Chapter 2
LAWSON
The day I took the job for Cole Carlson, I knew I’d traded my soul for money. Today was the first time I actually saw evidence of that unfold in real time. And I stood there . . . not saying a damn word. I push the iron up for another rep. Fire burns through my shoulders and biceps.
I hold the weight, letting it burn every fiber in my arms.
Good, I deserve it.
I chose Human Resources to help people get a fair chance, and there was nothing fair about today. After years slogging away at a double major, being the only son of four to head to college instead of staying home on the ranch or signing up for the army, I was desperate to prove myself.
So, a business degree with management and human resource electives was my choice. Fat lot of good that did in Carlson’s office today. Fairness didn’t even have a chance to raise her timid head in that stifling, toxic room that may as well have resembled a tundra of marble and chauvinistic ego.
“Someone’s quiet tonight.” Miles throws me a sideways glance as he settles onto the machine to my left.
His bulky size from working out for his day job as kitten rescuer means he’s wedged into the machine.
We started college together, but hitting the books made him restless.
Running into burning buildings is apparently more his style.
“Shit day,” I utter.
He raises an eyebrow.
“Yeah, yeah. I know. Nothing life or death. Only the justice of the world and my conscience battling.”
He chuckles before settling into his first rep. Shoulder press. Probably lifting my entire body weight, let’s be honest.
“Hey, I have the easy job. Follow orders, save the day. Don’t die. You, my friend, dance with the devil. That will always have you trapped in here.” He points to his temple and lifts another rep.
His square jaw clenches. His biceps and shoulders strain with the weight, but the cheek in his brown eyes doesn’t waiver as he blows me a kiss.
“Fuck off, Milo.”
I lift another rep.
He eyes my form before starting his reps again. “You know, if you ever get sick of dancing with Satan, the FDNY would take you on.”
I chuckle at him now. “Yeah, sure, bud. I think I’ll leave you to the hero work.”
His machine returns to base, and his hands fall from the grips, his gaze squaring with mine. “You don’t think HR is important?”
“Of course I do. But my ability to help people is . . . limited. At least it is in Carlson’s particular realm of hell. And what am I doing for the big picture, you know? Celebrities don’t exactly need more people on their side.”
“I’ll bet the people that have to work for them do, though.”
I hang my head.
Yeah, they do.
And I failed them miserably today.
When I joined the business world, my father told me that careers were built on the backs of others.
I’d always assumed that meant leaders paving the way for their teams. In the last few hours, I have come to realize that he meant men like my greed-driven boss standing on the backs of others, crushing souls and breaking bones to build his bank balance and his reputation as the biggest shark in town.
Or city. New York City. We’re not in Kansas now.
It will never sink in that I’m not the naive young guy who left Montana. At almost thirty-eight, I have an Upper East Side apartment, a career I love and, up until today, have been proud of and worked my ass off for. It’s a far cry from ranching. That’s always been my brothers’ thing, not mine.
Besides, I look better in a suit.
My arms fail. The gym machine whines, then the plates crash down, and the guy on the leg machine to my left slides an annoyed look my way.
Yeah, me and you both, bud.
Fuck today.
Six ways to fucking Sunday, as my brothers would say.
“Let’s finish up, hey,” I say to Miles. He wipes his brow and neck, tossing his towel onto his shoulder.
“I just hope Lamont opens and responds to the email I sent her.” I sigh, wiping the sweat from my face.
I’m not worried about Carlson pinning me for holding him and his gutter tactics accountable.
I can find another job if I have to. Hell, I’ve had more than my share of fresh starts in this city that never sleeps.
From wanting to escape questionable bosses to needing a pay raise to keep my apartment.
I can adapt to almost anything. A trait I share with my father.
“She’ll be fine, I’m sure. Anyone who can earn the corner office in Carlson’s world can handle themselves.” Milo gives me the ‘you know I’m right’ look.
“Guess so.”
I do three more reps and wipe down the machine in the small gym before walking out into the night air, two blocks from my apartment. Miles falls in beside me, looking around, always aware of his surroundings. Should have been a cop.
“Grabbing takeout tonight? The game’s on, if you’re up for it?” I ask.
“Nah, up early. Shift tomorrow.”
One of his twenty-four-hour shifts. Don’t know how they do that shit.
“All good, bud. Catch you on the flip side.” I raise a fist, and he smashes his to mine.
“Night, Laws.” His wide smile brightens his face, as it always does. “Don’t stress over it, hey? It’ll work itself out.”
Always the optimist, my best friend. Of the three guys that make up my circle, Miles is always the one to lift us up when things go sideways. It’s no small wonder he’s FDNY’s bravest.
Me, I’ll be at war with my version of injustice into the middle of the night, no doubt.
If the position wasn’t keeping me in my apartment and I didn’t have barely a month in this job under my belt, I’d move on.
Then someone else could ignore the rules, bend the business institutional codes for Carlson’s wicked ways. I’m sure their bottom line would be better off without me.
Because the second Lamont opens that email, she’ll have all she needs to hand the old man his own ass on a silver platter on the grounds of blatant sexism, unfair dismissal, inequality, not to mention the loss of her assistant.
That was a curveball not even I saw coming.
