A remote-controlled monster truck sped down the hall, narrowly missing Landon’s toes before crashing into the baseboard. The recently installed, special-order, Macassar Ebony baseboards. He pulled in a deep breath. The slapping sound of tennis shoes on the wooden floor followed the path of the car as Lyon blew past. “Careful, buddy!” he called to his nephew. Then to Angel he repeated, a little desperately, “I can’t take off this week.”
The truck slammed into his ankle and he bit back a curse. “Lyon!” His nephew’s eyes grew wide and Landon promptly slapped a patient smile on his face despite the pain in his foot. “Not in the house, okay, buddy?”
“Okay, Uncle Landon,” he said, lifting the car and stamping in the other direction again.
Landon limped into the sanctuary of the carpeted living room. “Help me, Angel, you’re my only hope.”
She laughed, at his expense, but he was beyond caring. The mighty Lyon Downey had defeated him. “Well, you can’t ask Evan to leave his immersion workshop.”
“Give me a little credit.” He knew what this workshop meant to his youngest brother. Evan hadn’t done much for himself since his wife died and he’d become a single dad. His MO up until six months ago had been caring for Lyon and making as much money as possible at his tattoo shop. Then he’d started painting on the side, for fun, or so he’d told everyone. But it wasn’t Evan’s dark, broody cartoon-style works that had captured Landon’s attention. It was the light back in his brother’s eyes. Evan had finally started living again instead of just surviving.
Next thing he knew, Evan was calling to let him know a friend of Angel’s had a friend in the children’s book publishing industry.
“He needs to create five more paintings this week for his agent,” Angel said, still arguing her point.
“I know that.”
“He could be a real illustrator, Landon. You have to find another way. Ever since Rae died, he’s been marginalizing the things he wants. It’s about time—”
“Angel.” She stopped speaking. “I’m not going to ask Evan to bail me out.”
“Okay. I’m sorry. I just… I want him to succeed.”
He smiled. Although a few years younger than him, Angel had always acted the part of mother hen to her brothers—Landon included. She’d gotten worse since Mom died. But Angel wasn’t the only one who wanted the best for Ev. Landon wanted him to succeed, too. His brother’s tattoo shop was profitable, successful, and, until the artwork of his heart had gotten attention in the literary world, all he’d wanted to do. Now his paintings were all he could talk about. Landon wouldn’t deny him this opportunity. No way.
“Can you delegate a portion of your work and lessen the load?” she asked, back on task. “You’ll still be able to get things done… just maybe not as much as you’re used to.”
This account was too important to take his hands off it. But he wouldn’t miss an opportunity to tease her. What were big brothers for? “Sure. You want to set a project aside and take the lead on Windy City? Maybe today while you’re in town?” She was scheduled to fly in this morning to handle a pitch for Holstein Electronics. A pitch he needed her, as the head of his art department, to nail. A pitch he’d never in a million years ask her to skip.
Predictably, she took him at his word. “You can’t be serious!” Her voice went an octave higher. “You asked me to bump up the Holstein account so we can get the billboard design done by next Tuesday! I’ll barely have time to breathe between flights from Tennessee to Chicago and back.”
“Exactly. And like you, the rest of my staff is buried. The delegation thing? Not going to happen.”
Angel heaved a sigh, then blew out the word “okay” before falling silent while she thought. A moment later, he heard her snap her fingers, a sign she’d landed on an idea. “What about the day care in your building?”
“What? No.” He wouldn’t abandon his nephew in a strange place, not even the day care at work, which he knew was staffed with well-trained professionals. Last night, Lyon had a nightmare because of the change of scenery. Evan had warned Landon it might happen, but nothing had prepared him for the helplessness of holding his nephew and being unable to comfort him. He remembered Lyon’s eyes, wide with terror and filled with tears, his little heart racing against Landon’s chest.
“No,” he repeated firmly.
“Okay… Well, what about a nanny?”