Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
KNOX
Have you ever been wildly turned on while watching the man in your passenger’s seat strum an industrial-sized bag of Cheetos with his violently orange fingers like he was auditioning to be the next Pete Townshend in a The Who revival?
Yeah, no. That would be ridiculous.
“Ah, I love that song,” Gage sighed as the last strains of “Baba O’Riley” faded. He shot me a sly, sideways look. “Best theme song ever. Those songwriters over at CSI: New York are geniuses.”
I shook my head and set my teeth. “I refuse to be baited, whippersnapper.”
I’d already fallen for it when he’d asked me if I’d gone to discos when I was his age. And I’d fallen for it again when he’d asked if “compact discs” were just tiny records. I was not going to be drawn into lecturing him anymore, no matter how often he claimed it got him hot.
“You’re no fun. But seriously, though, people can say what they want about The Who, but Dave Grohl was a legend when he played drums for them. Isn’t he, like, eighty now?”
I opened my mouth to respond to this travesty… then shut it again. “Nope. I can see exactly what you’re doing. You’re transparent as glass. It’s not happening.”
“Fine, fine.” He waved a hand easily. “I was only kidding.”
“If you say so.”
Gage snorted. “I know my hair metal bands, Knox. God.”
“The Who is not hair metal. They were most popular in the early ’70s, while hair metal wasn’t really popular until the early…”
Gage burst into laughter, and I shut my mouth so fast my molars clacked.
Motherfucker. He got me again.
“Why do you even try to resist?” he wanted to know. “You have so much to teach young, ignorant me.”
In truth, a few weeks ago, I maybe had thought he was young and ignorant about anything that had happened in the last millennium, but I’d been incredibly impressed by his knowledge of music and a little shocked by how alike our tastes were.
“Are you done taunting me?” I demanded. “We’re barely halfway there, and I’m ready to find a field of cows and drop you in it.”
“Hey now. That’s cruel and unusual!” Gage leaned back in his seat and stretched out his legs, which looked miles long encased in tight, worn jeans.
He picked at a fraying spot in the denim over his thigh, and my attention homed in on the tiny square of skin peeking out.
“Not my fault you declined road head, Knox. That’s what I had planned to keep us occupied for the trip. ”
I tightened my grip on the steering wheel so I could keep the truck on the road. “It’s a three-hour trip, Gage.”
“Your point?”
I groaned and pushed the heel of my hand against the front of my jeans, willing my cock to stay down.
Sleeping with a twenty-four-year-old was fucking torture.
I was such a lucky bastard.
“Okay, new plan,” I informed him. “Practice interview questions, so you’ll be totally prepped for your meeting tomorrow.”
He twisted his head against the headrest. “Oh, come on. You said I have this interview in the bag.”
“Jason’s on board,” I agreed. “But there may be other people in the meeting, too. And… look, you were all heart-eyed about the idea of Rubicon when you first met Jason, right? But then you didn’t follow up with him and you seemed downright reluctant when I brought up the interview yesterday.
I practically had to strong-arm you into coming. And I know why.”
Gage swallowed. “You… you do?”
“Obviously. You haven’t done many interviews, have you?
Or any interviews? You’re nervous. I get it.
I’ve been there myself.” I shrugged. “I’m sorry if I seemed pushy, but it’s because I want you to have the big life you’ve been dreaming of, Gage.
I don’t want you to psych yourself out and miss your chance. Not if I can help you.”
“So sweet, so frustrating,” he groaned then he rolled his eyes. “This seems lame, but okay, fine. Hit me with your first question.”
“M’kay. Tell me about yourself, Gage.”
“Ugh. Okay. Well, I’m twenty-four, which means I’m young and enthusiastic.
I’m a Scorpio with Leo rising, which makes me a team player.
I have a college degree in applied mathematics and computer science, which means I’m a rational thinker and problem solver.
And I have an intense aversion to cows, which makes me both smart and a good judge of character. ” He nodded once. “Next.”
I blinked. “Actually… that wasn’t the worst answer I’ve ever heard. Except the part about cows is a fucking lie when I think about what I walked in on today.”
Gage rolled his big brown eyes. “Oh, please. You make it sound like it was some sort of depraved—”
“You were crooning at Diana. You were scratching her head.”
“Because Diana isn’t a cow, she’s a heifer. She’s tiny, and her eyes are all innocent, and when you scratch her forehead in just the right spot, she makes a little noise like… Ahem. Whatever. It’s different, that’s all.”
“Ahh.” I nodded. “Of course.”
