Jared gives a shaky laugh, taking my teasing tone as a sign that his news hasn’t caused me any hurt. “Sometimes you scare me, Mac.”
I hold my champagne cocktail toward him for a toast. He clinks it with his beer bottle and after we both take a sip, I say, “Sometimes I scare myself.”
MAC
We have too many live commitments to cancel after Frog’s injury. Thankfully Grace has agreed to stay for a full eight weeks. She’s going to cover his place with Jamieson until he’s healed and able to play again.
Three weeks into her stay, I make the time to visit Jamieson & Valentine Consulting. I dress carefully for the occasion. Of course, I’m only lifting a file, but I’m doing it inside an office environment so I feel compelled to look the part. Dressed in a sharp black suit, deep red lipstick, and matching Louboutins that bear a stiletto so sharp it can stab a troublemaker in the heart at fifty paces, I step out of my brother’s vintage Porsche. Jared isn’t working today and because he’s playing nice lately, I’ve taken advantage and asked for the use of his car. I need to buy my own, but the last thing I ever feel like doing during what little down time I have is stroll through car yards trying to find a car that’s the perfect fit for me.
I reach inside the car and collect the box from the passenger seat before carefully locking the borrowed Porsche. After dropping the keys in my Mimco tote bag, I stride along the cement path leading toward the building.
The drilling, clanging, and whizzing sounds of various electrical tools render the air from the construction site across the street. A sharp wolf whistle rings out, cutting clear through the noise and busy street traffic. My nostrils flare. “Pervy assholes,” I mutter beneath my breath, ignoring the insult.
With my hair pulled into a sleek bun at the nape of my neck and my game face on, I stride up the steps and press a palm flat on the entrance door to my brothers’ offices, ready to push it open.
“Hey, Mac Attack!”
I know then that it’s Casey Daniels who wolf-whistled. It’s his special nickname for me. I turn and literally choke on air.
Both Casey and Jake stand on the opposite street corner. They’re waiting at the traffic lights, holding matching takeout coffee cups. They both wear sleek pants and sharp-collared shirts—Casey’s is deep purple and Jake’s a rich navy blue with dark grey pinstripes. The only difference is that Casey wears a tie.
The light turns green and the vision of them walking toward me is a figurative punch to the eyeballs. For a brief second I imagine being in a naked sandwich between the two of them. Stand down, you dirty whore, I order myself, but it’s an effort because Jesus Christ, the thought of them naked and all for me is enough to make me weep.
Grace is one lucky bitch but when my eyes cut to Jake, I know that I’m luckier. His collar is open and shirtsleeves rolled up exposing tanned, tattooed forearms and thick veins. Today he’s clean-shaven and the short buzzed hair has grown a fraction. He’s forgotten about his weekly cut. The ends are a rich sun-kissed gold and silky to the touch. His stride isn’t smooth like Casey’s. It’s powerful, giving him a dangerous edge. He’s the epitome of the Big Bad Wolf when he chooses to let it out, and there’s nothing sexier than when he lets it out with me.
When my haze of lust lowers a notch, it hits me that Jake is here when I’m about to instigate my plan. Hell. Just weeks ago I was telling Quinn she needed to rein in her man, and I can’t even keep track of my own.
I’m slipping. But it’s not really like he’s my man, is he? Or is he? I don’t know what we are anymore. It changes day to day.
“Princess,” Jake mutters when they reach me. Touching a hand to my side, he leans in and kisses my cheek. “You look dressed to kill.”
“Funny you should mention that. I happen to have a list handy of people who need to die today.”
I don’t but it sounds good, and it’s advantageous to keep people on their toes, regardless of whether they’re friend or foe.
Casey grins and gives my cheek a quick peck too. “I hope I’m not on it,” he quips.
“Neither of you are on it,” I tell them. “But that could change at a moment’s notice, so watch your backs.”
Jake’s eyes crinkle. “You think you could take us?” he asks, putting an arm around my shoulders and drawing me closer.
My girl parts tingle. I have to school the amusement because I know he means his comment in a completely different context to the one in my head. Still, I answer honestly. “I know I can.”
Casey nods, mockingly impressed as he takes a sip of coffee. “Then we’ll be sure to watch our backs.”
My expression turns scathing. “Don’t patronise me, hotdog.” The nickname had been bestowed on Casey by Evie because of his hotdogging moves on a surfboard. I like it and use it liberally. Casey is a cocky bastard. The nickname knocks him down a peg or two. My eyes shift to the disposable cup in his hand. “Having trouble controlling your office boy? Times must be tough when you have to get your own coffee rather than send Tim out to get it for you.”
It’s common knowledge that Tim has an ongoing dispute with the barista across the road. Because of it, Tim refuses to tip his services. So now every time he orders a coffee, the barista makes it weaker than piss. Casey seems to be the one suffering the consequences what with Tim delivering him the bought coffee each morning. By the looks of it, Tim has no plans on ending the feud anytime soon.
“Tim’s not in today,” Casey tells me as the three of us walk up the steps to the office.
“He’s not in?” Good. That will make lifting a minor little file that much easier to do.
“Nope,” he says, holding the door open to let Jake and me through. “It’s his birthday.”
“I know. That’s why I’m here. But I didn’t realise he was having the day off.”
Tim’s birthday is the ruse I’m using to explain my appearance in the office. I glance sideways at Jake as the three of us walk around the sleek wood-grain reception desk and toward Casey’s office. “So what are you doing here?”
Jake and Casey share a mutual look as we step inside the spacious corner room where he works. “You didn’t tell her?”
“Tell me what?”
“No I didn’t tell her,” Jake says to Casey. “I was waiting until after our meeting with the bank.”
“The bank?” I echo.
Jake turns to face me. “Casey and I are investing in a car restoration business.”
My brow furrows. “Why are you investing in a restoration business? There can’t be any value in that. They’re just cars. They depreciate,” I point out helpfully.
Casey gives me a withering look as he sits down in the seat behind his desk. “They aren’t just cars.”