Chapter 23
LANDON
Istumbled into the warehouse about ten minutes late, because the server guy had dragged me aside to shove his personal laptop into my hands and give me a list of complaints that amounted to “it’s old and it’s slowing down, fix it.”
The laptop wasn’t just old, it was ancient, in laptop terms. The thing had to weigh ten pounds, and I was convinced it was going to be less a matter of fixing it than replacing it with something that had been created in the last decade.
Funny how even tech people could sometimes get overly attached to things that were past their use-by date.
Julia made a weird, warbly high-pitched noise as I came into the room, and no one looked at me, which was . . . weird.
“Something wrong?” I asked, still distractedly trying to juggle my own bag and the oversized heavy laptop.
Then I noticed my desk.
My desk, that had a cup of coffee and a little paper bag on it.
My desk, that smelled, ever so faintly, of Dean.
“Turns out panthers are just like house cats,” Victor murmured, to titters from everyone else.
I lifted a brow at him, and he flushed and ducked his head. “I mean, um . . .”
“He means your kitty cat left a dead bird on your desk for you,” Julia interrupted, fearless as usual, giving me an insouciant grin. “He wants to make sure you’re taken care of and all that jazz.”
“It’s sweet,” Victor mumbled. “Less scary than werewolf courting.”
Which was fair, I’d seen enough werewolf courting to know that it was all very dramatic and overwhelming. I preferred to have a coffee left on my desk than someone buying me a house without asking my input, and then being horrified when I said it wasn’t the neighborhood I wanted to live in.
People called cats prima donnas, but at least we weren’t quite as melodramatic as werewolves.
I dumped the laptop on the corner of my desk and gave my coffee a sniff. Perfect cappuccino. And in the bag, an almond croissant.
Since Dean had started making his own time for his career, he’d been pleasantly surprised.
Local places were still giving him the credit he’d built up over his years in the band, but now that he didn’t have to schedule around everyone else’s jobs and lives and plans, he was steadily booking more work than he’d ever had before.
He was hesitating, because he wasn’t in music for fame, but he was even starting to get music executives sniffing around at his shows because of his surge in popularity.
My boyfriend, the musical genius.
Who left breakfast on my desk.
I smiled, and took a sip of my coffee. Yes, things were looking up quite nicely.
I flipped my own laptop open, checking through my morning emails, to find one from my mother sitting there in my Crescent account.
Sighing, I rolled my eyes, and without even looking at it, I clicked the button to block the sender, then put the message into a folder I’d made specifically for the purpose. It made the trifecta, since my brother and father had both already emailed me.
Apparently Geoff had told them where to find me after he hadn’t gotten what he’d wanted out of the trip to see me.
Also, apparently Geoff had cheated on my brother, so the wedding was off.
Shocking, a cheater cheating.
Never would have expected that at all.
“Hey Landon,” a voice called from the doorway—Lucas.
I looked up at him, lifting a brow. “Shouldn’t you be working? Your mother won’t approve if you have to stay late and miss the first half of dinner. Again.”
He huffed and scowled at me. “I was just making sure you remembered family dinner was tonight,” he finally mumbled in return. “I swear she likes you better than her own sons.”
I picked up my coffee and held it up as though to toast him. “That’s because I arrive on time. And I bring wine.”
His expression turned entirely serious at that, and he glanced down at the coffee, then meaningfully back up at my face. “No, it’s because you dragged her oldest out of a giant black hole.” He winced and looked away. “And she’s thrilled to have a third son who isn’t a dramatic bastard. I guess.”
I couldn’t hold back the laugh at that. “It’s okay, Lucas. Mom would never say you’re a dramatic bastard.” His eyes narrowed in suspicion—as they should. “Dean’s the dramatic bastard. You’re just an annoying brat.”
He made a fake-angry face, and turned away, flipping me off as he went. “See if I help you avoid pissing Mom off ever again.”
“I would never piss Mom off,” I called back. “I’m her favorite, remember?”
Lucas continued to wave his middle finger in my direction as he marched off, and my whole department laughed.
I had to remember to grab a bottle of wine for her on the way to dinner that night. Also, maybe some chocolate cake for Lucas. He was pretty much the best brother a guy could ask for, it turned out.
Plus my whole adopted family had a hell of a sweet tooth, so they sure wouldn’t mind.