“Next question,” Gage huffed, folding his arms over his chest.
“Right. Okay, tell me your greatest strength.”
He made a face. “Jesus. Uh. I’m easygoing? And I’m kind to animals. Even almost-cows. Next.”
“Not so fast. Try thinking in terms of what you’re bringing to the company.
Easygoing can be mistaken for lazy or passive if you don’t explain it properly.
Maybe say, ‘I get along with most people and have a real talent for seeing others’ points of view.
’ Though I wouldn’t say you’re easygoing.
You’re like a dog with a bone sometimes. ”
“Only with you, baby,” Gage said breathily, fluttering his eyelashes. “And only because I enjoy the lectures. So what’s your greatest strength?”
“Oh, that’s easy. Dedication and perseverance,” I said quickly.
“Once I’m committed to a path, I don’t give up.
Which is also one of my weaknesses.” I laughed self-deprecatingly, like I might in an interview.
“I’ve worked hard to become an active listener who can make my team feel valued and heard.
I’ve also learned to be cautious and intentional about the number of projects I take on, because I achieve the greatest return on investment for my time when I can really see a project through to completion. ”
“Wowwww. Perseverance is a fancy way of saying workaholic? Who knew?”
“I’m not a workaholic. ‘Workaholic’ implies that I have a compulsion to work, and I don’t. Like I told you the other day, it’s that I like being in charge. I like achieving things. I like being…”
“Say efficient,” he whispered ardently, leaning toward me with his hands clasped expectantly under his chin.
I shoved his face away. “I like being good at my job. I like people knowing I’m good. They need me at Bormon Klein Jacovic, and that feels nice. Always good to have job security, Goodman.”
“Needed you,” he said.
“Huh?”
“Needed. Past tense. You haven’t worked there for like… four months? Five? And they’re probably doing okay, so…”
I winced because, as stupid as it sounded, I’d forgotten that Gage didn’t know my move to Vermont was anything but permanent. None of my family did.
In truth, I’d almost forgotten myself.
And then I winced again because it had been that long, and they had gotten along just fine without me.
I hadn’t checked in with anyone at Bormon Klein Jacovic in weeks, and they hadn’t called me either.
The last time I’d seen Rick, he and his team had been dealing with a crisis that I’d had no part in resolving.
You’ve been too busy getting laid. You’ve traded achievement for cuddling.
“Sorry,” Gage said, reading my mood but not understanding the reason. “I didn’t mean to say it so harshly. I’m sure they do miss you.” His voice was sympathetic without being pitying. “It’s gotta be a huge mental shift, huh?”
“Mmm,” I mumbled noncommittally, my mind still processing things.
“But even though the circumstances suck, it’s a good thing you went home when you did,” Goodman went on, trying to soothe me.
“It’s gotta be hard for Webb being the sole person in charge of Sunday Orchard while raising a kid, dealing with his ex, and all that.
And it’ll be even harder for him next year when Em’s away at school.
And even after Drew’s ankle heals and he could get out to the barn to do the accounting, he probably wants to slow down and spend some time with Marco. ”
I blinked. “They spend nearly every day together.”
“Well, yeah, but they’ve never been on vacation together, even after all these years. And maybe Drew would like to move in with Marco but doesn’t think he can. You know, since Em and Hawk might need him closer?”
I blinked some more. I’d legitimately never considered that.
In fact, I’d thought me living in Boston had been helpful, so I wasn’t intruding on Drew’s space or his relationship with Em and Hawk and even Aiden, who I’d been sure were all much closer to him than to me.
I hadn’t really considered that Drew might have been happy for me to move back or that he’d maybe started making plans because he thought I was home permanently.
Guilt settled like a rock in my gut. I needed to tell my family the truth soon, or it’d be too late and I’d be stuck in Vermont.
And would that be the worst thing? Some distant part of my brain wondered.
I slammed the door closed fast on that intrusive thought. Yes, it would be the worst thing. It would be… terrible. My career was my identity, and my identity was in Boston.
“Okay, next question. Where do you see yourself in ten years?”
“Running my own company,” Gage answered promptly.
I snickered. “There’s not a doubt in my mind that you will, baby.
But don’t say that in the interview. It’s a little like introducing your spouse to people as your ‘first husband.’ Instead, you can say, ‘I see myself tackling problems through a unique understanding of a business’s needs, being a leader in my field, and mentoring people. ’ Also not a lie.”
Gage laughed merrily. “Okay, now that’s some finely tuned bullshit right there.”