Chapter 3
Trevor
“We need to give every employee a bonus this year.” Toby scrubs one hand over his face. He looks exhausted. Probably because he spent the remainder of the weekend fucking his new wife.
And good for him. Seriously.
I’m not quite as bitter as I normally would be about everyone getting laid but me. Well, everyone but me and Walker.
Except, now it’s just Walker in a monogamous relationship with the palm of his hand.
“We already give all of our employees a bonus every year.” I hold up my pointer and middle finger. “Two bonuses, actually.”
I agree they’re well-deserved, and have zero problem passing them out.
But adding a third is a touch too far. I’m all for being generous, but we still have to be reasonable.
Hundreds of people count on us running this business in a way that will make it possible for us to continue employing them indefinitely.
It’s important to keep our spending in check so we stay in the black.
Especially considering it’s been nearly a year since the first Dead Dan attempted to blow up our servers, and we still don’t know the reason behind his attack. The same way we don’t know why Dead Dan number two wrecked into Toby and Walker, or who was blackmailing Ray into betraying our trust.
It’s fucking maddening. Has me on edge and hanging by a thread.
I’m not a laid-back person to start with, and all the unknowns have my fuse shorter than Tucker’s attention span.
I’m not sleeping well. Wouldn’t eat if it wasn’t for Ruth.
If we don’t figure this shit out soon, I might peel my fucking skin off.
“Are you concerned employees are thinking of leaving?” Titus asks. “Because that could change things.”
“Not yet, but at some point they’re going to start coming to me for answers.” Toby blows out a frustrated sigh. “And I’ve got nothing.”
I hold back a scoff. Toby is as far from having nothing as it gets. He has a wife. Somebody to come home to. To love. Someone to keep his life from feeling like a fucking echo chamber of isolation and misery.
I thought by now I’d be okay with the decisions I made based on the choices I had, but the bitterness lingers. Probably a good indication I made the right call. If I can’t even make time for someone, being an asshole to them on top of it sure wouldn’t fucking help things.
“Unfortunately, Heidi thinks that when they started cracking down on the guys in Nashville, they tightened their ranks. Sealed off any leaks, making it hard as hell for us to figure out who was targeting us using the same group of hired hands.” Titus leans back in his seat.
“As much as I hate to say it, we might just have to wait for something else to happen.”
“Maybe it doesn’t.” Tucker—ever the optimist—shrugs. “Maybe they figured out getting through our security wasn’t going to be as easy as they expected, and decided it wasn’t worth the effort.”
I want to believe he’s right. Hope to God he is. Not just because I want my family safe, but because honestly, I’m not sure I could handle having anything else dropped on my plate right now.
And that includes another set of bonuses.
“I don’t think it’s feasible to distribute another round of bonuses at this point.
” I look around the room as I bring us back to the original topic.
“Is there anything else we need to discuss?” I can’t help but hold my breath, because I’m pretty sure at least one of my brothers has to have found out what happened Saturday at Toby and Brooke’s wedding.
This meeting is happening before office hours, so I haven’t crossed Ruth’s path yet, but there’s not a doubt in my mind she told Tucker.
There’s also a pretty solid chance Maren told Brooke and Mariah, which would mean two more of my brothers know I defiled Toby’s bathroom.
But no one says a thing. They haven’t even looked at me weird, which is strange. If any of them knew, they would absolutely be giving me shit for it.
And I probably deserve it. It was a bad idea. Terrible timing. Even worse location.
And I’d do it again in a heartbeat.
“No?” I sound skeptical, because I am. But no one pipes up.
I stand, flipping my folio closed. “Then I’ve got shit to do.
” Grabbing the insulated coffee mug Ruth makes me use instead of the disposable paper ones, I drain the contents as I head back to my office.
When I see a flash of long, dark hair, I brace for her wrath.
Ruth doesn’t hold back with me. It’s one of my favorite things about her. I’m a steamroller. I know this. I will barrel over anyone in my path without blinking, so I do my best to make sure the only people in my path are more than happy to slow my roll.
