Torque

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Torque Page 7

by Gillian Archer


  “But back to you. What’s got you all chipper and fucking annoying?” Ryan groaned, rubbing his eyes like he was exhausted. “You’re usually the one barking at us for being annoying before noon.”

  I lifted a shoulder. “Just got enough sleep, I guess. What’s up with you? Why is the perkiest brother the crankiest brother this morning?”

  “Fliss is teething again. She’s miserable so we’re all miserable.” Ryan growled, sounding like a wounded bear.

  Austin and I exchanged glances. Ryan was gonna be fun to film with today. Maybe we could squeeze a nap in for him before the crew showed up in an hour.

  “Is Dylan in yet?” I asked. “I got a text from our lawyer, Evan, that he’s going to call at eight. It’d be nice if we were all in the room.”

  Austin shook his head. “I haven’t seen him.”

  “Me neither.” Ryan stood up with a groan. “I’ll go see if he’s in the paint shed.”

  I shoved him back down with a light tap. “Get some coffee and wake the fuck up. I’ll go see if the kid is here yet. We’ll meet in the conference room in twenty for Evan’s call.”

  “Yup.” Austin whistled as he walked across the shop floor toward his office.

  Ryan groaned something, buried his face in his arms, and slumped against his bench.

  I headed out the back door but stopped about halfway across the lot when Dylan roared up on his bike.

  He killed the engine and took his sweet time removing his helmet. Like I’d get annoyed at having to wait and leave. You’d think after twenty-seven years my brother would know me better than that. If anything, it just pissed me off more.

  Or maybe that was what he was going for.

  “What’s going on?” Dylan asked after he finally got his helmet off and swung off his bike.

  “We’ve got a meeting in the conference room at eight to talk to our lawyer. Did anyone fill you in about the meeting you skipped out on Friday?”

  “Nope.” His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out to read the message.

  “Nope to the conference call or nope to the filling in?” I blinked at my baby brother as my cheerful mood went into a tailspin. “What the hell is going on with you? You miss an important production meeting and skip family dinner with Aunt Wendy—who is fucking worried about you by the way. You might want to pick up the phone and tell her you’re alive.”

  “Noted. See you at eight.” Dylan didn’t look up from his phone and headed toward the paint shed.

  What the hell was going on with him? I swear to god, it felt like my brother had turned into a stranger. It’d all gone to shit when the bastard sperm donor got paroled. It was still hard to look at Dylan and know that he’d chosen that asshole over his family. He’d murdered our mom and Dylan had wanted to give him another chance. Dylan had been a baby when the asshole had killed her, but it was still hard to get past it. At least for me.

  And the sperm donor had gone and burned down Aunt Wendy’s restaurant—with Sabrina inside—and tried to burn down our shop too. All over some crazy vendetta about the civil case against him over twenty-five years ago.

  Because that was who the asshole was. He hadn’t changed. He wasn’t rehabilitated.

  I hoped he rotted in prison this time around.

  And Dylan should be on his knees apologizing to the family, begging for our forgiveness.

  I hadn’t heard the punk say sorry even once.

  I stomped back inside—my earlier lightness long forgotten.

  My aggravation didn’t lessen when we huddled around the conference call twenty minutes later.

  “There’s nothing you can do about it, unless you want to execute your right to terminate the show.” Evan Stanton’s voice blared from the speaker phone in the middle of the conference table. “And even that’s not an easy choice to make. Ending the show comes with a huge cancellation fee. I’m afraid they got you by the short hairs, gentlemen.”

  I huffed in annoyance. What was the point in having a lawyer when he couldn’t find a loophole for you? “That’s bullshit. They get to weigh in on personnel decisions? And there’s seriously nothing we can do?”

  Evan sighed. “Remember that clause I told you guys we needed to tighten up? The one about the network having final approval over the product? I hate to tell you I told you so, but…”

  I narrowed my eyes at Austin. He’d been so adamant at the time that we shouldn’t make waves. Just sign the contract they put in front of us. It’d taken a lot of lecturing to get them to even agree to hiring an attorney. A lot of good it’d done us. We hadn’t done anything Evan had recommended.

