He enters the room in front of me and makes his way toward a chair at the head of the table. I, on the other hand, stutter step.
Sitting in front of me is a man in a tailored suit. A Rolex sits on his wrist. A hand runs through his sandy brown hair as he turns my way.
“And then he …” Holt’s voice trails off as our eyes meet somewhere over the fancy hardwood floor. He leans back as though he can’t quite focus. “Didn’t I …?”
Recovering more quickly than I anticipate, I paste on a practiced smile. “It’s good to see you again,” I say to him.
He looks at Graham before switching his eyes to me again. “You too.” It’s more of a stammer, a caught-off-guard statement than anything. “Do you know the Landrys?”
“I’m just here to pick up a few papers.”
The gazes from around the room are heavy, heating the air even more than the exchange of energy between Holt and me. The slight drop of his jaw and his furrowed brow are slowly replaced with a twitch of his lip and oh, so narrowed eyes that are enough to make me want to back out of the room slowly.
“Is this why you were late today?” A man across from him sighs. He looks like Holt with lighter hair and darker eyes.
Holt responds, bickering back and forth with the man across the table about minding his own business while I take in the men around me. Graham is ignoring them all as he sorts through a stack of papers. A younger version of Graham sits next to him with a wicked grin on his face.
“Lincoln Landry,” he says with a little wave. “Nice to meet ya. You must be Blaire.”
“Yes. Nice to meet you too.”
“Here they are,” Graham mutters, pulling out an envelope and handing it to me. “I put everything she needs in there. If she’s missing something, she can call.”
“Great. I’ll make sure she gets them,” I say, taking the envelope.
“We’d love to have dinner with you this week,” Lincoln says. “Mom would love to meet you.”
“I need to check my schedule,” I say, reverting to my new go-to line. “I’ll get in touch if I can work it out.”
Holt’s chair scoots back in front of me, and he gets to his feet. “I’ll walk you out.”
“I can do it,” Graham offers.
“Clearly, he doesn’t want you to do it, asshole,” Lincoln says to his brother. “Sit down and pretend you can see what’s happening here.”
My cheeks warm. I look between the Landry men. “Nice to meet you both. And you too …” I say, pulling my gaze to the other man.
He stands. “Oliver Mason. Holt’s brother.”
“Nice to meet you, Oliver.”
“Likewise.” He tucks his tie beneath his jacket as he takes his seat again. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again.”
My first reaction is to tell him not to sound so excited about the prospect. My second thought is to ask him what makes him think we’ll ever see each other again. Instead, I catch myself and give him a tight grin instead.
“Have a good evening,” I say and turn toward the front door.
Holt’s energy ripples behind me, the musk of his cologne filling my nostrils as I reach the exit. He hops in front of me and opens it before I can get to it.
“Thank you,” I offer as I step onto the expansive front porch complete with hanging ferns. Breathing in the cut grass and coolness to the evening air, I look up at the colorful sky. “It’s beautiful out here, isn’t it?”
“I didn’t notice until now.”
The gravel in his voice snaps my attention to him without me even realizing it. Before I know it, I’m standing in front of Holt Mason as he peers down at me. His irises flicker, greens and golds swirling together in a heady mix of something I don’t want to name.
Passing a hot swallow down my throat, I re-grip the file in my hands. “Look at you, being all charming.”
“It’s one of my many talents.”
