Millionaire Boss (Freeman Brothers 1)

I’d already had that conversation with my brothers. They came over for our usual Sunday night time around the bonfire, and I made a point of pulling them aside so I could talk to them without my parents overhearing. Giving them a quick rundown of a made-up story was one thing. Telling my parents was something completely different. My brothers were guys, I justified. They’d been there before and knew what it was like to get wrapped up in a woman. Maybe they hadn’t gone quite as far as I had. As far as I knew, none of them had ever had sex with a woman at work, especially a woman they weren’t in a relationship with.

But as the oldest brother, I figured it was my job to set that precedent. Maybe.

I didn’t really have any expectations for how they were going to react. The possibilities were spread far across the spectrum, so I just had to take each one as it came. Fortunately, it wasn’t too bad. They weren’t delighted with my impulsivity by a long shot, but it wasn’t so much the sex in the office they were concerned about. Instead, it was who I’d chosen. Each of them went straight for the warnings, reminding me how good Merry was for the company and that everyone liked her. Even Vince and Nick liked her, and they had only encountered her briefly at the races. But they knew well enough to know she was good for the team and was doing fantastic work for the company. Losing her wasn’t an option, according to all four.

Which was good, because I didn’t want to lose her, either. I wanted to keep her. Except I was thinking about it in a different way than they were. While my brothers worried about her leaving the company, I was only thinking of how much I wanted to have her as a much closer part of my life. But that wasn’t an option. Having her stay at the company was the most I could ask for, and that meant staying out of her way and not causing any more trouble.

The longer we talked, the more I thought Brandon seemed to have no clue what happened. He didn’t look at me or speak to me any differently than he had before. And he definitely didn’t mention it, which would have been so awkward I might not have been able to live through it. He just talked and updated like nothing was different, and finally the meeting was over.

It was a relief to close the door behind Brandon and be in my office alone for a while. It wasn’t him. I liked talking to him and hoped eventually I’d be able to be in the room with him without immediately thinking of his sister. Right then, it was really anybody. I just wanted to be alone with my thoughts. I had press release stuff I needed to finish up and send to Merry to post; then I needed to respond to a slew of emails I’d put off for a couple days. After that, I was seriously considering spending the rest of the day in the garage. There was work to be done on the bikes, including two new ones we’d just bought. Getting my hands dirty might be just the thing I needed to help with the restless feeling under my skin.

Responding to the emails took longer than I expected. There was some interest from new sponsors, but I had to weed through the spam offers and strange attempts at creating partnerships to get to them. Merry had already told me I’d probably be hearing from people who would try to present themselves as internet celebrities or influencers who could get the company’s name in front of their legion of followers. With sponsored posts, of course, and with the expectation of other perks and privileges to go along with it. Those aggravated me, both because of their arrogance and because they wasted my time.

Finally, I was finished with my emails and had nothing else to do that required me to be in the office. At least, nothing I couldn’t comfortably leave until the next day. I was ready to go down to the garage and spend some time with my brother and father, blast music, and let my mind go for a while.

As soon as I walked into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water to bring with me outside, I knew I wasn’t making it down to the garage unscathed. Standing at the counter over a pan of fresh cornbread was my mother. She turned on me, and the look on her face told me everything I needed to know.

She knew. I don’t know how. I don’t know who told her or what version they told her. But she knew.