans back in his chair, eyes wide. "Since, when do I run shit like that past you? My job is to get it done. Always. So why would this be any different?"
Ransom grunts and adjusts his cufflinks, then sits back down. Nick clears his throat, crosses his foot over his knee and continues. "Nice little town, but there's not much happening. Most of the businesses on Main street are boarded up. The garage is old, but it's in tip-top shape. There was a guy there, big motherfucker, not Blair, but he was pretty tight-lipped when he found out who I was. All he said is Blair isn't interested in selling, which we knew from the shot up contracts he keeps sending back."
Buying that garage started as Ransom's special project. I sent the offer and contracts out, figuring it would be an easy yes because he was offering way more than market value for the place. But when I got the contract sent back with a frowny face shot into it, I realized it wasn't the slam dunk I thought it would be. It escalated from there. "Don't forget the shredded contracts, or the ones covered in motor oil. Then, there was the glitter bomb that came with the last one. Sandy's still got glitter at her workstation."
"A fucking glitter bomb?" There's disbelief in his tone, yeah, but also a hint of…pride? Weird.
"Yeah. Looked homemade. It was damned effective." It also led to a five minute giggle fit in front of my assistant. She didn't find it so funny.
I have to open my own mail now.
"Shit," Ransom mutters, running a hand through his hair.
"What if we offer a higher price?" Nick suggests, leaning back in his chair. "Granted, the amount you're offering now is insane, but we could still go higher."
Ransom shakes his head. "We've already doubled the amount, and it didn't have an effect. Money's not going to do it."
"Maybe we could promise to keep the current staff?" Nick suggests tapping his fingers on his knee.
"That's a given," Ransom replies, running a hand through his hair. "We need something more compelling."
The ideas continue to fly, each one dissected and ultimately discarded. As the minutes tick by, the mood in the room grows increasingly tense, our collective frustration mounting with every dead end.
Finally, I can't take it anymore. "Ransom, why's this garage so important? The numbers don't add up. It's a shit investment, even at the original price."
The room goes quiet. Ransom stares at his desk, his jaw clenched. "I'm trying to keep a promise," he says finally, his voice barely above a whisper.
I exchange a look with Nick. There's clearly more to this story, but Ransom's not ready to share. The weight of whatever's behind this promise hangs heavy in the air. Am I curious? I sure as fuck am. But I'm not going to pry, for now.
"I have to assume that you know Blair, then? What would get him to sign?"
He hesitates, lips pulled tight. "That's the problem, brother. We're more likely to wake up tomorrow with fairy wings than get a signature on that deal."
"But you still want us to try?" None of this makes an ounce of fucking sense.
"Yeah, I do."
"Okay then," Nick says, slapping his knee. "We'll keep trying. If I ever get a chance to talk to him face to face, I'll get the signature. I promise."
Ransom shakes his head. "No face to face. We'll stay the course for now."
Nick and I trade glances, both of us with a 'what the fuck' look on our faces. This deal matters. He said so. He said he's trying to keep a promise. But he doesn't want us to go in person?
Shit, now all I want to do is get in my car and figure out who the hell this guy is. Peeling back a layer of Ransom's past suddenly feels very fucking necessary. Nick is obviously having the same thought, but finally he shakes his head and breaks the stare.
We're going to sit back, and let this play out…for now.
The room falls silent for a moment, and Ransom finally taps his fingers on the desk and looks at me. "So, Mav, did you have something you needed to talk about?"
I can't help it. The words just burst out of me like a dam breaking. "I need help with Cadence. She's fucking amazing. Like, seriously incredible. We've been on a few dates now, and every time I'm with her, I just... I'm a fucking goner. She's smart and funny, and she's got this way of looking at the world that just blows me away.”
I pause to take a breath, trying to rein in my racing thoughts. "But she's so damned busy at the rescue. And I'm working late, so it's almost impossible to find time together. And every time we try to have a moment alone, something comes up. A family emergency, work stuff, or Nan comes home. It's like the universe is conspiring against us getting any real one-on-one time."
Nick leans forward, fingers rubbing at his jaw. "What do you need, man? How can we help?"
I run a hand through my hair, frustration evident in my voice. "I just want one night. One uninterrupted evening where it's just us. No phone calls, no emergencies, no... anything. Just me and Cadence."
"We could get Nan out of the apartment for a night," Nick suggests. "Maybe put her up in a hotel, or get her to help babysit Mia?"
"No fucking way. I don't want to do that. It's her home too. I don't want her feeling like she can't be there or that she's in the way." Nan's eyes are softer now. Actually, everything about her is softer since we had that chat. Something about seeing that softness, and knowing it's there because I could provide a safe home for her, feels pretty damn great.
I want to see that same softness in Cadence. She carries a tightness in her, like she's keeping herself contained. Or like she's trying to be the perfect houseguest or something. It's frustrating, but I'm not ready to push it. She'll settle in soon enough. I'll make sure of it.
Ransom studies me, and thankfully, his features are more relaxed than a few minutes ago. "What about the extra apartment? We could set it up for a date. Nice table, candles, the works."
Nick snaps his fingers and points at Ransom. "Yes! Brilliant. We could even get a bed in there if you want."
I feel my cheeks heat up, images of Cadence and all her curves flashing through my mind. I want her desperately, but she matters too much to rush. "Whoa, let's not get ahead of ourselves. We're definitely not there yet. But the rest of it... a quiet dinner in a private space? That sounds perfect."
"It's mostly set up. We just need a few things to make it feel more homey. I'm sure Bree would help."
I should have called the women in earlier. Of course they'd help. They all love Cadence, and I think they all love me. They're rooting for us, just like I am. "That would be great."
