Page 16

ANTON

The executive conference room at Hayes Industries is less than a two-minute walk from my office. Exactly one hundred and fifty-four steps.

Not that I’ve counted.

Which means it’s still too early for me to walk that way for Munch—short for Monday lunch—the weekly lunch meeting where the heads of each department get together to update each other on what is going on, talk strategy, and brainstorm if needed.

And by heads of each department, I mean my siblings and me.

After all, the seven of us are the ones who keep this place running.

Drumming my fingers against the desk, I sigh, staring at the clock, willing it to move faster. This whole morning has crawled. That’s what I get for coming into the office rather than the lab where I belong. Or better yet, spending the morning in the groves.

My laptop dings, the tinny sound echoing through the too quiet air, making the already large space that I share with Hux, who is also rarely here, seem even bigger and more empty.

The empty desk sitting catty-corner to mine, plus the set of four guest chairs forming a circle in the middle of the room, only serve as a reminder of how unused this office is.

If it weren’t for Auggie insisting that we all maintain an office at headquarters, I wouldn’t bother, but this morning it seemed like a wise idea to spend some time here rather than the lab.

I look down, hoping that the email notification will be something—anything—to distract me until it’s food time.

No dice.

The only thing Willa’s prior month’s corporate giving breakdown is good for is putting me to sleep.

Don’t get me wrong; I’m proud of what we do at Hayes with our Hayes Cares program and gladly contribute to it with what we produce in our fields, groves, and greenhouses.

None of that makes me want to read the monthly breakdown of the numbers and the tax implications.

“I didn’t realize you were in this morning,” Jace says, leaning into the office.

Filing Willa’s email, I look up from my laptop, already trying to anticipate what Jace is thinking. As the family wild card, but also the family romantic, he can be hard to read. He’s also the one who knows how to push my buttons.

The button pusher’s button pusher, if you will.

“Yeah, just…” I trail off, my lack of prepped story coming back to bite me.

I just what? Needed quiet? Privacy? To think?

All of that can be accomplished at my lab. Or at home. It’s not like I had a meeting other than Munch, which I regularly slide into late because I’m hoofing it over from the lab or the field.

“You’re hiding,” Jace finishes for me.

Nope, that is not it.

“No.”

“Yup! ”

He throws the single-word comeback over his shoulder as he turns down the hall. I’m up and out of my chair faster than I can think, leaving it spinning behind me.

“Am not!”

Jace doesn’t answer, just keeps heading down the hall, marching straight to the conference room. The doors are already open, Miss Harriett, Hayes’s catering manager, putting the final touches on today’s meal.

“You boys aren’t wastin’ any time today,” she greets us, smiling wide.

Miss Harriett has been in charge of the kitchen at Hayes Industries for as long as I’ve been alive and is easily one of the best cooks in Hickory Hills. If not the best. And every week, she makes sure we eat like royalty at Munch.

“I heard a rumor there was pimento cheese and fried green tomatoes on the menu today,” Jace replies, holding out an arm to give her a side hug.

“What spy do you have in my kitchen?”

She accepts his hug, giving him the side-eye, trying to appraise him for an answer.

“I’m not revealing my sources.”

Shaking her head and tsk-ing, Miss Harriett looks at me. “You know, sometimes I don’t know which one of you is the troublemaker in this family.”

“We take turns,” I answer.

“Are those fried green tomatoes?” Gus asks, stopping short just inside the door.

“Get in line!” I say, pointing at him.

“Yeah,” Jace tacks on, loading up his plate. “Anton didn’t hide out here all morning for you to cut.”

“I wasn’t hiding!”

“Who aren’t you hiding from?” Gus asks as Jace rolls his eyes.

“Sawyer, duh,” Hux answers, appearing in the room .

For fuck’s sake…

I glare at both of them, grabbing my food to go sit at the table. Taking a big bite of my sandwich, I ignore my brothers’ chatter around me. The last thing I need to do is give them any more ammunition. Especially since they’re right.

