Page 5 of Contingently Yours

Lou’s phone on his desk rings. Picking up the receiver, he’s silent for a moment as I hear the muffled sound of Vera’s voice on the other end, probably asking what she should do since she’s been left to entertain the Hepperlys in the other room.

“I’m working on it. Hang tight. I know. I know,” he grumbles.

Slamming the phone down, he glances at the clock on his wall and grimaces.

His gaze returns to us, pinging between the two of us.

Except now I’m sporting the same fake smile Andrew is.

I’ll feel guilty about that later. Sighing, his lips flatten as they press together.

“Fine, but hear this—if you two fuck this up, I will personally tweeze out your nuts hair.”

Ouch. That’s…specific.

I nod, though, because apparently, I’m willing to lose my nut hair for my baby sisters’ happiness. Andrew slaps his palms together and pops out of his chair. “You’re my favorite uncle, you know that?”

“I’m your only uncle,” Lou mutters, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his eyelids.

Andrew doesn’t wait, heading for the door with hurried steps like a vulture with its eye on a fresh carcass.

I scramble out of my seat and utter my gratitude to Lou for trusting me.

He nods, but looks wary as he glances at his nephew’s retreating back.

I take pride in knowing that means he might have more faith in my professionalism than Andrew’s, but how sad is it that I have to be the more responsible of the two of us when I’m not the one who’s his own kin?

I catch up to Andrew halfway across the lobby, but he doesn’t slow down. Holding my arm out in front of him, I side-step into his path to the conference room door.

“Hold up. We can’t just waltz in there. We need a game plan.”

“I don’t need a game plan. I’ve got this.”

Selfish. He’s so damn selfish. I knew this would happen. He’s going to try to steamroll me the entire time and make me look incapable.

“Did you hear what your uncle said about nut hair?” I whisper. “We need to look like we get along and act like a team.”

“I manscape. I’m good. You can sit this one on the bench and grab the luggage and cappuccinos while I do the important work. Don’t worry your pretty little beard off.” Smiling, he slaps me on the shoulder and steps around me.

God, I hate him. Racing, I step in front of him again. “You can’t be awake 24/7, and it doesn’t matter who makes the sales. It’s a fifty-fifty commission split, so we need to make sure they trust both of us.”

Throwing his head back, he lets out a long breath.

“Would you just calm yourself and let me work my magic? You’ll get your fifty percent.

” Shifting around me, his hand is on the door before I can stop him again.

“Then you can ride off into the sunset in a new monster truck and we won’t ever have to deal with each other again. ”

I don’t own, nor have I ever had the desire to own, a monster truck.

He’s such a pampered ass with a skewed version of the world.

Why can’t he be more like Lou? Lou served his country and then worked for everything he has, from the ground up.

Andrew was clearly handed a job; first by his father, and then by his uncle.

The door is open before I can retort or even imagine kicking him in the small of his back.

I really hate the ideas this man gives me.

Just because I was a soldier doesn’t mean I have violent tendencies.

Every time I see Andrew, though, all I can think of is inflicting physical harm.

Squashing the thoughts, I suck in a breath and hurry on his heels into the room.

Vera’s brows hike momentarily, but then she paints on one of her charming smiles. “Oh! Good. Here are two of our boys right now.”

Andrew bends down and plants a peck on her cheek. “Auntie,” he says sweetly. I’ve only heard him call her ‘ auntie ’ when he wants something. “Have no fear. They’re in capable hands.”

Vera lets out a nervous laugh, but I can’t react. Literally, I can’t. I find myself slack-jawed, staring at Dario Kealey in the flesh. Oh my God, he just made eye contact with me.

Nodding, he smiles and greets, “G’day,” in his signature Australian accent that I’ve heard countless times only on television.

“I love you,” I blurt like some starstruck teenager.

“Glad to hear it, mate, but I’m a bit taken.” He grins and gestures to his husbands.

Holy shit. What is wrong with me?

“I…I mean, I’m a huge fan,” I flounder, but realize that only makes me sound more rabid, like I’m about to ask for an autograph on my forehead.

“You talk about methods that would have come in handy when I was deployed in the Army. My guys would have loved your show if it had been airing at the time I was in.”