Ruth glances up as I approach, her eyes resting on me for only a second before darting away. “Good morning.” The greeting is more clipped than usual.
“Good morning.” I stand there, ready to take my punishment.
Instead, Ruth grabs the pad of paper she uses to organize my tasks for the day and strides into my office.
Like it’s just a normal morning.
I follow behind her, cautiously rounding my desk while keeping one eye on her. Just in case she decides to pick up something heavy and hurl it at my head.
I love the women my brothers have paired up with.
They’re all sweet in their own way, hard-working, funny, and devoted to the man they love.
They also have each other’s backs totally and completely.
The three of them are thick as thieves, and even more dangerous.
And they’ve welcomed Maren into their fold, so I’m expecting at least one of them to come after me.
However, it doesn’t seem like it’s going to be Ruth. Does she seem a little more uncomfortable than normal? Yes. Slightly awkward and embarrassed? Definitely.
Homicidal? Surprisingly not. Which is…strange.
Lowering into my chair, I take in the breakfast waiting for me.
She’s made maintaining my caloric intake her personal mission.
Normally, I wouldn’t hesitate to dig into whatever Ruth provides, but I’m feeling understandably hesitant this morning.
I look over the chilled oatmeal and yogurt concoction she’s topped with diced fruit and cinnamon, looking for any sign of arsenic.
What does arsenic look like? Does it have a smell?
I lean forward, giving it a whiff, but it smells just like usual. Not even a hint of cyanide.
Not that I know what cyanide smells like.
“Oh my God. It’s fine.” Ruth rolls her eyes to the ceiling, head tilting back like she’s asking a higher power for patience with me.
“I don’t care what you do on your own time, Trevor.
Consenting adults are allowed to make their own choices.
” Her eyes come to my face. “But if I ever catch you fucking anyone in the bathrooms in my house, I will kill you.”
“Understood.”
No way would I try to fuck anyone in their bathrooms anyway. Birdie figured out how to lock all the doors, so Tucker had to replace the doorknobs with unlockable ones. Ruth’s toddler can basically walk into any room at any time. And she does.
Hopefully she doesn’t remember all the parts and pieces she’s seen of her uncles when she’s older, or that therapy bill is going to be substantial.
“Good.” Ruth lifts her brows at me, expression stern. “Now, can we get to work?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
The rest of the morning progresses as usual.
Me trying to overreact to everything, and Ruth reining me back in.
I keep worrying she’s going to get sick of my shit and quit, but I almost think she likes the constant push and pull of our dynamic as much as I do.
I’ve never been one to shy away from a challenge, and Ruth absolutely challenges me. In the best of ways.
When noon hits, she brings me lunch from her favorite place, unpacking the sandwich she ordered for me before taking her own food to go spend an hour with my baby brother.
And that’s fine. I want her to be happy here.
If hanging out with Tucker during lunch—even though she gets to hang out with him all evening after work—is what she wants to do, that’s fine.
I can use this time to handle a few personal tasks.
I’m halfway through my meal and have just finished scheduling the landscaper to come out and prep my yard for spring, when the other woman who loves to give me unending shit storms into my office, looking ready to murder someone.
Likely me.
Maren is practically foaming at the mouth as she marches to my desk, planting both palms on the surface before leaning forward.
My dick hardens almost immediately. Both because of the snarl on her face and because I know how she sounds when she comes.
Not wanting her to know how much she affects me, I angle a brow, looking bored. “Can I help you?”
Maybe she’s here to yell at me about what happened between us on Saturday. If I play my cards right, I might be able to turn another fight into another fuck. And Ruth didn’t say anything about not fornicating in my office. Just her bathrooms. So, I’d probably be in the clear.
Just thinking about fucking Maren across the sofa where I’ve slept more than a few nights has my blood heating.
“You know what that fucker has done now?”