Nick pulls out his phone and makes a call, his voice a low murmur in the background. I should get up and get shit done, but I don't. I just sit here, and let my mind drift to my favorite topic. Cadence. Nothing about spending time with her is getting old or routine. None of it. Not the way her eyes crinkle when she laughs at my terrible jokes, or the brush of her hand against mine as we make coffee in the mornings.
I didn't know I would crave those little moments. You always think about the big things in a relationship. Sex, kissing, grand declarations are important, yeah, but those little moments, a whispered thanks or a shared smile fill up that hole inside of me in a way I never expected.
My phone buzzes, and the moment is gone. An unknown number. Not uncommon, but my gut clenches anyway.
"Thanks," I mutter to my brothers, then head out the door as I bring the phone to my ear.
I answer the call, my gut already clenching. "Maverick Walker speaking."
"Mr. Walker?" A hesitant male voice comes through, his speech thickly accented. "I... I hope I'm not bothering you. I got your number from a friend. He said you might be able to help."
My heart sinks. I know where this is going, but I can't bring myself to shut it down. I never can. "What's the situation?"
The man launches into his story. It's a familiar tale - a negligent landlord, dangerous living conditions, threats of eviction. As he speaks, his voice trembles with a mix of anger and fear.
"The place is falling apart. There's mold everywhere, the stairs are rotting. My son fell through a step last week. And now the landlord's threatening to kick us out if we complain again."
I close my eyes, feeling the weight of his words. I know I shouldn't, I know I'm over capacity already, but before I can stop myself, I'm saying, "I'll help. Let's set up a time to meet and go over everything in detail."
"Thank you. Thank you! Bless you. I didn't know what else to do. Who else to call." His voice is thick with emotion, the tremble in it betraying how difficult the situation has been for him.
After hanging up, I turn, startled to find Zach standing behind me, eyebrow raised. "Another one of your charity cases?"
I bristle at his words. "They're not charity cases, Zach."
He crosses his arms, leaning against the wall. Of all my brothers, he's the most put together. He's always in a suit, his hair is always perfect, and he makes it look effortless. By the end of the day, I look like I've been hit by a hurricane. I try to stay a little more professional, but the longer the day gets, the more I start tugging at everything. My tie, my shirt, my hair.
"You're taking on cases for free. That's literally the definition of charity work, Mav."
"It's not-" I start, but stop, frustrated. I run a hand through my hair, trying to find the right words. "These are people who need help. Real help. They're not just cases or charity. They're families facing homelessness, kids living in dangerous conditions."
Zach holds up his hands. "I get it, man. I do. But what's wrong with calling it what it is? You're doing good work. Charitable work. Why does that bother you so much?"
I pause, his question hitting me harder than I expected. Why does it bother me? I open my mouth to respond, but I'm not sure what to say. Shaking my head, I move down the hall and push into my office, dropping into my chair. Zach drops into the chair in front of my desk.
"Why does it bother you so much?" he asks again. But there's a knowing in his eye that annoys the fuck out of me.
"You have an idea?"
"Yeah, I do. And if you slow down and think about it, you will too."
"I don't know what you're…aw fuck." Dammit, he's right. My mom and I lived in a series of shit apartments with even shittier landlords. And more than once I had to brush cockroaches off my bed before I could go to sleep. I remember arguments with landlords and tears. Even at five or six, I knew the way we were living wasn't okay. I heard other people talking about bugs, and being dirty. But we weren't dirty. Not ever. My mom tried her hardest, every damned time, but she was always outmatched and outgunned.
"There it is," Zach says, watching me carefully.
"Landlords that force people to live in filth deserve to be flayed alive."
"Agreed," he says simply, still watching me carefully. He always does this, and dammit, it always works. I wonder if he’s been reading Colton’s psychology books.
"They just keep calling. I don't know what else to do but help."
His eyebrows wing up. "Do you want a solution? Because we've brought this up before, and you always said it was fine. It doesn't look like you're fine anymore."
"It was fine. It was," I insist as he crosses his arms over his chest. "I had the time. Especially this year, things were changing. You guys were busy with the women, and it was fine. And I like having something to do, other than sit around and think about everything I don't have."
"Poor little billionaire," he says with a smirk. He drops it quickly though. "Seriously though, I hear what you're saying. But it's okay to outgrow something, and maybe you're outgrowing being Mister Fix It."
"That's Nick."
"Nah, man. That's always been you. You're the finesse guy. Nick's the hammer wrapped in charm. But you're always our first call, and you have been for a long fucking time. It's okay if it's getting old."
"That's my job, though. Who the fuck am I if I'm not the first call when you're in trouble?" I shrug out of my jacket and throw it on the edge of my desk, making a stack of files fall to the floor, spilling their contents. "Fuck."
I don't rush to pick it up and reorganize everything. I just stare at it, at the piles of paper that represent my life, and a wave of exhaustion washes over me. "I'm tired. But I want to be the first call if you guys are in trouble. Always. I won't give that up." I can't even imagine how badly things could go if Declan and Kade called Colton or someone else for help. My brothers aren't known for smoothing things over, and they don't even know the definition of finesse.
"So what are you going to give up? Cadence?"
"No fucking way."
"Then explain to me how a man who works eighty hours a week is going to make time for a relationship? The math doesn't math, brother."
This is not new information. I've been wondering the same thing, but I can't choose. I won't need to. I just need to get myself better organized. That's all. It's a systems problem, and I'll figure it out, just like I figure everything else out.
"I've got it under control," is what I settle on, and thankfully, other than a rough chuckle, Zach lets it drop. But he's not buying it, and I guess I don't blame him.
But I'll show him. I can have it all.