Handle With Care (Shacking Up 5)

“Lincoln’s right,” G-mom says from over the speakerphone. I didn’t want to interrupt her vacation, but I felt like her input on this would be helpful, so we conferenced her in. “A merger is the most cost-effective, financially responsible move.”

“My meeting with Wentworth is next week. That gives us enough time to run the numbers and see what we can offer as a buy-in.”

“What about me?” Armstrong gripes.

“Your last meeting with Wentworth resulted in Moorehead losing the potential merger, so you’ll get to sit this one out. I have a phone conference in twenty minutes, so if we’re done here, I’ll thank all of you for attending and we can reconvene next week after the meeting. Nash, I’d like those numbers before the end of the day tomorrow, is that possible?”

“I’ll make it happen.”

“Thank you. Enjoy the rest of your trip, G-mom.”

“I’ll call you later, Lincoln.” I smile as she ends the call, aware the G-mom slip is probably the reason for her annoyed, but amused tone. I gather up my things and head down the hall, feeling a little lighter, knowing that we have a potential solution, as long as I can get Wentworth to agree.

I pass Wren’s office on the way back to mine—I took the long way, but she’s still not there, which is frustrating, because all I want to do is share the possible good news with someone who will actually care.

When I get back to my office, I drop into my chair and start organizing my desk, my bad mood returning when I shuffle the folder with my prospective dates aside. Having her hand me the folder in the first place was a pisser, but worse is that she never answered my question, so I don’t know if she has a date for this thing or not.

I should make someone tell her she can’t bring a date. I mean, she’s supposed to be dealing with me, and probably Armstrong, at the event. She can’t have a date and do her job. Wren is mine.

As that thought comes barreling into my brain like a shotgun blast, I realize it’s a problem. The very idea is problematic. As is the jealousy I’m currently feeling over a date I can’t even be sure exists.

But now that I’m thinking about it, I can’t stop—again. I don’t know what she does in her spare time, not that she has much of it with the hours she pulls. But still, she could be dating. I know she doesn’t have a boyfriend. At least, I assume she doesn’t. She’d have mentioned a boyfriend if there were one. I think, anyway.

I pull up her social media accounts and comb her posts. Mostly it’s pictures of flowers or parks, or her with her parents at various events. It’s all a bunch of staged photo ops from what I can see, but there are no boyfriend pics. She has a fish tank, but no other pets. She likes to make salad and take pictures of that, which is ironic since her favorite snack is Cheez-Its. She always has a bag of them in her desk. I’m pretty sure she uses it as a salad topping.

I give up after another fifteen minutes of searching with no luck. The last time she posted a picture of her with a guy who wasn’t a family member was more than a year ago—yes, I went back that far. I still kind of want to punch the guy out, even though it’s not rational.

I also need to get a grip, because clearly, she and I are not on the same page if she’s bringing me a portfolio full of potential dates for this event. I’ll be able to get a clear answer out of her about the date situation when we do the tux fitting. Whenever that is. She didn’t even give me a time. I’m sure it’ll magically appear in my calendar, and there will be seven hundred alerts to go with it. I can make it clear I need her attention on me, not some guy who probably wants to go out with her so he can climb ladders and get into her panties. If she’s even wearing any.

My phone rings, pulling me out of my head and back into reality. Carlos’s name flashes across the screen, so I answer the call and put it on speakerphone. “Hey, my man, how are things going without me there?”

“Good, great even. We’re on schedule with the wells and building materials showed yesterday. The crew is going to break ground in the morning.”

I cross over to the window and look down at the sprawling park, wishing I were out there, or better yet, in Guatemala. Breaking ground has always been one of my favorite parts, and I’m sad I’m missing it, but glad they’re managing without me. “Anything I can do to help from my end?” I ask.