“I don’t think you understand what I do for a living.”
JT shrugs. “Oh, I certainly don’t, though Lila has tried to explain it to me multiple times. But I bet you could find some time for cozying if you really put your mind to it.”
“I assure you there will be no cozying. It would be unprofessional on so many levels.”
“What about with Jaxon Steele?” Jameo asks.
It’s silent as we all stare at him.
“What? What did I miss?” he asks, looking from face to face.
I stare at him a bit longer, finally realizing he’s not going to put it together himself. “One, he’s my client, so no, I will not be cozying up to him. Two, with his history? No way. You couldn’t pay me enough money to wade into that hornet’s nest.”
I don’t share the fact that I’ve mixed business with pleasure once before, and it almost ended with me being cut out of my own business. Though from the look on my sister’s face, she’s thinking about my stupid ex and the indefensible decision I made a couple of years ago.
“Fine. Fine.” Jameo holds up his hands in surrender. “You’re going to have to explain it to me later,” he whispers to my sister.
I glare at him again, just in case he thinks I’m getting soft, while silently promising myself this opportunity will be different. There will be no mistakes or anything that might make me or KH Security appear anything other than highly competent and extremely professional.
JT taps his chin, feigning deep thought. “Obviously Jaxon Steele is a bad idea, but I do think we’re onto something here. Six weeks oftraveling across the world? Plus a week in Vancouver? I think you need to live it up a little. Find someone to do some cozying up to. You’re so single, it’s painful—according to Sam! Not me!” he says defensively when my glare deepens.
I lift my eyebrow and set my jaw in a way I know has made at least one man cry before.
JT continues anyway. “So find someone else on the tour. Or find some random from the crowd. Or at a local bar. Hell, I hear golf courses are great places to meet someone. I’m sure they have at least one of those in every city you’re in. Find someone. Have some fun.”
“You’re an idiot,” I say, though my mind starts turning at his suggestions. Obviously, I’m not going to go around dating the people I’m working with. I’d never risk my company or my reputation that way, but I could go out a couple of nights when there aren’t shows. Meet some new people. See what happens.
But then I’m reminded of how one moment of weakness, of how putting my trust in one wrong person, can make me lose everything I’ve worked so hard for, and I know I will spend the entire seven weeks focused on my business.
Chapter four
Carter
Myknifethwacksagainst the cutting board as I imagine the potato I’m chopping is Trent’s head. I know he’s got a new wife at home, but I truly can’t believe he won’t leave her for seven weeks to oversee our largest ever contract. I told him as much when I asked him again to switch places with me so I don’t have to leave my motherwith dementiahome alone.
He denied me, again.
So now I’m at my mom’s house, following our nightly routine one last time before I climb on an airplane tomorrow.
My mom bustles quietly around the kitchen, adding vegetables and meat into the pan she’s using to make the soup.
“We need those potatoes in here if you don’t want them to be hard,” she says, glancing over my shoulder to see how I’m doing.
“Sorry,” I respond, quickly finishing the chopping and handing her the entire cutting board to dump into the pot.
It’s a routine we’ve done a thousand times, even before her dementia and her need for consistency. My mom worked the evening shift when I was young so she could make sure she was here to get me up and ready for school. Then, when I got to middle school and started playing sports, she traded her dinner shift for breakfast so she could see my games. Since it’s always been just the two of us, there hasn’t been a time in my life when I wasn’t helping her make our meals.
“What’s on your mind?” she asks, the conversation so normal, I want to bottle it up and take it with me while I’m gone, just in case it’s not here for me when I get back. I take note of her faded blue jeans and the navy sweater she wears tucked in just at the front. Her chocolate-brown hair, the same color gracing my head, stops just past her collarbone. As I look at her, I realize she has more gray streaks than I thought. That’s the thing about seeing someone every day: you don’t notice the small changes that somehow compound into something more—something major.
“Just running through my packing list for tomorrow’s flight,” I lie.
“Where are you going again?” she asks.
Fuck. My stomach drops. I’ll quit my job. I’ll find—
“I’m kidding, Carter. Jeesh. You should see your face.”
I run a hand down said face, trying to calm my heart enough to respond without yelling at her.
