Illegal Contact (The Barons 1)

His eyes opened wide, shocked that Gavin Brawley would admit to being wrong. His lips moved like he was working out a good response, but instead of addressing my pity party, he changed the subject.

“Is there anything you want done by next Monday that I can get a head start on during the weekend? It would just be more time efficient if I could research mechanics and service people at home and then arrange for them to come in advance.”

“That would be going outside of your hard-won schedule,” I pointed out. “Isn’t that what we said?”

“Yeah, well, obviously, that doesn’t work with a job like this. I can be flexible.”

“I bet you can. Lover boy will probably benefit from it tonight.”

Noah gave another of his award-winning flat and unimpressed stares.

“Don’t be so uptight,” I said.

“Stop commenting on my private life.”

“You brought it up,” I said. “But I guess you finding dates at work is sort of your MO.”

Noah’s face went blood red and the veins in his forehead bulged. Likely from the way he was keeping himself from cursing me out. I wouldn’t blame him if he did. I was being a miserable bastard just because I was lonely and depressed.

“I’m going,” he said. “Text me if you need anything.”

He turned on his heel, shoulders tense and hands curled into fists, and I was struck by a sudden desire to not have him be incredibly pissed at me. I’d been giving him a hard time for days, and he’d yet to truly complain. Not to mention, he’d done everything I asked except show up on time.

“Hey.”

“What?” he snapped.

“Can you look up some charities? My agent wants me to pretend I’m a philanthropist so people can stop thinking I’m a monster.”

Noah glanced at me over his shoulder. “You want me to do this?”

“Yeah. That’s your thing, right?”

“Right. And you don’t have any particular preference?”

“No.” I frowned. “Well, maybe have it be for kids.” Another pause. “Kids in group homes or homeless kids. That’s a thing, right?”

All traces of his irritation were replaced with curiosity that was clearly piqued. He’d half turned back to me with his head cocked. “It’s definitely a thing, and I’ll enjoy doing it.”

“Good.” I looked down at my phone but could still feel his eyes on my face. “Now go get laid. I expect an entertaining anecdote on Monday morning.”

“Not gonna happen, Gavin. Text me if you need anything else.”

I said nothing and, once again, stared at his ass as he walked out. Even if he didn’t give me the details, his hookup would be fodder for me later. Trying to figure out whether he got loud in bed, or if he just laid there and bit his lip trying not to give anything away, would make for fun fantasies.

Which was a pretty good indicator that I needed to get laid myself.

Chapter Six

Noah

Gavin Brawley was trying to drive me insane.

Monday had started with him in an awful mood. He’d been barking orders at me one minute and then asking me probing questions about my life the next. In fact, after all that, Case had rescheduled our date at the last minute, but Gavin would still not let go of the topic. Then he’d sent me back and forth to the store because the bread I’d purchased was two grams of protein off from the perfect kind. Not to mention he’d finally let me into his “office” so I could start organizing the space and had failed to mention there were literally thousands of envelopes sitting in a giant Rubbermaid container on the floor.

I hadn’t even gotten to the point where I could contact Joe or Mel to start figuring out how they wanted to work with me in terms of shifting off scheduling and correspondence. Apparently, Gavin was notorious for never replying to anyone or returning their calls.

After a stressful morning, I decided to escape the house by cooking lunch on his grill. It belonged in a professional restaurant and, judging by the price tags still dangling when I’d first opened it, had never been touched by anyone other than me. After summers of barbecuing on our fire escape or in the park, I was a pro at grilling. I fired the damn thing up after finding charcoal and lighter fluid, threw a few turkey burgers on, and hunched over my phone.

“Hey, boo!”

“I’m going to quit.”

Jasmine rolled her eyes at me. Seeing her facial expressions was the top reason I used FaceTime with her.

“You haven’t even gotten a paycheck yet. Why would you quit?”

“Because this is stressing me out.” I slumped back on one of the lawn chairs and glared down at the pool. “Between his hot-and-cold attitude and the fact that I’m stacked two weeks deep in to-do lists, and me having to get up at the crack of dawn to make it over here, it’s just not going to work. There’s no way I can do it for six months.”