Page 115 of Hard to Handle

ALL EYES FOCUS ON ME.

Brexton lifts her eyebrows. “Well?”

“Well, what?” I ask as I glance at the notes that have nothing to do with this status meeting on my notepad, but pretend to find them interesting.

“Hunter? The client you’ve been”—Chase coughs—“err . . . not talks, just sex, recruiting.”

My cheeks flush with heat. “What about him?”

They’re the queens of being difficult, so I’ll take pleasure in being difficult for once.

“You’ve written a status sheet every week for the past few months, and it seems the only thing that’s going down isn’t your finger to the keys to fill us in on what’s going on but rather”—she looks at our dad and shrugs apologetically before looking me straight in the eye—“well, you on Hunter.”

Her smile is cold and unmoving while the rest of us in the conference room choke back shocked laughter.

“Seriously, Chase? Should we go through your exploits? How about when you—?”

“Ladies!” My dad’s voice thunders around the conference room, and the sudden bickering approaching DEFCON 3 suddenly quiets. We all turn to look at him. “Let’s keep this meeting focused, as I’m sure you’re all incredibly busy. Right?”

“Busy?” Lennox chokes on her laugh. “Sounds to me like Dekker’s been plenty busy.”

Another round of laughter ensues followed by me scratching the side of my cheek with my middle finger. “Screw off.”

Poor choice of words . . . I realize the minute I say them.

“There’s that too,” Brex chimes in.

“It’s all fun and games until you have to face the music,” Chase says in that singsong voice that annoys me. “So tell us, Dekk . . . just what’s been going on with Hunter and his stick?”

I stand and pace to the window, hating, embarrassed, and feeling on the defensive that I really don’t have much to report. The favorite child has failed.

I’m more than aware that they’re all staring at my back as I watch the clouds building across the skyline, and I wonder if we’ll get to watch the thundershowers sometime soon.

“Dekk?” my father asks.

Shit.

Time to face the music.

“I’m starting my conversation by reminding all of you that while your caseloads have remained the same, I’ve become the guinea pig for Operation Fuck You, Sanderson,” I say as I turn around, cross my arms over my chest, and lean my hips against the credenza at my back. I meet each one of their eyes.

“Just give Sanderson that look and his balls will shrivel off,” Lennox mutters. “Problem solved.”

But it’s the “Pretty please” that Chase murmurs that has us all laughing again.

“I have a meeting in twenty minutes in this conference room, so we need to get through this,” my dad warns, and it still takes a few moments for our laughter to subside.

“Hunter Maddox.” I draw in a deep breath and vacillate between the truth, somewhere close to the truth, and letting my father down wholly. “He knows I’m recruiting him. He knows we have a vested interest—”

“Vested, my ass.” Lennox laughs, but I meet Brexton’s eyes and her smile encourages me to continue.

“Truth be told, he knows why I was on the road trip. He knows why I’m there, but he’s going through a lot of shit. I’m helping him through it. I’m . . .” in love with him. My breath catches at the words I’ve skated around in my mind for what feels like days but I’ve known for longer. I blink away the tears that flood and pray no one caught them. My hands fist where they’re hidden beneath my elbows, crossed because I don’t show emotion. I don’t—

. . . they’re on your sleeve when it comes to me.

Hunter’s voice floods my head from those beginning days on the road trip, and I smile, because he’s right. I do.

And isn’t that part of this?