7 Months (Time for Love 8)

“What about the next day, or the day after that?” Brock asked, not giving me an inch.

“I was fine. Uninjured. I didn’t think it mattered.”

When Brock glared and looked ready to breathe more fire, I admitted, “And I was ashamed. I shot a man, Brock. Aimed for his leg, but still, I shot someone.”

I watched Brock calm a bit at the obvious tension in my voice, but knew I wasn’t off the hook yet, so I added, “And I’ll promise you the same thing I promised Ming, when something like that happens at work, I’ll take the time to shoot you guys a text and let you know I’m okay. It’s just nothing like that ever happened before, and I didn’t think … I’ll do better next time.”

“Okay,” Brock said, his anger defused, then pulled me in for a quick, hard hug. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

I nodded, then turned to Brendan, who was still wearing that look.

“What, are you giving me the silent treatment?” I asked, half joking, then realized when he didn’t respond that he was doing exactly that. “Jesus, Bren, grow up.”

Brendan had been the king of the silent treatment all through our youth, and since I went out of my way to push his buttons, I was often on the receiving end of it. He hadn’t given me the treatment in years, so I’d figured he’d grown out of it; guess I just hadn’t made him mad enough.

I’ll have to work on that…

“C’mon, Brandt’s waiting,” Brock said, turning toward the elevator.

I caught Brendan’s eye and stuck my tongue out at him, then hit him on the shoulder with a laugh.

“C’mon, Bren, you can’t stay mad at me.”

Then, in true spoiled younger brother fashion, he ignored me and stomped off after Brock.

Shaking my head, I followed.

“Morning, gentleman,” Carson Brandt said as his secretary, Michael, ushered us into his office.

He stood up behind his desk, his slate-gray suit fitting him so well it actually made me want to go out and buy one.

With jet-black hair and blue eyes, Carson Brandt had it going on. The looks, the money, the status, and, he was a helluva nice guy. It made me wonder how he’d wasn’t tied down to some model or something.

Embarrassed that I’d essentially been checking him out, I ducked my head and averted my eyes, only to see Brendan watching me with a goofy grin. When he wiggled his eyebrows at me, I shot him the finger, and he laughed.

It looked like he was already done being pissed at me.

After we’d all

shaken hands and said our “hellos,” Carson led us out of his office and up a couple floors to the studio he’d built.

Since we were walking side by side, I decided to bring up something that Ming and I had talked about after her meeting with Nat.

“Hey, ah, Brandt?”

“Yes?”

“I was wondering if you had any openings in HR, or somewhere where someone with a degree in HR might fit?”

“Mmmm, I might, I’m always looking for good people. Hard workers who would be a good fit for Brandt Industries. And, if I don’t, you can always check with Scott, see if he needs anyone in his area.”

I nodded, thinking it might be awkward to ask Scott for a favor, but realizing I was willing to suck it up to help Nat out.

“Who’s it for, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Our friend, Natalie. You may have seen her bartending at Jake’s; she usually works the night’s we play. She’s going through a tough time, and hasn’t really been working toward her strengths due to a bad situation, but she’s trying to get her life back on track.”

“Well, as an underdog myself, I know those are often the people who will fight the hardest. Shoot me her resume when you get the chance, and I’ll look it over.”