Maybe not about the hiding part. That’s not the word I would use. But…avoiding. That’s maybe a better term. Because yesterday did not go as planned at all.

Sure, I got the date I needed for Willa’s wedding. But I also feel like Sawyer and I took about six steps backward. I’d finally found an in with her, and thought maybe after running into her at the Giddy Up that we’d be able to find firmer footing. Something to build on.

But no.

To make matters worse, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about how fucking cute she looked covered in powdered sugar. About how I wanted to lick it off her.

“We need to talk about that, by the way,” Hux says, pulling me from my thoughts.

“Talk about what?”

“This whole Sawyer’s my date thing.”

Errr…what?

“What about it?” I ask, trying to play it off.

“Well, she clearly hates you, for one,” Jace says.

“She does not.”

Okay, she does. Which, for some really weird reason, I kinda like.

It makes me want to annoy her more. Lends itself well to me being the designated button pusher that she’s extra cute when she’s all flustered and pissy at me.

Less so when she’s bossy and trying to tell me how to live my life. It’s a fine line.

“She tripped, almost spilled a plate of beignets, and then ran away when you said you were her date, dude! ”

“She was caught off guard.” Because she didn’t know about it…

“Eh,” Gus interjects, sitting down in his designated seat, to the right of the head of the table. “I simply don’t buy that you two are dating.”

If there was a soundtrack playing in the background, this would be the moment the record would scratch, everything slamming to a halt. Did Gus just say dating? Who said anything about dating?

I run the scene in Pour Decisions over Memorial Day weekend back through my mind, step-by-step. I poked, Hux flew off his stool, threatened to pound me into the ground, Gus inserted himself between us, Milo told Hux to knock it off, and then Jace threw down the challenge.

I bet you anything that you can’t find a date to Willa’s wedding.

To which I stupidly replied, I’ll take that bet.

A bet that didn’t involve dating.

Unless I missed something.

I take another bite of my lunch, letting Gus’s comment sink like the lead balloon that it is. Acknowledging it will only give them fuel.

“You are dating, right?” Jace asks.

Fucker…

“What’s going on between Sawyer and me isn’t any of your business.”

“Because bringing a coworker is cheating.”

For fuck’s sake…

“Is it though?” Ewan asks, walking into the room. “Because I thought the deal was just that he had to find a date, could be anyone.”

And with that, Ewan is back at the top of my list of favorite siblings.

“The deal was that it has to be a date , as in, not platonic ,” Hux clarifies. “Since someone here seems to think he is full of such great romantic advice, even though he has zero romantic experience to speak of…”

Oh yeah…that’s what I was giving him shit over—not chasing Dolly down when she had a bit of a meltdown. Fuck, I need to learn to keep my mouth shut.

Hux isn’t wrong about my lack of romantic experience either. Not because I’m incapable like he’s implying though. It’s for other reasons. Reasons I’ve never shared with these guys. Or anyone for that matter.

“Fair,” Ewan says, plopping down at the table with a full plate. “Then, yeah…bringing a coworker would be cheating.”

Five sets of eyes look at me expectantly, like baby brother’s declaration is going to evoke some massive protest from me.

I’m not going to give them what they want.

Nope. I’m going to keep eating my lunch and ignore the knot that is now gnawing at my insides.

The one that is telling me I’m in deeper than I realized.

And that I’m going to have to drag Sawyer in further too.

“Anton, gonna do a little dance or something?” Willa asks, stopping just inside the double door, parking her hands on her hips. “Y’all are looking at him like he’s going to bust out in the Hokey Pokey at any moment.”

“Or something…” Hux replies, smirking.

“What’d we miss?” Milo asks. “Oh, fried green tomatoes…”

I roll my eyes, secretly thankful he’s so easily distracted by the food. If any of them is going to be able to see through me, it’s Milo. He has an uncanny knack for it.

