Your Fierce Love (The Bennett Family)(6)

At the wedding, I tried not to focus on how beautiful she was in her red  dress. Yesterday I tried not to notice how perfectly her skirt fit her,  or imagine what's underneath. I failed on both accounts. Truthfully,  I've been failing at not noticing every detail about Clara for a long  time. If there's ever been a time to succeed, it's now. Until Saturday,  I'd better become a pro at it.

She's a family friend, an adopted Bennett, and those are off-limits for  good reasons. Clara is more off-limits than anyone else. She doesn't  have any family, damn it, and it's clear how much she loves being close  to mine. I'm not going to make a mess of that. When it comes to women,  making a mess is my specialty. I will be the best neighbor and friend I  can be, make sure she's comfortable here.

Ross, my location manager, is waiting in the kitchen. It's the down-time  between lunch and dinner, but we're still half-full, so the chefs and  sous-chefs are buzzing around.

I co-own this place, two more restaurants, and the bar with Alice. Since  she moved to London when Nate was made the executive producer of a  famous TV show there, I'm in charge of overseeing day-to-day operations,  and she focuses heavily on the business side that doesn't require her  presence-mostly marketing and strategic planning. I say mostly because  she still keeps a close eye on operations here at Blue Moon since it's  our flagship location. She promised that she'd take a break while on her  honeymoon. She kept her promise for all of two days.                       
       
           


///
       

"The meeting will be short," I tell him. "As you know, Alice is on her  honeymoon. We already discussed that she'll be off the grid until she's  back in London, but a mishap occurred today. Apparently, she exchanged  fifteen e-mails with you. I want you to set an auto-responder to your  e-mail for any messages coming from her address, saying,

"You are currently on your honeymoon. All your emails will be forwarded  to Blake Bennett, and you will only receive an answer once you are back  from your honeymoon.

Kind regards,

Your Faithful Team Who Insists You Need Time Off"

Ross looks somewhere between skeptical and terrified. For God's sake, has he no sense of humor?

"In a nutshell, don't answer any of Alice's e-mails, and under no circumstances will you send her any. I'll handle everything."

"What about the weekly report?" he asks in a timid voice. Yeah, Alice  promised me she wouldn't request said report because she knows herself  and will start firing off twenty e-mails the second she finishes reading  it. I'm just saving my sister from herself with these measures.

"Don't send it to her."

"But what if-"

Right, the laid-back way isn't going to work today. Luckily, I'm not  only excellent at laying the charm thick in person, but also displaying  authority. "No ifs. Under no circumstances will you bother my sister.  I'll handle any complaints from her. Understood?"

Ross nods quickly.

"Excellent. This meeting is over unless you have other open points."

***

After a few minutes of working through minor issues, I head inside the  restaurant, where I find my brother Christopher at one of the tables.  He's the chief operations officer at Bennett Enterprises. Smart like a  whip, I like to pick his brain about ways to make our own structures  more efficient.

"You brought Chloe. What a surprise!"

Chloe is his wife's much younger sister. Victoria's parents died in an  accident a few years ago, and she raised her teenage sister Sienna as  well as the much younger Lucas and Chloe. Without her stepping up to the  plate, they could have ended up in group homes, like Clara.

"Victoria couldn't make it to pick her up today, so I did. Brought her by for a treat. We just arrived."

"Do you want your usual, Chloe?"

She nods decisively, and I ask a waiter to bring her chocolate cookies.

"School better?" I ask, dropping in the chair next to her.

"Lessons are okay, but a boy put a grasshopper in my backpack today."

"And she wants revenge," Christopher explains.

"If you need any tips, I'm the one to ask. Growing up, I was the master-"

"Master of disaster," Christopher cuts in. "You want to be sneaky and  get away with it, I'm your contact person. This one's creative but  always gets caught." He throws his thumb in my direction.

"Says the one who once had his twin brother kiss his girl on a scheme he masterminded."

Christopher cocks a brow. "That happened one time when I was sixteen, and only because the logistics were too complex."

"What's logitis mean?" Chloe asks with a lovely frown.

I ruffle her hair. "A fancy way to say details."

"I like details better."

"So do I. But some adults like to use big words to cover up their messes."

My brother narrows his eyes. I love giving him shit, especially when he provokes me.

"I am going to wash my hands before I get my cookies," Chloe exclaims.  She rushes off to the restroom, and I point my forefinger at  Christopher.

"Everyone knows you and Max were the successful prankster duo. Daniel  and I were a lousy competition, and I have no problem giving you credit  where credit is due. But don't make me lose face with the kids. It's a  matter of principle."

Christopher grins. "Duly noted. Now let's talk business."

"Yeah. I appreciate you taking time for this. Let's mastermind together."

They are constantly improving operations, introducing better reporting  systems and whatnot at Bennett Enterprises. Of course, the company is a  mammoth compared to what Alice and I are doing, but we can learn a lot  from them.

We're deep in debate whether it makes sense for Alice and me to  implement one of their more complex pieces of software, and Chloe's  already on the second serving of cookies, when my phone pings with a  notification. It's from the bookshelf company, confirming delivery on  Friday. I can't wait to see Clara's reaction.





CHAPTER FOUR

Clara



Next Saturday, on the morning of my move, I wake up with an infectious energy.                       
       
           


///
       

I double-check every corner of the apartment, making sure I haven't  forgotten anything. Everything I own is packed in ten large boxes, not  including the furniture, which is lined up against the wall. It's all  from IKEA, so it's easy to disassemble and then reassemble in the new  apartment. The couch will be a little more challenging to move. It's  modular, and I separated each section, but it's still rather large and  cumbersome to get through doors.

At ten o'clock sharp, there's a knock on my door. I scramble to answer in a flurry.

"Morning, almost-neighbor," Blake says.

"Come in."

He insisted on helping me move, and I enjoy his company too much to turn  down the offer. Now, surveying him from head to foot as he enters the  apartment, I wonder if it was a bad idea.

He's wearing jeans and a burgundy polo shirt that reveals his  muscle-laced arms. The memory of those arms keeping me tight against him  after my almost-fall is still too fresh on my mind.

"Let's start. Here are my prized possessions." I open my arms, pointing  with one to the stack of furniture against the wall and with the other  to the boxes.

"That's all you got?"

"Yep. Told you I didn't have much. I also have a skateboard we can use  to put the boxes on, and even the furniture. That way, we only have to  balance the load, not carry it. So don't worry, you won't break your  back."

"Darling, it would take a lot more to break my back."

I don't know if it's the "darling" or the "a lot" that has me breaking  out in a sweat, but I barely swallow the urge to ask A lot of what?

"Okay, let's start."

It takes all of four trips to get my boxes downstairs. However, it takes quite a few more to get my furniture out.

We load the furniture in the moving van Blake brought, the boxes in my  car, and drive separately. An infectious energy fills the space, and I  sing out loud to the music blaring from the radio and clap my hands to  the rhythm while I'm waiting at a red light. I know I'm being  ridiculous, but I don‘t care. I'm enjoying this too much. My life is too  damn good not to be celebrated every step of the way.

When Blake pushes the door to the apartment open some twenty minutes  later, I'm prepared to see a cleaner version of the same apartment, but  instead I'm flummoxed. The southern wall has a new coat of paint, in the  exact shade I've told him. And my dream bookshelf is exactly where I  want it too.

I turn around. "Blake-"

"Stop right there."

"What?"

"Sounds like you're about to admonish me."

I chuckle. "Not at all. Thank you for the paint and the bookcase. Let me know the costs, and I'll reimburse you."