  “Thanks, Evan. We’ll let you know if we need anything.” Austin tapped the end call button. “I still say it’s not that big of a deal. So we hire a receptionist. What’s the problem?”

  “The problem is that this is a family business. They’re supposed to be doing a fly on the wall kinda reality show. Not telling us where to stand and what to say. I’m not a fucking actor. This isn’t what I signed up for.”

  “Overreact much?” Dylan laughed from his chair on the other side of the room. “I think some fresh blood around here would be nice. I’m sick of staring at your ugly mugs all day.”

  “You’d have to show up to work for that to be true.” I retorted. “And I take that to mean you’re fine with flirting and maybe even hooking up with the new hire?”

  “What the fuck?” Dylan reared back with a disgusted curl to his lip.

  “That’s the kinda shit you miss out on when you disappear for fucking days at a time.” I sneered. “Now you understand what’s at stake here?”

  “You’re exaggerating, Nate.” Ryan shook his head even as a tired expression stole over his features. “You guys don’t have the sleep with the girl.”

  “Did James say, or did he not say that it’d be good for the show if we flirted with the new hire? That we needed something to add some spice to our boring-as-fuck show.”

  Ryan tilted his head in acknowledgement.

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “James made a point to name me and Dylan as the only two who could hook up with the new hire since you two are all but married. I’m sure as hell not down with that.”

  “Well it’s not like you’re dating someone.” Austin snorted.

  Because that was the point. Fuck me. Still Austin’s little snort bugged the shit out of me. Like I was someone incapable of commitment. Like I was some kinda irresponsible fuckboy.

  “I’m not a whore, and fuck them and you for trying to turn me into one.” I pushed away from the conference table, my chair crashing to the floor behind me. “This is bullshit.”

  “Whoa.” Ryan stood up with his palms out in a placating gesture. “I think we all need to calm down for a second here. Maybe count to ten before we say something we can’t take back.”

  “Because that’s the answer to all this fucking bullshit? Tricks you learned in anger management? That’s the reason we’re in this shit in the first place. You guys have changed so much now the network is bored. We’re not the same brothers anymore. You guys have lost your bite.”

  Ryan shrugged. “I’m not gonna apologize for not being an angry bastard all the time.”

  “You might wanna try it.” Austin smirked at me. “Maybe you’d actually be able to hold onto a woman for more than a night that way.”

  “Fuck you.” I bolted across the room with my fists raised.

  “Whoa!” Dylan hopped between us, trying and failing to push me back.

  I got an awkward punch in, clipping Austin on the jaw over Dylan’s shoulder and getting a bit of Dylan’s ear in the process.

  “Knock it off, asshole.” Ryan waded in, pushing Austin and Dylan out of the way. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  “ME? Seriously? He fucking started it calling me a fuckboy and wanting to whore me out. What the fuck is wrong with you, Aus? You made it sound like I fucking beat women. Really? After what we went through growing up with him? That’s fucked.”<
br />
  Austin’s eyes darkened as he frowned over Ryan’s shoulder. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  The door to the conference room crashed open. Two cameramen and James shoved inside. Suddenly there was a camera inches from my face, and a beaming James surveyed the damage from the door.

  I ignored them all.

  “Fuck you.” I jabbed a finger at Austin. “You know shit like that is a fucking trigger. You’re an asshole for saying it.”

  “Agreed.” Ryan shoved Austin back a step. “That was over the line, Austin.”

  We all simmered in heavy silence, glaring at each other.

  James cleared his throat from the doorway. “Not to kill the mood or anything, but what exactly is the argument over? Would you guys mind going back and reenacting it for us?”

  I raised my eyebrows at my brothers. “That didn’t take long, did it?”

  They all studied their feet like they held the answers to the universe.

