a nice time. I left early this morning and apparently left my credit card behind. That’s it.”
That is it—more or less.
But when I say it like that, it feels too simple. Too cut-and-dry. Too much like I met some random man in an equally random place and slept with him, and that was that. Because while all that is true, there’s a thread to it that isn’t.
Holt.
Not one single thing about that man is ordinary. He’s not the man you meet in a bar or the acquaintance you agree to hook up with because you’re desperate for a release after a workweek from hell. Those types of guys deliver mediocre, forgettable performances. I’m usually neck-deep in work briefs with a laser focus by ten o’clock the next morning, not having a discussion with my brother’s girlfriend about the events of the night before.
So while that might be it, it also might not be a complete summary of the events of the evening. I still might be figuring that out.
Sienna sucks in a breath. “You’re totally going to call him and go get it, right?”
My stomach rumbles, reminding me that I haven’t eaten. My heartbeat races at the thought of seeing Holt again. My insides twist as I try to determine what the best course of action is to resolve this predicament.
“He’s the perfect vacation fling, you know,” Sienna says cautiously.
“He was a great one-night stand.” I get to my feet. “I need to go, Sienna, and deal with this card issue. Thank you for calling me and letting me know where it is.”
“I am going to teach you how to be a sister yet.”
I chuckle. “We’ll talk soon.”
“Hopefully with more detail.”
“Goodbye, Sienna,” I say, holding back a laugh.
“Bye, Blaire.”
I end the call but leave the phone in my hand. With my hair wet against my shoulders, I stare at the device and wonder what to do.
Nine
Holt
“And then Wade acted like I was crazy,” Boone says. “I told him to go double-check his facts and call me back and maybe I’d answer. Can you believe that?”
“Nope.”
I give myself a mental pat on the back for getting the timing right with my response. I have no clue what he’s talking about nor do I care.
Boone is the youngest of my brothers but only eighteen months after Coy. The two of them were buddies growing up while Ollie and I book-ended the other side. That left Wade in the middle. He’s now your proverbial middle child with two older CEOs on one side of him and two heathens on the other. Sometimes, I feel sorry for him … especially when Boone is on his back.
The late morning sun streams through my office windows as my brother starts in again.
“Anyway,” Boone begins, “Mom called this morning and wants everyone over for brunch next week since Coy will be home. I’m supposed to spread the word.”
I tap the edge of Blaire’s credit card against my desk. Each tap makes it seem like my brain is being split farther in two.
Half of it is here, in my office, processing my conversation with Graham Landry and listening to Boone. The other half is perplexed with a dark-haired woman who I’m now considering might be fucking with me.
I don’t really believe that. She’s not the game-playing type. I’m positive about that. Mostly. But she’s also not the leave-your-credit-card-behind kind of woman, yet here I sit, holding it. It makes a man wonder if this is a game or some fucked-up gift from above.
“You’re coming, right?” Boone asks.
I sit back in my chair and pull my thoughts back to the present. “Of course.”
“Okay. I’ll let her know.”
“Like Mom’s not going to call us all and give us a run-down on her menu and ask if we have any requests.”
“She asked for my help,” he says with a hint of pride. “I’m just doing what I said I would.”
I scoff. “Whatever. She’s just trying to keep you busy so you keep your dick out of … what’s-her-name.”
I can hear Boone’s jaw drop. Or maybe it’s just the way he gasps and hides a chuckle right after. Either way, his reaction makes me laugh.
“Mom does not know who my dick is in,” Boone says.
“The hell she doesn’t. Mom knows everything, and the sooner you realize that, the better.”
“She can’t possibly know I’m fucking Daphne Monroe.”
The edge of Blaire’s card presses into my thigh as I move it back and forth.
“Boone,” I deadpan. “You don’t think Daphne is running her mouth to