“Good, because we’re often here until ten o’clock when it gets closer to tax filing time.”
“No need to scare the guy off before he’s barely gotten the seat warm, Lucy.”
A deep baritone voice sounded behind him, and Blake glanced over his shoulder to see a tall, well-built man around fifty, standing by the front door.
“I speak the truth and you know it, Kyle.”
Blake stood, prepared to greet the head of the office, hoping to make a good impression.
“Hi, I’m Blake Myers.”
“Sorry, I got hung up on an appointment. I’m Kyle Winters. Let’s go in my office, and we can chat and get you set up.” He walked and talked at the same time, waving Blake to follow him, which he did, noticing the straight set of his shoulders. If Blake had to guess, he’d figure Kyle to be ex-military. He had the look of Blake’s own father, but hopefully, not the same temperament.
“I hope you don’t let what Lucy said discourage you.” Kyle closed the door and took his seat behind the desk. Initially Blake hadn’t noticed the private office tucked into the far corner of the large open room where everyone else was in cubicles. “I love my sister, but she’s a lot to handle.”
A bit caught off guard by that revelation, Blake merely smiled and waited for Kyle to continue. He wasn’t about to offer an opinion either way on anyone, especially a prickly relative, when he’d been there less than a half hour. Kyle shuffled some papers around on his desk and continued.
“So here’s the deal. During non-tax season we open Monday through Friday at ten and close at five. But from January until April, we’re open seven days a week, starting at seven in the morning, and stay open until the last client leaves, usually around ten thirty–eleven p.m. We do both personal and business returns, and I ask for a minimum of ten returns done per day.”
A quota? Blake had never operated under these conditions before. Dealing with financial institutions, audits, and returns could take weeks, sometimes months to get through. But the no-nonsense set of Kyle’s mouth brooked no room for discussion, and Blake found himself nodding in agreement.
“Yes, it’s fine. I’m good.”
“Okay. I see you’re at your desk. That’s good. You have to be ready to jump right in. This is a fast-paced place, Blake. We’re here to get the people in and out and their taxes done as best as we can. I hope you’re ready to hit the ground running because there are customers waiting now.”
From his vantage point, Blake could see several people had entered the office since he’d sat down.
“I’m ready,” he said. If he could handle multimillion-dollar corporations, he certainly could do people’s personal income tax returns. Feeling resolute, he sprang out of his seat. “Let’s go.”
He’d worry about quotas and everything else when the time came. Right now he had a job to tide him over until he could find something better.How bad could it be?
Chapter Seventeen
Feeling grouchy andunloved, Jeremy stayed late at the gym, ostensibly to work on the juice-bar proposal, but for the better part of the night he spent his time staring into space. He hardly saw Blake except for cuddling with him at night and a brief, sleepy good-bye kiss at butt-fuck early in the morning.
Earlier in the evening he’d talked to his mother and Noah, and both conversations left him dissatisfied and helpless. Years had passed since Noah had walked a runway, yet his mother still nagged at him to push Noah to reconsider and return to modeling. Jeremy listened to her with half an ear, knowing he’d do no such thing. Noah hated that life but was afraid of telling their mother, despite Jeremy urging him, albeit gently, to let her know his feelings on the subject.
Talking to Noah broke his heart. Jeremy saw his brother struggling, hiding his life away behind the microphone, fearful of being hurt and used again. As the big brother, Jeremy felt helpless to offer anything but useless words of comfort when all he wanted was to find the people who’d hurt Noah and hurt them. Badly.
Knowing that wasn’t feasible, Jeremy instead slid on a pair of boxing gloves and proceeded to the heavy boxing bag he’d set up in the corner of the gym. Fifteen minutes of solid punching and Jeremy could barely feel his arms. His muscles quivered with fatigue, yet still he battered the bag, seeing the nameless, faceless cowards who’d sent his brother hiding in the shadows of life. Tears poured down his face, blinding him, forcing him to stop and catch his breath. Noah had told him long ago it was ridiculous to think he could have prevented the attack, but Jeremy knew if he’d pushed Noah to confront their mother earlier, Noah would’ve left modeling on his own terms rather than being forced to.
Covered in sweat, soaked to the skin, Jeremy leaned against the weighted bag. Only Blake could make his heart pound as furiously, and he realized with a pang of longing he missed their bits of chatter during the day. Even a quick, “Hi, I can’t talk, but I’m thinking about you,” would be good enough.
Jeremy huffed out a laugh at himself, wondering when he’d become so needy for attention, and unlaced the gloves, then tossed them aside. He grabbed a towel to wipe off the worst of the sweat and checked his phone. No messages. A bit peeved, Jeremy decided to take a shower and call it a night.
Dressed in a fresh pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt, his hair sleek and wet from the shower, Jeremy made the rounds of the gym, shutting off lights and powering down the equipment. He heard knocking, and when he saw Blake’s unmistakable lean figure silhouetted through the glass doors, he hurried over to the front of the gym and yanked them open.
“Where’ve you been all day—”
The rest of his question died in his throat, seeing the exhaustion on Blake’s face.
“Hi, can I come in? I was hoping you’d still be here.” Shoulders slumped with fatigue, Blake shuffled inside but only made it to the other side of the door before he leaned back and gave a huge yawn. Studying him, Jeremy took in the circles under his eyes and paler than normal skin.
“You look like shit.”
“Thanks. Love you too.” The attempt at a grin failed. “Iambeat, I have to admit. It was a day.” Blake pulled at his already loosened tie and unbuttoned the top of his shirt.
Guilty now that he saw how wiped out Blake was, Jeremy slung an arm around his shoulders and pulled him in close. To his surprise, Blake, not normally a demonstrative person, dropped his briefcase on the floor and slid both arms around his waist to hug him tight. They stood together, and feeling Blake trembling against him, Jeremy wanted to spirit him away and take care of him forever. He’d fallen so hard for this man, it scared him.
