Just What I Needed(18)

Sometimes I’m a complete idiot.

Stepping back, he said, “Got that new number memorized yet?” and pulled out his phone.

I’d given the number out enough times in the past few days I could rattle it off without writing the digits on my wrist every morning.

Ten seconds later my phone buzzed in my purse.

He smirked at me. “Just checking.”

“I’m glad you see the humor in it.”

“I do now. But at the start of my day . . . let’s just say being pissed off isn’t always hell on productivity. I finished twice as many set cutouts as I’d planned.”

“I’m taking credit for that.”

“See you tomorrow, Trinity.”





Four





WALKER





With energy to spare the next morning, I added two miles to my run. During my cooldown in the kitchen, I made the call.

My cousin Nolan demanded, “Why in the name of all that’s holy would you call me this early on a Sunday morning?”

Because I miss you, asshole. “Because you’re a dog and I was providing you with an excuse to shoo the chick in your bed out the door.” I lowered my voice to mimic his. “‘Babe, I’ve gotta help my cousin or he wouldn’t have called so early. Do you mind taking off? But it was great. I’ll call you.’”

“I don’t sound like that,” Nolan retorted. “And FYI: I was sleeping in because no lovely woman warmed my bed last night or this morning.”

“No wonder you’re snapping at me.”

“Whatever. Where were you last night?”

“Building sets for my Lund Cares Community Outreach volunteer project. It went later than I planned. What did you do that kept you from banging the headboard?”

“I worked until midnight.”

I laughed. “Right.”

“I’m serious.”

“You were working at LI?”

“Did you hit yourself in the head with a hammer or something? Of course I was at LI. Where else would I be?”

“Doing what?” As far as I knew, Nolan didn’t have the same level of responsibilities that Brady did as CFO, or our cousin Ash did as COO.

“Ash asked me to look into a few things that are usually under Brady’s purview since he’s busy with the Duarte Foods acquisition. And before you ask, yes, Brady is aware of what’s going on. It’s time-consuming.”

“It’d have to be if you’re burning the midnight oil on the weekend.”

Nolan sighed. “That’s why I’m hoping if you called so blasted early it’s because you have big plans for us today. Something with hot half-naked chicks and cold beer.”

“Sorry to disappoint, but my plans with a hot half-naked chick and cold beer don’t include you. I called to tell you I’m taking ‘Devil’s Plaything’ out for the afternoon. First-come basis with notification. That was our deal.” I wiped my face and chest with a towel. “But if you had plans—”

“I don’t. I might actually stay in bed all day and watch ESPN. The Twins are playing today.”

I considered myself a sports guy—I loved watching football, hockey, basketball, boxing, soccer and MMA. I played soccer and basketball in high school. I was good enough to be a starter, but not good enough to consider pursuing either one on a higher level after high school. I made it to the slopes to ski and snowboard at least half a dozen times in the winter. But the appeal of baseball eluded me.

“Why else did you call?” Nolan asked.

I hated asking for help. Hated it. “So this woman I’m taking to the lake . . . I want to . . .” Just spit it out. “Her ex was a real tool. I’d like to set myself apart from him. What would be a good way to do that?” I held my breath for Nolan’s snarky response, but he didn’t give me one.

“Taking her out on the boat is a great idea. It’s casual, yet intimate. What are you doing for food?”

I groaned. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“You can’t schlep a cooler of beer and a bag of sunflower seeds if you’re gonna be outside all afternoon. But you need to do something classier than a bucket of fried chicken.” He paused. “You tapping that yet?”

“No. Why?”

“If you’re banging her, then food won’t matter because neither of you will be thinking about anything but banging again.”

True.

“You have to impress her enough so she knows you put in extra effort picking the food—but skip eats like caviar, champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries. Totally clichéd douchebag move.”

“Not really my style. But maybe I should stick with sub sandwiches and chips.”