He turned to his sister, who unfortunately possessed the same inquisitive gene he had. “Business.”
“What kind of business?”
Seb scratched his left eyebrow. “I can order you out of my office, Evelyn Margot. I am your boss.”
“You won’t.” Evelyn sat back and grinned. “You’re too nice.”
“More like desperate,” he muttered, referring to his lacking the payroll to hire extra employees. He needed every single body currently employed atThe Timesand that included his talented, irritating sister.
But she wasn’t wrong. He was too nice. Now that he had some time to think about it, he probably shouldn’t have interfered with Jade and Logan. Not that he regretted giving Logan a place to stay, but when she brought him up this morning, he should have kept to a one-word answer and not mentioned she go to his cabin. In fact, he should have steered clear of her the moment he saw her at the dumpster instead of helping her. It didn’t matter what she was looking for, fake bracelet or not. Because as soon as she mentioned the jewelry, he wanted to know if someone special had bought it for her. A male someone special. Bah, he didn’t need this mental drama.
“She’s pretty,” Evelyn said. “How long did you work together?”
“Not long.” He faced the typewriter again.
“Long enough to date?”
He paused, and that was all the opening Evelyn Margot Hudson needed.
“Ooh, why didn’t you mention her before?” She clasped her hands together. “What other secret girlfriends have you been keeping from me?”
“We barely dated. And I don’t have any secret girlfriends. You know better than anyone else that I don’t have the time.”
“You could make time.”
He glared at her. “You’re the one who said my girl picker was broken, remember?”
Evelyn balked. “I did? When was that?”
“After Karen and I broke up.”
“Karen, yuck. You two werenotcompatible.”
Apparently he and Jade weren’t either.
He stared at the empty paper in the roller. A writer’s worst nightmare—the blank page. He usually didn’t have a problem starting on columns and articles. Those were a breeze most of the time after all his years writing them. It was only when he tried another kind of writing, a more personal kind, that he froze up. He wondered if he’d ever thaw that fear enough to do it again.
When he noticed Evelyn had grown quiet, he glanced at her. She was staring at the mess on his desk but clearly not seeing it. “Ev?”
She blinked, then looked at him. Gone was the teasing and nosiness. Evelyn Margot was uncharacteristically serious. “Do you think there’s something wrong with us?”
He turned his chair toward her. “What do you mean?”
“You’re forty. I’m thirty-four. Neither of us has ever been married.” She sighed.
Where was this coming from? He and Evelyn had never talkedmuch about their social lives over the years. “Does this have something to do with Pancake?”
“Haskell? Pshaw.” But her cheeks turned red as she averted her gaze. “He’s like you. Consumed with his job.”
“He’s an excellent mayor.”
“Yeah.” She shrugged and got to her feet. “Never mind,” she said, sounding morose now.
“Hang on.” He gestured for her to sit down. “There’s nothing wrong with us. At least not too much.” He cracked a small smile. “I don’t believe there’s a set age to get married. Considering Mom and Dad, I think it’s better not to marry until you’re absolutely sure and committed to the other person.”
“Agreed. She’s happy now, though. Do you ever wonder about Dad—”
“No. I don’t. He made his choice. If he wanted a relationship with us, he could have made it happen.”
