Page 2 of The Maxwell Brothers

“Well, I’d offer to help you decide on a candidate, but that’s not my area of expertise,” Tyler said with a lazy smile. “I can, however, help you get that stick out of your ass. You’re looking tense, brother. I don’t think you’ll impress any candidates like that.”

“It’s the other way round. They have to impress me.”

Declan cocked a brow. “Yeah, no. I’m with Tyler on this one. No one’s gonna want to work for you if you scare them away.”

I groaned, pacing the living room some more. “Back off, both of you. I don’t need your advice.”

It’s not like I could tell them all to fuck off in front of Gran. My brothers could be a handful sometimes.

“I disagree. I think it’s exactly what you need. I wonder who Travis, Sam, and Luke would side with. Maybe we should call them and find out,” Tyler continued conversationally.

This time, I chuckled.

We did this a lot, randomly giving opinions on each other’s lives. Things could get out of hand when we were all together. It had always been this way.

Declan and I were Mom’s “generals” only because Luke, the second oldest, had made it his mission to cause mayhem. The funniest fact was that he almost always convinced us to get into trouble—to this day, he still counted talking Sam and Travis into pranking Gran that they had chickenpox by painting red dots on themselves as one of his top ten achievements.

It was probably why Declan became a lawyer. He spent so much time getting us out of hot water that it was an obvious career choice. Sam and Travis, the youngest ones, were like a weird mashup between Declan and Luke. Depending on whatthe situation required, they were the troublemakers or the saviors. It had been fascinating to watch.

“I dare you to call them this early on Saturday,” I said. “They’re gonna bust your ba?—”

I cleared my throat, stopping before I said “balls.”

Gran shook her head. “I’ll pretend I haven’t heard anything. But I think Tate’s got enough on his plate with the three of us offering our opinions. And I don’t think you can get ahold of Sam or Travis.”

That was true. Sam was on the other side of the world working for Doctors Without Borders. Clearly he’d followed his savior instinct. Travis was in the process of selling his hugely successful startup—and he was working nonstop.

Tyler only had so much time on his hands because he was the goalie for the Chicago Blades—the hottest hockey team since they won the Stanley Cup. He had summers off, but otherwise he was always busy.

Gran sighed. "Well, if you ever change your mind and decide I could handle it, I'm up for the job. I love my great-granddaughter and would adore spending more time with her."

I knew she did, but Gran was eighty-two, and no matter what she said, she couldn't keep up with Paisley for more than a weekend.

Checking my watch, I said, "I promised Paisley I would take her out on the boat today. Anyone want to come with us?"

"No, no. I don’t like boats. They make me queasy," Gran said. “I came to have breakfast with you all.”

Saturday was the unofficial get-together day of the Maxwells, but I suspected the news about the nanny also had something to do with these three dropping by unannounced for breakfast.

Declan clapped a hand on my shoulder. "As much as I like spending time with my niece, I've got a lunch date today, and Ihave to leave. I don't want to be late. Gran, want me to drop you off at home?"

"That would be lovely. Thank you, dear.”

“I’m coming with you, Tate. I don’t have anything better to do today,” Tyler said to me. “Maybe I’ll get lucky and end up with a date too.”

I stared at him, narrowing my eyes. “You’re not going to use an outing with my daughter and me to pick up women.”

Tyler smirked. “I can’t useyou, that’s true. But women have a thing for hot uncles. For hot single dads too, I hear—not that it’s working for you.”

“Very funny. Don’t make me take back the invitation,” I warned.

“Paisley asked me earlier, and I said yes, so don’t even try it. You don’t want to disappoint your daughter, now do you?”

“Tyler. Behave,” Gran jumped in.

“Never,” he responded, walking over to Gran kissing her cheek. The man had no shame.

Gran laughed, shaking her head. “You six are responsible for every strand of white hair I have. And that goes for your parents too. I’d always hoped you’d all have boys just as rambunctious as you were to see what you put us through. There’s still time. And then I’ll sit back and chuckle as you try to outmaneuver their shenanigans.”