A woman I’ve met in passing steps into Trevor’s office, her eyes moving from him to me to Birdie before settling on theman behind the desk. She lifts a stack of files. “Where do you want me to put these?”
Trevor’s broad shoulders sag beneath the perfectly tailored lines of his suit. He sighs, the sound almost as loud as his earlier laugh. “Stack them on the desk outside.”
The woman angles a brow like she’s questioning his answer, but does as he says. I take a step back as she goes, leaning to peer out the open door at the desk in question.
“Holy shit, Trevor.”
I can’t actually see the surface of the desk. It’s covered with files. They’re piled so high it’s a miracle there hasn’t been an avalanche. I watch in trepidation as the woman attempts to find a somewhat solid foundation on which to put her stack. She finally finds one and adds her armload.
I hold my breath as she walks away, waiting for the inevitable.
Thankfully, nothing shifts, and all the files manage to hold their position. But it’s only a matter of time before one of them is bumped and the rest fall like dominoes.
I turn to Trevor, this time looking a little closer at Tucker’s older brother. It’s easy to get caught up in his expensive and meticulously maintained appearance. All the Bradshaw brothers are attractive, but he has a certain elevation to him. Where Tucker’s hair is loose and wavy with no real styling to speak of, Trevor’s is combed to perfection. The rest of the brothers wear mostly jeans and T-shirts, but he’s always in a suit. One that is most definitely custom. Possibly even bespoke.
Even his office is fancier than everyone else’s. Tucker’s is nicer, in my opinion—comfortable and almost homey—but there’s not a doubt in my mind Trevor’s cost more money. He has similar built-ins to Tucker, but instead of an oversized leather sofa to relax on, he has beautifully upholstered armchairs and a coordinating settee.
I can only imagine what the guy's house looks like. And thecoronary he would have if Birdie exploded an applesauce pouch inside of it.
But while Trevor is definitely just as attractive as his brothers—as well as impeccably dressed—he looks tired. There are lines around his eyes and a grim pinch to his mouth I hadn’t noticed until now. I don’t know what’s caused it, but I would assume struggling to find an assistant certainly isn’t helping things.
And it makes me decide to take pity on him.
With a resigned sigh, I turn to the mountainous desk. “Where do these files go?”
Girl Gang Group Chat
Maren
Ruth.
Maren
RUTH.
Maren
RUTHLYNN BEATRICE WARHAMMER!
Ruth
You know that’s not my name, right?
Maren
All I know is you need to stop helping Trevor. Leave him to clean up his own messes.
Ruth
It’s fine. I don’t mind helping.
Maren
He doesn’tdeserve your help.
Ruth
Ummmm… Why not?
