Page 35 of Austin

She doesn’t want a thing from me, which makes me want to show her the world. Getting in her pants would be worth opening my wallet for.

“What’s wrong with you?” Bryce asks, interrupting my dirty thoughts about his assistant.

“Always good to see you, too, brother.”

He looks at me with a wary eye as he walks behind his desk. “Last week, I couldn’t get you to answer my calls. Now, you’re here, unannounced, for the second morning in a row.”

I hate when he’s right. “There’s no winning with you.”

He narrows his eyes, as if he’s working through a puzzle in his head. “You’re not drinking.”

“I don’t drink every day,” I say defensively, causing him to accusatorily raise a brow. “You know what your problem is? You need to get laid.”

His posture stiffens. “What I do on my personal time is none of your business.”

“Did I touch on a soft spot? What’s the matter? No assistants to …” My words trail off as my attention goes right to the door where Jalynn is seated on the other side.

Bryce doesn’t seem to notice my distraction. “It only happened twice, so stop making it seem like I sleep with all of my assistants. And, for the record, I didn’t sleep with the last one, so it would do us both a world of good if you stopped spreading rumors.”

“Yeah,” I mutter.

“Just tell me you actually did something today besides think about my damn love life.”

His love life?

I rapidly blink my eyes and try to figure out what the fuck my brother is talking about. When it comes to Bryce, the words love and life aren’t synonymous with one another. He’s driving on autopilot to becoming the world’s first living heart donor.

I throw the file I’m holding onto his desk, Frisbee-style. “Finalized and signed. Yes, that’s the Under Armour account. They’re taking digital and print ads out on all platforms. You’re welcome.”

We’ve been working on this account all year, and at one point, Bryce swore, it was a waste of time. Maybe now he’ll get off my back.

He opens the file, verifying what I already told him. Tossing it back to the desk with a nod, he goes back to typing on his computer like what I just said wasn’t a huge deal.

“That’s it? No, Hey, good job, little bro?”

“You want me to kiss your ass for doing your job?”

“No, I want you to kiss my ass for saving that account.”

“You could have just emailed it to me.”

“And miss seeing the happiness and joy on your face?”

“Fuck off.”

“As always, nice chatting with you.” I exit the room, shaking off the feeling that he tends to leave me with and am confronted with another awkward feeling. Disappointment.

Bryce’s quick-tongued assistant is not at her desk. I peer into the newsroom but don’t see her in there either. I could go on a stalking mission, but that would be … well, stalking. Instead, I head to get a cup of coffee.

I’m walking down the hall when my cell phone rings. Tanner, with his ridiculous man bun, shows up on my screen.

“Please tell me you’ve cut that hair of yours,” I say as I answer.

“Most people start conversations by saying hello,” he says with a laugh.

“Not my style. What’s up, little man? Counting down your final days of freedom?”

Tanner is set to graduate from Columbia in a few months, and once he does, it’ll be a lifetime of doom and Sexton Media for him.