Page 11 of The Grump I Loathe (The Lockhart Brothers #3)

CONNOR

“ S ix down,” Mom said, lowering her crossword to the table to grab a sip of coffee. “Fable?”

“Oh, good call. I was thinking ‘story,’ but ‘fable’ makes more sense with eight across.” I filled the letters in on my own copy of the crossword.

Mom smiled softly at me. Behind her, the April sun spilled in through the large windows, turning her strawberry blonde hair gold in places and adding shine to the few strands of silver. “Fourteen across?” I said. “Sailor?”

Mom nodded, filling it in.

Doing the crossword together was a tradition for us since I was a kid.

On Mom’s good days, we’d sit and laugh and fill the paper in together.

On her bad days…well, puzzles were the last thing I worried about on her bad days.

But it had been a long time since I’d seen her like that. Things were good now—really good.

“Grace will sleep all morning if you let her,” Mom reminded me. Yet another reason to be glad Mom was in such a strong place these days— it meant she’d been a safe harbor for Grace when the divorce got complicated. She knew my daughter’s routines nearly as well as I did.

I checked my watch. “A few more minutes won’t hurt.”

Mom hummed softly. “You won’t be saying that when she’s in bed until noon. She’s quickly hurtling toward teenagedom.”

I pretended to shiver. “Don’t remind me. Double digits are already on the horizon.”

Mom chuckled, playing with the pendant at her neck.

It was a new piece of jewelry given to her by her boyfriend, X, and I hid a grimace at the sight of it.

Sure, he was a world-famous director with a shit-ton of awards, but that didn’t mean I trusted him with my mom.

She needed commitment and support I just wasn’t sure he could provide.

My brothers thought the two of them were good together, but after the recent mess of them surprising everyone with their relationship, then breaking up after that audio fiasco during the filming of Every Day Is Sunday , then getting back together, he had quite a ways to go before he proved himself to me.

Just the sight of him walking into the sunroom with his own cup of coffee and a sudoku puzzle set my teeth on edge.

“Morning, morning. Beautiful day!” He walked around the table dressed in a loose magenta tracksuit that Grace had once called slay . I didn’t understand the appeal, but Grace had quickly grown obsessed with X and his sneaker collection. I chose to believe she’d mature into better taste soon.

“Morning,” Mom said, beaming up at him. He leaned over and pecked her on the lips.

“When are you headed back to LA?” I asked casually. Mom and X split their time between LA and San Francisco, dating long distance when X had work .

“Probably in the next few days,” X admitted, reaching out and squeezing Mom’s hand.

“He’s in talks to direct a period piece set in Mussolini’s Italy,” Mom gushed, the history nerd in her jumping out.

“Not confirmed yet,” X said. “But it’s looking promising.”

“That’s great.” I crossed my fingers under the table that the movie would film on location.

I could get behind the idea of six weeks of no X in our lives.

His relationship with Mom was too volatile for my taste.

She could use a break to recenter herself.

I wanted her to be happy; I just didn’t want her to lose all the progress she’d made because of a man.

“A summer in Italy,” Mom sighed. “Doesn’t that sound romantic?”

“Seventeen across?” I asked, looking up when she didn’t answer, only to find her with her head pressed to X’s shoulder, watching him complete his sudoku with rapt interest.

Coffee was the only thought in my head as I stepped out of my office. Coffee. Coffee. Immediate coffee. All the coffee. An IV drip of coffee.

It was just one of those days when nothing could go right, and I needed to get a caffeine boost stat, or I might start throwing things out windows.

As I made my way across the floor to secure the largest cup I could find, an explosion of laughter echoed from one of the cubicles.

I craned my neck, eyes narrowing. Of course it was Eddie’s cubicle.

I veered in that direction, annoyed to find half the team crowded inside.

More laughter drifted from the group, and I cracked my knuckles ready to tell her to stop monopolizing everyone’s time with her antics .

She and Noah had managed to meet the deadline for the opening sequence rewrite last week, but that didn’t give her free rein to have everyone goofing off in the middle of the day. I drew closer, intent on sending them all back to work.