Her question throws me off, because it doesn’t sound like her anger is directed my way. “What fucker?”
“The temp you hired for my old job.” She is clearly fucking outraged, eyes blazing, cheeks flushed.
It is unreasonably sexy.
“That supply room is a fucking shit show. I can’t find anything in there because he just shoves crap wherever it lands.” She gestures around my office. “You’re probably out of everything, because I’m pretty sure he’s not checking anyone’s stock.”
“Ruth handles my office supplies.” She manages every aspect of my working life, right down to the toilet paper and tooth flossers in my private bathroom. She’s only been here a few months, and already I would be lost without her. Would probably spontaneously combust from the panic and overwhelm.
Maren rolls her eyes. “Of course she does. She’s your work mom.”
That has my brows lifting. “My, what?”
“Your work mom. She takes care of everything for you.” Maren straightens, crossing both arms over her chest. “Probably wipes your ass too.”
“I’m more than capable of wiping my own ass.” I’m still not quite picking up the rest of what she’s putting down though. “And Ruth isn’t my work mom. She’s my assistant. Just like you’re Brooke’s.”
And I’m not bitter about that at all. Maren would have been a terrible assistant to me. We would have fought all day long.
And maybe ended up fucking way earlier than we did. She also wouldn’t leave to go hang out with Tucker on her lunch break. She’d probably sit at her desk and glare through the open doorway at me, snarling any time our eyes met.
I’d have to jack off during my lunch break.
Maren laughs. “I don’t make Brooke snacks or put her in timeout when she misbehaves.”
I open my mouth to argue, but it just ends up hanging there, because that sort of is what Ruth does. In addition to lecturing me when I’ve been an ass and texting me to make sure I go to bed on time.
I always lie to her about that, but she’ll never know.
“What exactly do you want me to do about the temp?” I circle back, because I don’t really want to dig into the way Ruth treats me. It works, and that’s all that matters.
“I want you to get rid of him and hire someone new.” Maren lifts her chin, continuing with her demand. “Preferably someone with organizational skills who doesn’t smoke pot outside by the dumpsters every two hours.”
Hiring another temp is the last thing I need to worry about right now, but she’s right. I can’t have an employee under the influence during work hours, and the supply room needs to be maintained. “Fine. I’ll call the agency.”
Maren blinks at me. “Oh.” Both arms drop to her sides. “Okay.” She seems to deflate a little. “Great.”
I lift both brows at her as she continues standing there, seemingly dumbfounded over my agreement with her demand. “Is there something else you want to yell at me about?”
“Probably.” She flips her hair. “But I don’t want to waste my whole lunch hour staring at your face.”
I might’ve thrown her off for a second by agreeing to her demand, but Maren recovers quickly, getting back to her usual self, giving me shit and shooting daggers with her eyes.
There’s something addictive about pissing her off.
I don’t know why I enjoy it so much. It’s like a hit of a drug I know I’ll come back for. Every single time.
I should probably be out by the dumpsters with the temp.
Maren spins away, the glossy shine of her dark hair catching in the overhead light as she exits my office.
And I can’t resist the temptation she presents.
“Maren.” I stop her just as she crosses the threshold. When she turns to look at me, I give her a smirk. “In case you haven’t already noticed, I have a private bathroom. Let me know if you ever want a tour.”
A flicker of outrage flashes across her face, chased by something significantly more carnal.
Something that brings a flush to her cheeks.
The tip of her tongue flicks across her lower lip as her eyes drop to my mouth before snapping back to my face.
Her reaction is gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by squaring of her shoulders and another flick of her hair.
“That’s a weird thing to say.” Then she retreats.
Quickly.
Leaving me grinning at her back.
Guess her plan is to pretend nothing happened. Like I didn’t go home Saturday with her pussy juices drying on my skin.
That’s fine. I don’t mind playing this game with her. If Maren wants to act like it will never happen again, I’m going to let her.
Even if she’s wrong.