  “Fuck, no. We’re not reenacting shit.” I turned to James and tilted my chin. “You got some resumes for us to look over? I think we all agreed on hiring that receptionist after all.”

  James gaped at me. “But—”

  “We’re not actors, James. We’re mechanics with anger management issues.” I crossed my arms over my chest and raised my eyebrows at him. “Apparently we need a receptionist, so we’ll look at whoever you want us to.”

  “But the final decision on who to hire still lies with us.” Austin interjected as he crossed the room to stand at my side. “Nowhere in our contract does it say shit about you guys hiring our staff. So we’ll pick who we want to work at the front desk for us.”

  “We do need someone to answer the phones.” Ryan moved to stand on my other side. He rested his hand on my shoulder, telling me without words that he supported me. “I know I’m sick of listening to all the fangirl messages we get about Nathan’s awesome bod. There are some things you should never hear someone say about your brother.”

  James glowered from the doorway. “Seriously? You guys come to literal blows, and no one’s gonna tell me what the fuck is going on? Austin? Dylan?”

  My brothers just raised their eyebrows and said nothing.

  “This is bullshit!” James roared as he whirled around and stomped down the hall.

  But the cameras stayed zeroed in on us.

  “So is that a no to the resumes?” I shouted at his retreating back. I waited a beat, turned to Ryan, and shrugged. “Maybe he’ll get back to us?”

  Ryan snorted. “Doubtful.”

  I grunted in agreement then weaved through the camera crews and made for the door.

  “Nate?” Austin called from behind me.

  I stopped but didn’t turn around. “I don’t want to talk about it right now. I don’t want to say shit I can’t take back.”

  “’Kay. Lemme know when you’ve cooled down.”

  Right. Because that was my priority right now.

  I didn’t say anything else as I left.

  I let the door slamming behind me do the talking for me.

  Chapter Nine

  Maddie

  I think I floated the entire day. Nothing could kill my happy mood. Not Elaine’s little barbs about budget cuts, not the fact that my landlord had refused to sign for my registered letter, and certainly not the slew of new dick pics that popped up in my messages.

  Although maybe it was time to delete my profile.

  Almost on cue, my phone pinged in my purse with, no doubt, another new dick pic.

  Wait, no. That was a text.

  Nathan: I booked us a table at the Firehouse. How about dinner and a walk along the river after?

  Oh my swoon. I didn’t know who this new Nathan was, but I swear to god it felt like he had a playbook to all my secret fantasies.

  Just the thought made me pause, poised to unlock my car after work.

  Did he know all my secret fantasies? Had one of my friends blabbed to him what my ideal night out with him would be? I really didn’t want to think about the embarrassing things Sabrina or Hope could’ve told him.

  No, I was being ridiculous. One, my friends wouldn’t do that to me. And two, I’d told Nathan I didn’t want them to know about whatever this was yet.

  Still, I felt a little bit exposed, like Nathan knew more about me than I wanted him to at this point. As I unlocked my car, I debated my reply options. I needed to send him something light and flirty that wouldn’t convey how much I already loved him. Maybe love was the wrong word—infatuated?

  I wanted to sound…not crazy.

  Ugh, I was being ridiculous. It was a text. And he had already asked me out. Why was I so worked up about saying and doing the right thing? Wasn’t the whole point of my new plan to finally get control of my life and stop letting the world rule me? If Nathan didn’t like the real me, what was the point of even being with him?

  I tapped out a quick reply before I could talk myself into sounding cooler or aloof.

  Me: Sounds like a perfect date! What time?

  Nathan: Shit. Sorry. Dinner at 7 so I’ll pick you up at 6.30?

  That could be awkward. Especially since I didn’t want Dylan to know about us. Dylan—like his brothers—could be overprotective when it came to me and guys. I shuddered to think what he’d say when he found out about me and Nathan.

  Me: How about I pick you up at 6.30? That way we don’t have any awkward run ins with Dyl?

