Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Oliver
A fire crackles in the fireplace across the room. The flames dance, sending shadows across the walls.
I stretch, my bare feet slipping against the black Egyptian cotton sheets that I love. They make me feel like I’m climbing into a cave at the end of a hard day. And today was definitely a hard one.
I drop my phone next to me. The screen is lit up with the farming game I downloaded by accident and now play when I can’t sleep. Who knew little digital chickens and cows could be so relaxing?
Most nights, anyway.
My muscles ache from the workout I decided to get in just before bed. My head hurts from trying not to lose my shit fifty-eight times at the office. My stomach is sore from twisting itself into a knot every time I thought about Shaye during the past twelve hours.
And that was a lot.
I fling my arms to my sides, smashing the pillows I use to box myself in when I lie in bed. The soft thump is barely audible over the noise in my head.
Feeling like I’m teetering on the verge of losing control is a new and unwanted sensation. I always have my shit locked down. I’m the Mason that keeps my cool, operates on an even keel. I'm even better at it than Wade because he operates without emotion altogether. I know how to balance it.
But, today, my emotions might have gotten the best of me. I might have been impulsive. And the fact that I don’t regret it—despite feeling like I would—is concerning.
I rip the blankets off me. Cool waves of air from the ceiling fan flirt with my skin. It’s not enough of a distraction to take my mind off my problems.
The biggest issue is that I really think she would do a good job. Monroe out-and-out praised her work ethic and efficiency. But is it smart to work with someone who I can’t stop thinking about outside of the office?
Probably fucking not.
“Ugh,” I groan, sitting up on the side of the bed. I bounce my legs as I try to work out what I’m going to do if Shaye accepts the job.
And what I’m going to do if she doesn’t.
“Which would I rather?” I ask myself, my voice slicing through the stillness of the room. “Would you rather have her work for you or sleep with her?”
A small smile slips across my lips.
“Both.”
I punch the rust-colored bedding and stand.
My reflection in the circle-shaped mirror hanging over my dresser is not my best look. A five-o’clock shadow dusts my jaw, and my hair looks like I’ve run my fingers through it all day.
Probably because I have.
I want to blame my brothers for this conundrum. Watching them settle down has to have infected my brain because I don’t do this. I’m not the guy who gets confused about women.
That’s Boone.
Rather, it was.
Maybe I am the one now?
I scoff at my thoughts and flex, watching my muscles pop in the reflection.
“Don’t lose your shit,” I chastise myself, letting my arms drop to my sides. “Stay calm. This, too, shall pass.”
Even though I’m the one who uttered the phrase, it makes me smile. It was one of my grandma Annabelle’s favorite sayings, and something about hearing it out loud helps me re-center.
I start toward the door to make a sandwich when my phone buzzes. Confused, I climb across my bed and grab it from under the comforter.
A text from an unknown number is on the screen. I sit and unlock the phone.
My heart thunders in my chest as I try to override my hope that it’s Shaye with the likelihood that it’s a bot text about my nonexistent car warranty.
I press the green text app and hold my breath.
Hi, Mr. Mason. This is Shaye Brewer. It’s late, but I wanted you to know that I will be calling human resources in the morning to accept your offer. Thank you for the opportunity.
“Fuck me,” I groan and fall back on my bed. A million thoughts scatter through my mind. I hold the phone above my head and read her words over and over again.
I will be calling human resources in the morning to accept your offer.
The knot in my stomach that I’ve battled all day loosens. Maybe it’s just because I’m now focused on the text and the fact that a decision has been made—she’s my new EA—and not on the what-ifs or what-will-bes.
Or maybe it’s just that I get to see her again.
I shove to a sitting position. My finger hovers over the audio button.
“I have to call her,” I rationalize. “I need to welcome her to the company and see if she has any questions.”
It’s enough of a justification for me.
My thumb hits the audio button, and the line begins to ring.
“Who needs human resources?” I joke as I wait for her to pick up.
My heartbeat pounds as the phone rings once, twice, three times. I pull the phone away on the fourth ring to make sure I called the right number. Just as I look at the screen, the line clicks.
“Hello?” Her voice is sweet, albeit kissed with a tinge of confusion.
“Hi, Shaye. It’s Oliver.”
She clears her throat. “Oh. Hi, Mr. Mason.”
“Please, call me Oliver.”
I jump to my feet, my body unable to contain the need to move. I don’t overthink me asking her to call me by my first name—something I only allowed my first secretary to do, and that was because she knew me as a kid when she was working for my father. I just go with it.
“I got your text,” I say. “I just wanted to reach out and see if you had any questions.”
Lies. All lies.
She hesitates. I hesitate.
This is not going well.
“Well, since you reached out,” she says, choosing her words carefully. “What time do you normally start? Or what time would you want me there?”
“I’m there way too damn early. I can’t sleep, so I always just roll in around four or so. But if you could be there around eight o’clock, that would be terrific. Toni gets there around then too, so I’m sure you could just meet her there in the morning. I need you to start as soon as possible.”
