The Takeover (The Miles High Club 2)

He rolls his eyes.

“Now, I’ve packed you a lunch. Don’t get into the habit of buying it. You will waste a fortune.”

“Mom.” Fletcher gives a subtle shake of his head.

“Because . . . you know? What you start doing in this first job will lay the foundation for your entire working career. I want you to build good habits. This is an opportunity to learn, Fletch. Watch and learn, but always remember that you are an Anderson.” I pull my fingers through his hair.

He smiles down at me. “I will.”

“Being smart in business doesn’t mean you have to be cutthroat,” I remind him.

“I know; we talked about this.” He sighs.

“Your father was such a good man, Fletch, with the highest of morals.”

He smiles broadly.

It’s my greatest fear that Tristan is going to rub off on this young and impressionable boy. My eyes fill with tears at the mere prospect.

“Mom. Stop.”

I put my hands over my mouth as I stare up at my handsome son. “I’m sorry, honey. I’m just so nervous for you.”

“Why?”

“Because this is a big deal, and I don’t want you to mess it up.”

“Mom.” He sighs. “I stuffed underpants in the boss’s mouth before I even got the job. I’m pretty sure I’ve already messed it up as much as physically possible.”

I hold my forehead as I stare at him. “God, please don’t remind me. That will forever be the most mortifying moment of my life.” I go back to fiddling with his tie to distract myself.

“Worked out.”

I frown. “What does that mean?”

“Well, he never came back.” He smirks.

“We were just friends, Fletcher. He was never coming back anyway . . . long before you did that. Don’t flatter yourself. If he and I were actually a thing, do you really think that would deter him?”

“Hmm.” He shrugs, not believing me.

I’ll never admit the truth—that he’s right, and just as he planned, it really did work. Tristan never contacted me again after that fateful day. He went from coming to my house to pursue me . . . to never calling again. It says a lot about him and the gumption he has—or lack of it. Anyway, who cares?

Good riddance. I’m actually grateful that Fletcher scared him off. Saved me the job and stopped things from dragging out.

“Just remember to be professional,” I remind him.

“I know.”

“And use your manners.”

He rolls his eyes.

“And if you get into trouble, what do you do?”

“Go to the bathroom, and count to ten to calm down.” He sighs.

I smile as I fix his hair. “That’s it, Fletch.” I smile up at him. “You’re going to be great.”