  Nathan: Great. I don’t want to spend any more time with the asshole anyways.

  Whoa. There was a lot to unpack there. Sounded like the guys were back to trading barbs, if not fists. I guess I’d find out when I got “home”, or when I talked to Nathan over dinner.

  Because I was going to dinner with Nathan Burns. Squee!

  Me: See you at 6.30

  I stuffed my phone in my purse and put my car into gear. I only had a little over an hour to get myself date night ready with no reinforcements to call in. And all from a suitcase stashed at someone else’s house. This was gonna be tough.

  But fortunately, when I arrived “home”, I had the place to myself. I didn’t have to answer any awkward questions from Dylan about where I was going all dressed up. Unfortunately, all my date night worthy clothes were a wrinkled mess. I tossed a few options into the dryer on low with a damp rag and got to work on my makeup. After a little eyeliner, mascara, and gloss, I went to work on my hair. Keep it simple. I wanted to look like me. So I flat ironed a few little stray baby hairs and called it good.

  I didn’t let myself examine my appearance in the mirror once I was done. Now was not the time for self-doubt. Pulling my now wrinkle-free options out of the dryer, I quickly chose a flirty black skirt and flowy, off-the-shoulder pleasant blouse in emerald. My favorite strappy black shoes with a low heel finished the look.

  I wanted to see myself in a full-length mirror, but apparently Dylan didn’t have one. It was probably for the best, because given half the chance, I’d pick apart every choice I’d made until I was a trembly mess, unable to leave the condo. Instead, I transferred some stuff into a little black purse and locked Dylan’s door behind me.

  It took all of two seconds to walk next door to Nathan’s condo. I was an anxious mess. Taking a deep breath, I clutched my stomach and tried to calm my racing heart. It was going to be fine. I’d charm him with my sparkling eyes and amazing cleavage my pushup bra gave me. I could do this. I wanted to do this. I’d waited almost my entire life to do this.

  Oh god. Oh god.

  Nope.

  Calm. Cool. Flirty but not desperate.

  Easy peasy.

  I lifted a hand to knock when the door opened.

  Nathan stood in front of me with a smug little smile. “Were you ever going to knock on the door?”

  “I, uh…” I closed my eyes with a wince. Of course he had one of those obnoxious doorbell cameras. How could I have forgotten? “You watched me?”

  “Just the last minute or so.” That smug little smile of his
deepened into a genuine smile. “You look gorgeous, Maddie.” Nathan’s eyes did a survey of my body.

  I burned like hell when his eyes lingered on my cleavage. It’d taken a lot of courage to stuff myself into the pushup bra, but suddenly I was glad for every inch of pinched skin currently on display.

  “Thanks. You clean up pretty good, too.” I smiled as I mimicked his long perusal. Nathan was yummy per usu. Only tonight, he’d gone for a classier version of slacks and buttoned up shirt with an opened collar. The fact that his neck and knuckle tattoos were still visible made it all the yummier.

  I still couldn’t believe this was happening.

  “Thanks.” Nathan smirked like he knew exactly what I was thinking. “You ready to go?”

  I nodded silently. I couldn’t talk for the pounding of my heart.

  Nathan tapped the security panel inside and closed and locked the door. He reached out and grabbed my hand, holding it in his as he tugged me toward his SUV.

  My heart fluttered at the casual contact. Like we’d done this a thousand times before. We had—in my dreams—but now that it was happening in real life, I was having a hard time breathing.

  Nathan stopped next to his SUV and opened my door for me. He held my hand as I clambered inside, giving it a little squeeze before he let go and shut the door.

  I bit my lip to suppress the squeal of excitement that I was dying to let loose.

  Instead, I tried to play it cool and avoided his eyes as he climbed inside. I busied myself buckling my seatbelt. Nathan did the same on his side. He smoothly started the engine and slid his arm across the back of my seat as he turned to look behind us before he backed out. His hand ran over my exposed skin and cupped my right shoulder.

 

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