“I have availability tomorrow at three. Does that workforyou?”
“Definitely!” Lucian bit down on his bottom lip, but his grin broke through regardless. “Will you be able to send the details to the email I have listed on my resume? I need to make sure I know where toshowup.”
“I’m sending it as we speak.” From the other end of the conversation, Lucian heard the clack of a keyboard. “And… sent. In case the email doesn’t arrive, you can call me back at the following number. Do you have a pen andpaper?”
Lucian bolted from the bedroom into the kitchen. On the fridge was a magnetized grocery list. He snagged a pen from the top of the fridge and pulled the cap open with histeeth.
“Got it. Ready,” Lucian said, speaking aroundthecap.
Clarissa recited a string of numbers, and when she was done, Lucian had a phone number listed beneath milk andpotatoes.
“If you have any questions between now and then, feel free to give that number a call and askforme.”
“I will.” Lucian capped the pen and set it back on top of the fridge. On the inside he was close to bursting with happiness, but he kept his excitement from his voice. “Thankyou.”
“I look forward to meeting you, Mr.Bracknell.”
“Likewise.”
The call ended. Lucian looked down at his phone, the grin he’d once bit back emerging in full. It lifted his cheeks until theyached.
Thirty-five hours a week, tips, and a chance to make good money without an academicbackground.
It felt too good tobetrue.
The excitement he’d suppressed bubbled up and burst from his lips as laughter. Lucian rubbed his mouth to try to hold it back, the thick, coarse hairs of his stubble scraping against his fingers. Stonecrest had set him up to work at the florist, but this job? It would be the first job he’d land through his own efforts. There was something magical about that. At twenty-one years old, Lucian was starting to take control of his own life. Independence reallywaspossible—Stonecrest hadn’t blown smoke uphisass.
He’d make it work. He knew hewould.
On his way back to the bedroom to pack the rest of his laundry, Lucian checked to see if the email Clarissa sent had arrived. It had. He opened it and scrolled through the enclosed info, feeling giddy. All of it was straightforward. An address, a phone number, and a business name. It was enough to get him to the interview. The rest would be uptohim.
Lucian tucked the phone away and set to gathering the rest of his laundry. On his way to the front door, he tossed his dildo in the bathroom sink. Tonight would be for celebration, and a little silicone company was inorder.
The Shepherd would be his first official step toward freedom, and damn, did itfeelgood.
2
Marcus
It wasn’t the shrill,frantic buzzing of Marcus’ alarm that woke him, but the sound bite of a rock song he associated with one man, and one man alone. Eyes still closed, face down amongst the pillows, Marcus groped for the phone on his bedside table. His thumb jabbed the answer button on the screen by muscle memoryalone.
“What’s so important that you have to call me before noon,Crawford?”
“I’m gettingmarried.”
Marcus rolled over. He made an attempt to open his eyes, but the light streaming in through the crack in his curtains was too much totolerate. “What?”
“I’m getting married,” Crawford repeated. There was refined glee in Crawford’s voice that Marcus knew wasn’t fabricated. He was telling the truth. “Owen is wearingmyring.”
“Shit.” Marcus laid a hand over his eyes to block out most of the light, then opened themagain. “When?”
“After the twins are born, maybe six months later. We’ll make the call whenever they’re letting us sleep through the night with some regularity. The last thing I want is to fall asleep at thealtar.”
“I can imagine.” Marcus parted his fingers, letting light stream through his shield of darkness. His eyes gradually adjusted to the light of day. “I guess you two won’t be honeymooning withnewborns.”
“I’ve promised him a honeymoon when the children are older,” Crawford said. His enthusiasm, although muted, was contagious. Marcus didn’t do mornings, but he couldn’t be upset when Crawford sounded like he did. “Probably when they’re about two. I don’t imagine Owen will want to part from them for long when they’re still young. He’s already startedtonest.”
Marcus snorted a laugh. His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. Mornings were theworst. “Nest?”
