Page 13 of Grant’s Heat

It certainly wasn’t uncommon for a lot of families in Southern California. Home prices were so high in most neighborhoods that most households had to have two incomes. Often, the areas that had higher-paying jobs didn’t offer desirable neighborhoods as well, especially if couples were interested in having a family. Commuting became a necessary evil in the daily lives of most residents.

No wonder I was still single.

Elijah Banks strode into Sebastian’s office. As usual, the man looked like he’d stepped out of a fashion magazine spread. Our lifelong friend was model good-looking, with his naturally tan skin and light hazel eyes that told a hundred stories before he spoke a single word.

“My man,” I greeted, giving him a brotherly side-hug-handshake type of greeting we had perfected over the years.

Sebastian just curtly nodded from where he was perched on the edge of his desk, never one to be openly touched by another. It wasn’t a matter of coldness or aloofness; Elijah and I both knew that. Being thrown around by an alcoholic father just did certain things to a person.

Thank God Abbigail had come into Sebastian’s life. Before her, the man wouldn’t even engage in physical relations with a woman unless he was paying her, and the circumstances were defined by a particular kind of control. Not that I faulted the guy—my own tastes ran the same way for a lot of the same fucked-up reasons—but in Bas’s case, the dynamic was starting to shut him down instead of charge him up. It hadn’t been pretty.

“Okay, let’s focus here. Will you both be here for the meeting with Jacob Cole at ten?”

Elijah nodded. “Absolutely. Categorized as my first priority today, along with the interview you just invited me to.” He looked up from his phone with a start. “With…Sean Gibson? Like, the guy who’s married to Rio Gibson?” He swung his stare over to me. “Like, your Rio?”

“Jesus Christ,” I muttered as Sebastian spurted out a laugh. “Not helping, man.”

Bas kept it up, though, relentless with his mirth. “Yep. The same one,” he said to Banks.

Elijah batted his stare between Sebastian and me. “Why do I feel like I’ve missed a page of backstory here?”

“Because you have,” I retorted.

“Have a seat,” Bas instructed him. “Believe me, you’ll want to be on your ass when I fill you in.”

“And while you’re at it, I’m stepping out to get caught up in my own office.” I scrolled through my calendar app, quickly checking on my upcoming schedule. Normally I’d have my entire day committed to memory by now. But spending the night buried in Cybil’s pussy had thrown my attention way off—a predicament that piled vexation onto my irritation.

“I’ll be back at ten for the meeting with Cole,” I said, concentrating on modulating my shit to something more professional.

“Should be an interesting meeting,” said Elijah. “I’m anxious to see the design changes Bas asked for, along with his breakdown of the city planning commission meeting from two weeks ago. If they had issues with the latest revisions, Cole should have those to present to us today.”

“Right. I’m hoping like hell the parking structure plans were finally signed off on,” Bas added. “That’s been the biggest thorn in our sides so far.”

“Right?” Elijah grunted. “I would’ve never guessed that was going to be the holdup on this project.”

“Sounds good.” I jogged confident nods at them both as I turned for the door. “I’ll be in my office until then.”

My own office was on the same floor as Sebastian’s but on the opposite end of the building. As I approached my door, my assistant smiled up at me. Reina had been with me for seven years now, and she was top-notch at almost every single task I threw at her.

“Good morning, Mr. Twombley.”

“Good morning, Reina. How are you this morning?”

“No complaints so far. Hot yoga, ancient grains, and kale smoothie are on board, so I’m ready to go. How’s your morning so far?”

Yes, my assistant was a California girl, through and through. She had crystals hanging from every available place around her desk, smelled of patchouli at all times, and had just recently cut off the dreadlocks she’d cultivated for five years.

Thank God.

“Not too bad. I have a meeting back in the big man’s office at ten, then another at noon, so I’m going to try to tackle that stack on my desk until then.”

“All right. Let me know if I can help you with anything. Don’t forget you have a two o’clock with the sea-container vendor, and the journalist from LA Bachelor will be here to interview you at three.”

“I wish I had never agreed to that,” I said, leaning against my door. “What good could possibly come of it?”

“If I remember correctly,” my assistant answered warmly, “the feature is going to focus on local philanthropists, and they were particularly interested in the volunteer work you do with Second Chances. It will be a great way to get exposure for the organization and bring more awareness to the needs right here in our city. I know you didn’t ask for my opinion, but I think you should do it.” She held my gaze while she finished making her point.

“You’re right. As usual. Thank you for reminding me not to be so selfish.”