“Nothing,” I tell him. I turn back to the group, looking at each one of them before speaking. “I’m only going to say this once, so listen good. What’s between Sawyer and me is none of y’all’s business. Got it? ”

“Shoulda thought about that before you had opinions about everyone else’s relationships, Son,” Auggie chides, breezing in.

He passes by the buffet table like it’s not even there, making his way straight to the head of the table, sitting down, looking all business.

“Now, big news, I just got an email from Ernie?—”

The collective groan from all seven of us drowns out my father, the sheer mention of our tax guy’s name like an arrow to the eye.

No, scratch that, a dull spoon to the eye.

Ernie is a nice guy, and about as dedicated and passionate of an employee as you can get, but his passion is taxes.

Which does not make him the most interesting man in the world.

In fact, I’ve had burnt toast that is less dry.

I sit back in my chair, slyly pulling my phone from my pocket so that neither my siblings nor Auggie can see that I’m no longer listening.

I’m far enough down the long table that I’m mostly hidden from my father, but given the mood all my brothers seem to be in, I wouldn’t doubt that any one of them would rat me out in a heartbeat.

Pulling up my texts, I open a new one, selecting a name I never thought I’d use.

So…looks like we’re actually “dating” now…

Sawyer

Who is this?

Your “boyfriend” ;)

Who?

Anton

How did you get this number?

I silently chuckle, fighting the urge to shake my head. Her voice is clear in my head, the outrage dripping from every word as she angrily taps it out with her thumbs. Makes me wish I were there to see it.

You left it on a sticky note in the lab

Oh

Yup

So, I need to adjust our deal

Excuse you?

My brothers think we’re dating. So, play along?

I hold my breath, my heart rate picking up as I wait for a response. All I get is silence. Or whatever you call the stillness that comes with a lack of text response. Dead air? There aren’t even the dancing dots at the bottom of my screen to let me know that she’s typing. Nothing.

My stomach churns, the fried green tomatoes threatening to turn on me as I wait. This might be it. The moment where I went too far. I always knew it would come. Would have bet money that it was with one of my brothers rather than a woman I barely know, but here we are.

Leaving me feeling even more like shit.

Apparently I care what Sawyer thinks a lot more than I realized.

My phone goes dark, the screen saver photo of Cary’s old dog, Riley, holding a perfect Hayes peach in her mouth taking over.

Fuck. Usually, this old photo is more than enough to get me to smile.

Not today though. Instead, my insides feel like that peach looked about ten seconds after we took that photo, crushed and mushy thanks to Riley clamping down on it.

The worst part of this is, I know this feeling isn’t because I’m going to lose a bet. Yes, that part is going to suck. My brothers will make sure I do some stupid shit and I’ll never hear the end of it, but I can live with that. Sawyer wanting nothing to do with me? That’s harder to swallow.

For reasons I don’t understand, the prospect of having to “date” her—fake or otherwise—sounded like fun.

The soft buzz of my phone in my hand almost doesn’t register until I look down and see the little notification on the screen.

Sawyer

Better be one hell of a recommendation

Fuck yes…

There’s no hiding my smile as I unlock my phone and start tapping out my response.

“Something you want to share with the rest of us?” Gus asks, his annoyance loud and clear.

“Nope,” I reply, popping the p , not bothering to look up. Then I think better of it. I pause, twisting just enough to look him directly in the eye. “Only that I know the difference between a three and an eight.”

If looks could kill, I’d be dead where I sit.

That taunt will never get old though, even if fate did take matters into its own hands and help Gus out by bringing Margeaux to Hickory Hills after he’d smudged her number, resulting in him not calling her for more than a year.

Hell, even Margeaux makes fun of him for it.

“I hope she knocks you on your ass,” Gus declares.

“Fuck around and find out, kid,” Milo mutters.

I tune them out, my focus back on my phone, where it belongs.

Tomorrow night, pick you up at 6?

Can’t I just meet you somewhere? Or we go from work?

Nope

It’s a date. I’m picking you up

Fine

Great

and Sawyer?

Yeah?

I can’t wait ;)