“Ooh, a soldier,” another man coos, making me realize I’ve neither introduced myself nor acknowledged anyone else in the room.

The shaggy-haired blond with the diamond stud in his ear and leather cuffs on his wrists, I’m guessing, is the musician of the throuple.

I find myself blushing at the praise in his blue eyes.

The door closes behind Vera on her way out, and I find Andrew looking appalled that I’ve just somehow gotten points in with the clients. He quickly masks his features, however, and does that thing where he slaps his palms together like a used car salesman.

“So, guys, it sounds like you want to take a different kind of adventure,” he enthuses. “I’m Andrew, and this is my partner, Lucas. We are so excited to help you find what you need.”

All three men’s faces light up for some reason. Keenan, a clean-cut looking man in a button-up that contrasts with the more casual attire of his husbands, arches a brow behind the dark frames of his glasses. “You two are a couple?”

A couple? As in…boyfriends? Me and Andrew?

Oh, fuck. How did he get that assumption? As I scan Dario and Mason’s faces, I can see they’re curious and excited for confirmation as well.

I’m jostled by a slap from Andrew’s hand. His arm stays slung across the back of my shoulders, and he gives my biceps a squeeze. I want to shake it off, but remember that we’re supposed to look like two people who can stand each other.

“Yep! Met this cutie when he stumbled into our office four years ago looking for a piloting job.” The confounding words spill from Andrew’s lips like a practiced speech that is the equivalent of a horror story to my ears. Why did he just say that?

I gape at him, waiting for some punch line or to see how he’s going to get his dress shoe out of his mouth as Mason coos, “Aww, you met at work. Brilliant. I love that.”

At the same time, Dario asks me with intrigue, “You can pilot?”

Before I can utter a syllable, Andrew’s hand moves to the back of my neck, where he gives me a little shake. “He sure can. But don’t let this big hunk of man meat fool you. He’s both brains and brawn. He got his real estate license last year.”

“Two years ago,” I correct because I don’t need him speaking for me when he doesn’t know a damn thing about me, but that was the wrong thing to say.

“Sorry, sweetheart.” Flashing the Hepperlys a smile, he adds, “Time flies when you’re in love.”

Keenan sighs and closes his eyes. “Don’t even get me started on dates with these two. Neither one of them can remember what we did last week, but they expect me to remember the anniversaries of our first dates and when we got engaged.”

“You’re a financier, Keen ,” Dario laughs. “You work with numbers all day. How hard is it to remember a couple of dates?”

They erupt into an affectionate squabble over the significant dates in their relationship. When it looks like we’ve been momentarily forgotten, I claw my way out of my shock. Did what I think just happen actually happen?

Angling my head toward Andrew, I scathe under my breath, “What in the hell are you doing?”

“Making this happen,” he murmurs back out of the corner of his mouth. “Just roll with it.”

Roll with it? Is he out of his fucking mind?

The Hepperlys return their attention to us and begin to elaborate on their plans more than what Lou briefly relayed to us.

I’m forced to table my protests to Andrew and take a seat.

There is no way I’m causing a scene, and I honestly can’t think of a way to dig ourselves out of the lie he just told without looking like we’re completely unprofessional.

For the next hour, I take notes, writing down every detail that each of the men says.

If a client wants a cactus garden and purple curtains like their grandmother had, I make sure to note it, just in case I can make it happen.

Andrew…well, Andrew lounges back in his chair with his arm slung over the back of mine like that’s enough to pass off that we’ve laid claim to each other as he mucks it up and agrees with everything they say, throwing out grandiose assurances that we’re going to hook them up.

How he’s sold a single property is beyond me.

Lou was right. This is going to be so much work.

The travel coordination is going to be stressful enough, let alone now adding in the elephant in the room that Andrew created.

Biting my cheek the entire time, I mostly murmur and nod because I’m too preoccupied trying to decide if we should just come clean now and tell them we’re not a couple.

That we, in fact, hate each other. How can they not see that?

I’m pretty sure I look like I want to vomit—Andrew and his stupid arm and pet names.

Cutie. Man Meat. Sweetheart . All I hear each time is mockery and disdain.

I wish they could hear it too. They seem like nice people who don’t deserve to be duped.

Clearly, my counterpart has no soul. Surprise, surprise.