“And then bam!” Eddie cried. “The escape pod hits the side of the ship. And bam again! Juni falls through the ceiling. Flux is pissed. And Juni’s all like ‘nothing to see here.’”

Wait …I frowned. She was talking about work?

Eddie’s hands shot into the air, explaining with her usual dramatics, and the team was lapping it up, big smiles on their faces. My thoughts drifted to Ali. She was passionate about gaming, and her enthusiasm could be contagious, but people had never looked at her like that .

“At the same time,” Eddie continued, “Flux realizes it’s a distraction, and we set the escape plan in motion. Let’s infuse some comedy into this sequence because the next sequence is going to be an emotional gut punch.”

A strange twist flitted through my chest as I watched Eddie.

I couldn’t help but be impressed with her for the way she drew people in and crafted the story, using her whole body to bring the world to life.

The way she moved when she talked—hands gesturing, hips swaying slightly as she turned—had me transfixed like a damn idiot.

When she leaned over the desk to point at something, I had to make a very conscious effort to keep my eyes on her face and focus on her words.

I had to admit she was good at her job. I just wished she’d channel all that into more productive means of working. I let my gaze linger for a second longer—a second too long—before wrenching my eyes away. Coffee ! That’s what I wanted.

“Hey, boss!” Eddie called before I managed to slip away. “Where’re you running off to? The party’s right here. You can sit if you like.” She pretended to dust off a spot on her desk. “Unless you’re worried you might actually enjoy yourself so much that you crack your scowl.”

I gave her a flat glare. Why did everything have to be a production with her? I stalked forward and smiles around her faded, several people making the wise decision to edge back to their cubicles.

That strange tightness in my chest returned as Eddie crossed her arms, staring up at me with pursed lips. There was something so challenging about the look. Something that made me want to reach out, drag her into my arms and?—

“Before everyone heads out for lunch, make sure you log off and lock your computers,” I said, defaulting to boss mode. “I hope you haven’t already forgotten about the training we did on digital security.”

A few guilty faces peeled away. My gaze returned to Eddie. “Why did the entire floor need an explanation of a scene only a handful will have a role in implementing?”

Eddie opened her mouth to answer, but I cut her off. “That answer belongs behind closed doors, Edith .”

The rest of the lingering team got the hint and scattered like rodents fleeing at the first sign of trouble and leaving the two of us alone. With everyone gone, I got a good look at the walls of her cubicle, which had been covered in brightly colored art and drawings and sticky notes.

“Admiring my wall of inspiration?” she asked.

My eyebrow arched. “Is that what you call it?” To me, it looked like eye-searing chaos. How could she concentrate on anything when her desk was so loud ?

“I had to put something up, or I would’ve died of boredom in this concrete tower. ”

“Concrete tower?” I gestured across the floor. “There’s literally a luxury lounge area and gourmet snacks in the kitchenette.”

“Yes, where everything is also gray or black.”

“What does that matter?” I knew I didn’t have a great sense for interior design. Grace had helped decorate the house we’d bought after the divorce, and I was happy with whatever made her happy—even if it included more pink than I might have thought was necessary.

But at work, it was more important for things to be functional. I always had the easiest time working in an unfussy, uncluttered space with neutral colors. Wasn’t that the same for everyone? “This is your workplace, not your living room.”

“It obviously does matter what things look like,” Eddie argued, “or all games would still look like Pong .”

“The advancement of graphic design and the walls of your cubicle aren’t the same thing.”

“And yet they both spark joy,” Eddie pointed out.

“This conversation is not sparking joy,” I growled. On the wall I spotted a picture of a rat holding a piece of cheese. Underneath, it said, Have a gouda day! “What is that?”

Eddie gave me a wicked grin. “Mr. Cheesers. The team mascot.”

Mr. Cheesers ? Christ. I rubbed at the tension headache building behind my eyes.

“You good, boss?” Eddie asked. “Not having an aneurysm, are you?”