That office has always had an executive assistant, if the company records are correct. And Carlson had no grounds to terminate her position, either.
Ageism.
Oh, and the list keeps getting longer . . .
I hope she makes use of the legal recommendations I made. For women everywhere, she should.
I make my building and push through the door after entering the code.
Traipsing up the three flights of stairs to my apartment, I am lost in my head when the squeals reach my ears.
Gripping my gym bag, I look up just as wild brown eyes and blonde hair fly at me.
Then, a megawatt smile topped with the prettiest damn freckles and curly brown hair falls in beside her, and I’m smothered by two of my favorite people in the whole world.
Exactly what I need right now.
“Laws!” Ruby hugs me so damn tight, I choke out a laugh as Addy dots a kiss to my cheek.
But someone’s missing . . .
“Where’s Gracie?”
“Mack wouldn’t let her drive with us. Apparently, her condition means she flies in style. I’ll pop over and pick her up in a few hours.” Ruby holds me at arm’s length. Her brows fall.
Adds tilts her head, a hand gravitating to her hip. “Laws, what’s wrong?”
“Long day is all.” It’s then I notice their bags by my door.
Ruby gives me her best ‘stop with the bullshit’ look.
“Come on. Let’s get you two inside.” I shove the key into my door and open it. I toss my bag inside and pluck up theirs. They follow me in, making themselves at home like they always do. And, damn, I’m so grateful for them today.
“I didn’t know you guys were coming,” I say, placing their bags in my room. I’ll take the sofa, as always.
Adds turns back, frowning. “It’s been planned for three months, Laws. This new job is consuming you. Need to talk about it?”
Fuck.
How did I forget three of my favorite people were coming?
Carlson really is messing with my head.
“You know what you need?” Ruby pulls her jacket off and leans into my shoulder.
“What, Rubes?” I say with a laugh.
“Wine—or whiskey, in your case—and a good laugh.”
She’s not wrong.
“Let me shower first, okay?”
“Sure thing, then we’re watching something hilarious. Feel free to get drunk.” Rubes winks at me.
I roll my eyes at the woman who turned my little brother’s life around. My little brother who, in return, gave her the family she’s been missing all those years.
“I’ll make you a snack. Go, go!” Adds wanders into the kitchen. With a daughter of her own now, she’s almost as bad as Ma. But you’ll never hear me complain about either woman.
“Thanks,” I breathe.
I wander to the bedroom and into the en suite. The din of laughter, clinking glasses, and kitchen noises fills my home. Well, apartment.
It’s never really been a home.
The sound of my family here bolsters my spirits like it always does.
I shower quickly and throw on a T-shirt and sweats, not worried about impressing the girls; they’ll no doubt be in their PJs the second Gracie lands. I can’t wait to see her.
I choke up, thinking about what she and Mack went through to find each other.
Fuck this mood.
I suck in a long, bursting lungful of air.
Nope. Shut this bullshit down, Lawson.
I’m not letting Carlson get to me. Every single person who’s ever had to fight for the right to be safe and happy is why I took this stupid fucking job in the first place. I may have been misguided, too focused on not becoming financially ruined while trying to hang onto this apartment.
Maybe it’s time for a change.
I pad to the kitchen to find the girls on the sofa, wine in hand, Netflix on the oversized flat-screen TV. I grab a beer from the fridge and plop between them with a sigh. It’s a happier sigh than before. I let my head fall back on the headrest of the sofa and close my eyes.
“Okay, what are we workshopping?” Rubes whispers in one ear.
“Who do I need to bury under one of Harry’s fence posts?” Adds whispers in the other.
The hearty chuckle that rattles my Adam’s apple earns a poky finger into my ribs. “Ugh, I don’t know . . .”
“Yes, you do. Give it to us,” Ruby demands.
I crack my right eye to meet her brown eyes, the fire lining them currently lit up for me. Luckiest fucking brother-in-law in the world. Brother. We don’t consider these girls in any way removed from our family. They are Rawlinses, through and through.
These are my sisters.
Hell, they fight for our family like they were damn well born into it.
“Laws . . .” Adds says softly. “We worry about you.”
I crack the other eye, and worried browns find my gaze.
I sit up, brows dropping. “No, Adds.” I’m shaking my head. “Don’t feel sorry for me. I’m the problem.”
She tilts her head. “Wha—”
The doorbell rings.
“Shoot! What time is it?” Rubes flies up off the sofa.
I glance at the minimalist silver clock I bought with my first apartment. Seven oh five.
I push off the sofa as Rubes checks her phone, madly swiping through her messages as she mutters something under her breath.
I swing the door open.
The smile that splits my face earns the prettiest grin from the woman in the hallway.
“Hello, Gracie.”
Her face scrunches, and she falls into my chest. “Oh, Laws, I missed you.”
I splay a hand over her messy bun of light brown hair, hugging her petite frame to my chest. Her protruding belly presses into my stomach, reminding me why she didn’t drive with the girls. My brother’s wife, his baby mama, and fucking salvation.
She pushes from my hold and studies my face.
Her bottom lip worries through her teeth and she shifts on her feet as she rubs a thumb over my brows. “What’s got you all wound up, hey now?”
These fucking women. I swallow past the stone in my throat and make a promise that my next move will be less cowardly than the last.