There went that exchange of looks. But it was Asher who spoke. “Really?”
“I’m not the Decker you need to be convincing. You’d never get Brian to sign off on that.”
The door opened behind him and the Tweedles looked as if they had eaten the canary.
“It was my idea,” Brian said.
Decker turned and saw his brother standing behind him, the sun beaming around him burned his eyes to look. Almost as much as it burned his gut when that ball finished unfurling and dropped all the way down into the pit of his stomach.
“So much for a closed set,” Decker said. “Who’s coming next?”
“This is it, just me,” Brian said. “So, what do you think?”
No hello. No thanks for looking after his kid for the past couple of weeks. Just a TV deal. “You want crews filming our family business? That’s a no for me.”
“Maybe this isn’t about you.”
“So they’re calling Brian Decker, mid-sized construction guy, to have his own show?”
Brian gave him a shove to the chest. “Fuck you, bro.”
“I’m just saying, whose life do you think will be the center of the media frenzy? The guy with or without the sex tape and tanked hockey career?” And after these past weeks where all he’d been able to think about was getting some alone time with Poppy, preferably on a private nude beach, he wasn’t all that interested in jumping in front of the camera again anytime soon.
“I was thinking about how proud this would have made Dad. How this would take his legacy to the next level.”
“Low blow, bringing Dad into this. Plus, he was already proud.” At least Decker would like to think he was. He was working on a project he was proud of, doing it while reconnecting with a pretty amazing nephew, and working alongside an incredible woman, who he’d gone past the surface with.
For the first time since his old man’s stroke, Decker didn’t feel as if he was suffocating. In fact, he hadn’t had a single panic attack since he’d been with Poppy. If he were to put a name to how he felt, up until that moment, it would be happy. And he wasn’t going to let his brother’s guilt trip rip that away.
“Let’s take this inside,” Jack said, leading the group into the trailer that was the size of a penalty box. “Talk it out like adults.”
Decker followed but didn’t promise to be an adult about this. He watched as they all crammed around the tiny table. Jack patted the bench next to him.
Decker shook his head. “I’ll pass.”
“Take a fucking seat,” Brian said.
“I won’t be staying long enough. I just don’t think that this is something I’m interested in.”
“You haven’t even heard what we’re proposing,” Brian said.
“And you haven’t heard what I’ve been saying,” Decker volleyed.
“We hear you and after suckering you into this I get why you’re gun-shy, but this is different. Hear us out,” Asher said, scooting over.
He may have felt suckered at first, but now that he was there, Decker felt as if it was where he was supposed to be. Not necessarily the lights and camera, but being part of a larger story and being there with Poppy. Not that he’d let the round table know that.
Decker stood there for a stubborn second before finally giving in. When he sat, his big frame dwarfed the already small seating area and the bench sank a tad. He had to spread his legs just to get them to fit under the table.
He waved his hand for someone to start.
“Remember the hundred acres Dad bought back in the day?” Brian said, and—look at that—he had the blueprints to show for it. Decker didn’t even glance at them.
“The land in po-dunk Nevada?”
“I don’t know the last time you were there, but million-dollar developments are sprouting up all around it,” Brian said. “With the privacy, the views and access to Vegas, they’re saying it will be one of the new premier destinations for celebrities looking for that Sin City house.”
“Seriously?” This was news to Decker.