“Eight is great. That rhymes.”
I think she smiles. I can’t see it, but somehow it translates through the line.
“I’m really excited,” she says, an ease in her voice that I’m happy to hear. “I went to your company’s website and googled you a little. You’re involved in a lot of really interesting things.”
I lift my chin. “I think so. We’re slowly expanding into other areas of the country, but Georgia and the southern United States will always be our home. My grandfather started Mason Limited out of his garage, and it’s really important to my family to keep our roots here.”
“I love that.”
My lips part into a proud smile. “I love it too.”
“So it looks like there are a lot of Masons around the office.”
“Yeah. My older brother Holt and I are co-CEOs. Our youngest brother, Boone, works in the office too. You’ll meet them both tomorrow.
Wade doesn’t work for Mason Limited but is in and out of the office all the time.
He has an architecture firm that falls under the Mason umbrella.
And our other brother, Coy, is starting a label. ”
“A music label?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh. Okay.” She laughs. “I’ll never keep you all straight. Your pictures look almost identical.”
“It’ll get easier. Just wait until you meet them all. You’ll see. I’m the handsome one. And the smart one. And the charming one.”
I can’t say it without smiling, and her laughter makes me smile even harder.
I sit on the edge of the bed again. My muscles relax, and the need to pace and move diminishes. It’s a let-down of a day’s worth of adrenaline.
“And which one of you is the conceited one?” she teases.
“Boone. He’s the baby of the family. It comes with the territory.”
She giggles. “I think the babies of families take a lot of unwarranted flack.”
“Oh, so you’re the baby of a family too, huh?”
“Nope. Only child right here.”
“I dreamed of that most of my youth.”
Her amusement swirls through the phone. “It’s not all that it’s cracked up to be.
There comes a day when you realize that you are your family.
But it’s fine,” she says, seemingly catching herself from a conversation I don’t think she wants to have.
“Anyway, I can’t wait to meet Boone. Should be fun. ”
The tone she uses indicates that she’s circling the conversation around toward the end. And, although I should go along with it because it is the right answer, I’m not ready.
“Wade is the one to watch,” I say before I can stop myself.
“He’s so smart that he’s practically a wizard.
But he has absolutely no personal skills.
None. Zero. The only people who like him are our mother, who has to on account of that fact alone, and Boone’s daughter, Rosie.
But she’s five years old. She doesn’t know better. ”
“He sounds lovely.”
I chuckle. “Yeah. Lovely.”
“So he’s the real brains behind everything, huh?”
My jaw drops. “No. That’s me. I told you.”
“I guess I’ll just have to decide for myself,” she says, a hint of smugness in her tone.
“Just remember who your boss is, huh?”
“Good point.” She laughs. “I will lie and tell everyone that you’re the wizard.”
“Hey!”
“What? You said Wade was the wizard! If I say it’s you, I’m lying. I’m just repeating the information you gave me.”
I shake my head, amused at her playfulness. “You shall not ever, ever repeat that I said that about Wade. That was completely off the record.”
“I’ll try to remember that.”
“You do that.” I run my hand through my hair, unable to stop smiling. “How is your car? Did you get it looked at?”
There’s the briefest pause. It might be quick, but it’s full of hesitation.
“Oh, not yet,” she says quickly. “I’ve been really busy. I’ll get to it this week.”
I furrow my brow. Something about the way she says it has me second-guessing her promise.
“Did you get yours checked out?” she asks. “I’ll pay you for the damage out of my first check since it was my fault.”
“Nah, it’ll be fine. I haven’t even called to get it into the shop, to be honest.”
“I still feel really bad about hitting you. For what it’s worth.”
I stand as the knot begins to pull once again in my stomach. It’s fast and tight, and I rub my belly with one hand while I begin to pace around the room.
“It’s not a big deal,” I tell her. “Please don’t worry about it. Shit happens.”
“Shit happens to me a lot.”
“It happens to all of us, Shaye.”
She hums, but I think it’s in disagreement.
I pace around my room, running a hand through my hair again. I don’t want to get off the phone with her. A plethora of questions are on the tip of my tongue, a million things I’d like to ask her.
Every time we talk, she becomes more interesting, and I realize what a problem this might be if I don’t get it in check.
I take a deep breath. “Okay, well, I guess I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Oh. Right. Absolutely. I’ll be in the office at eight sharp.”
“Feel free to reach out if you think of anything else you need to know.”
The vibrations between us change. The easiness is replaced with an awkwardness that I loathe. I want to show her that I don’t want to end the call. But that probably complicates things.
“Thank you for the call. I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodbye, Oliver.”
“Good night, Shaye.”
She sucks in a quick breath before the call ends.
I make quick work of saving her number to my contacts list and then toss my phone on the bed.
I walk over to the window and drag open the blackout curtains. The backyard glows from the lights in the pool and the pool house. I usually find it soothing to look out and reflect on my day.
But not tonight.
Tonight, I’ll just start counting down the minutes until tomorrow.