“Just trying to figure out how I always end up sucked into your dimension of nonsense.”

She smirked. “Maybe you like it.”

“I definitely do not .” I might .

“I don’t know,” Eddie teased, “you clearly keep coming back for more.”

“Stop it.” I squeezed the bridge of my nose.

“Stop what?”

“Distracting me. Distracting everyone. This isn’t playtime. You all are here to do your jobs.”

Eddie dropped her hands to her hips, nostrils flaring. “I wasn’t distracting anyone. Did you not hear that we were working on the game?”

“Your entire,” I gestured to her, “performance could have been handled in an email.”

She huffed, blowing her bangs out of her eyes. “Look, coming in midway through the development process is difficult on a team. Creating a unified design ethos isn’t easy, but it’s the only way the game will feel cohesive and make sense.”

Unified design ethos? When she dropped vocabulary like that, it was hard to believe this was the same woman who’d fired a bottle of hot sauce at me. She was sharp, even if she did insist on turning everything into a production.

“ That’s why I’m engaging with everyone all together, in person.

Because we need to create a unified environment so that every aspect of the game is aligned, not just the narrative.

The original game was perfectly balanced, and I imagine that had a lot to do with how much control Ali had from the beginning.

We’re not in that situation here, but we can get there.

If everyone feels like part of the team. ”

I released a heavy breath, hating that she made sense. “I understand your intention, but your methods are too messy. Write up your design notes and email them out. We need to keep a trail of documentation. Without it, ideas get lost. ”

“What if I record our team discussions and upload them to the shared folder? That way you have your trail.”

“Why not just record yourself and email it out?”

“I think you’re missing the point of togetherness,” Eddie said. “Collaboration. There’s no better way to see how an idea lands than to get real-time reactions.”

I buzzed my lips together. She had a point.

Half of our job was testing real-time reactions to our games.

I just didn’t need a constant spectacle in the middle of the production floor when other people were trying to concentrate.

“Fine, have your meetings, but reserve the big conference room for them, and keep the door closed . That way you’re not distracting the entire floor. ”

She winked at me and stuck her hand out to shake. “Deal.”

Without thinking, I shook her hand and that strange twist exploded across my chest again, tangling around my ribs, interrupting the rhythm of my heart.

I shoved it aside, dropping her hand, and turning to go.

Before I did, I took one more look at her ridiculous business attire that fit a little too well for my liking.

I refused to admit that she might look a little too good in those suits.

“You know your position comes with a wardrobe budget, right? Did you not read the contract?”

She ran her hand down the front of her blouse and scowled. I tried not to stare at the way her hand molded over her curves. “You said business attire,” she complained. “What’s wrong now?”

I cleared my throat. “I just thought you might want attire that’s…more to your taste.”

“Well, I’ll get right on that as soon as you email me the name of your tailor.”

I rolled my eyes. “Back to work, Edith.” I stalked away to the kitchenette, back to desperately needing that coffee. Inside, Max was already making himself a cup.

He leaned against the counter, mug in hand, as I puttered with the machine.

“What?” I asked, feeling his eyes on me.

“Oh, nothing…” He turned to face me. “You’re spending a lot of time with the new girl.”

“You mean Eddie?”

“Yes,” Max said with a smug grin. “That would be the new girl.”

I snorted. “I’m trying to keep her on task. If someone doesn’t keep an eye on her, she gets insane ideas like dragging the team off go-karting.”

“That…was actually a lot of fun,” Max said. “ She’s fun. And attractive. And don’t even try to pretend you haven’t noticed. You wander by her cubicle at least once an hour.”

I huffed at the look on his face. “Don’t be ridiculous. Firstly, she’s an employee. Secondly, she’s fifteen years younger than me.”

Max grinned. “You’ve been thinking about her enough to do the math, huh?”

“Don’t you have augment engines to tweak?” I muttered.

“It’s just nice to see you smiling like that again. I haven’t seen you look like that since before the div?—”

My phone rang. I pulled it out of my pocket, frowning. “It’s Grace’s school,” I said. “Gotta take this.”