by Parker, Ali
“Do you live in Philly?” I asked.
He nodded. “Yes. Mostly. I travel a lot, but I have a house here. You?”
I raised an eyebrow. It was kind of a silly question, considering he’d just picked me up at my work. “Yes. Chestnut Hill. I have a small apartment.”
“I assume Patrick lives here as well.”
I nodded. “He does. What have you been up to? Last I heard, you were going off to college at Penn State.”
He smiled. “I’ve been working. A lot.”
“What did you go to school for? I remember you were undecided back then.”
That sexy smile was going to be my undoing. “I decided to double major.”
I laughed. “Of course, you did. You were always a go-getter, making us average people look bad.”
“You are not average,” he quickly said.
“Thanks. So, what did you major in?”
“Archeological Science and Business Administration,” he answered.
“Wow. Those seem to be on very opposite ends of the spectrum.”
He chuckled. “I suppose they are, but it has worked well for me.”
“Are you an archeologist?” I questioned.
He shook his head. “No. I own a few museums.”
I cocked my head to the side. “You own museums? Aren’t museums generally publicly funded?”
He shrugged one of his beefy shoulders. The movement lifted the sleeve on his right arm just a touch, giving me a glimpse of a tattoo on his other arm as well. Tyson. Tattooed. That was different. And hot. “There are quite a few that are public. Mine are for profit.”
He didn’t sound ashamed of the fact at all. “What kind of museums?” I asked with genuine curiosity. “I mean, what do you display?”
“I have a few different ones that specialize in different cultures. Egyptian, European, and I even have one down south that focuses on early America.”
I was impressed. “Wow. If you are not publicly funded, where do you get all your stuff?”
“I buy it.”
I knew what we paid for the things we bought and sold. “Wow. Do you buy your displays out of your own pocket?”
He nodded. “Most of the time. I do have some items that are on loan and some things that people own and want to show off. They get a little placard with their name on it and they get the attention they are looking for.”
“That is crazy. I never realized there was such a thing. How did you get into that?”
He smiled before taking a sip of his latte. “You know I have always loved history. Do you think it was by chance I befriended Patrick?”
We both laughed. “Because of my parents’ business?”
“Yes, although I’m kidding. I didn’t know what they did when Patrick and I first started hanging out. I have always loved history. It fascinates me. I love to see tangible evidence of ancient civilizations. I take the objects I get my hands on and find some story to pair with them. It makes it all more real.”
He was passionate about what he did. His eyes lit up and he had a tenseness in his shoulders that revealed just how excited he was about the subject. “Where do you get the stories?” I asked.
He shrugged. “We scour the history books and talk to locals. There are plenty of cultures where history and tradition are kept alive. They repeat the same stories over and over. Sadly, America isn’t really like that, we’ve found. It is so much harder to get a juicy story.”
“Because we’re new,” I said with a laugh. “We were just born.”
“Our culture, yes. I wish I could talk to the people that lived here before us.”
I smiled, just fascinated by the man. He was this big, burly guy with tattoos, and yet, he was an academic under it all. He was beauty and brains. I picked up my cup and very casually looked at his left hand, checking for a ring. I didn’t see one, nor did I see a tan line. The man had a very deep tan. If there had been a ring at any time, there would have been a mark.
“Interesting,” I commented when I realized I had been staring a little too long.
“What about you?” he asked, turning that blue gaze on me.
I gulped the warm liquid. “I went to NYU.”
He smiled. “You always said you were going to. What did you finally settle on? If I remember, you were between interior design, nursing, or something in fashion.”
I laughed, thinking back to my teen years. “None of those. I have a degree in public relations.”
“You are the one who talks to the public and tells a company what they should and shouldn’t do.”
I nodded. “Basically.”
“Where do you work?”
“For Patrick. The company.”
His eyes widened. “Oh. I didn’t realize.”
“Family business,” I said with a shy smile.
There was some more very generic small talk, keeping everything right at the surface. Neither of us seemed all that interested to delve into anything too personal. There were a million things I wanted to ask him but didn’t dare. For all intents and purposes, he was a stranger. I wouldn’t ask a complete stranger if he was single.
“I should probably let you go,” he said. “I’m sure you are busy.”
I wanted to tell him I had nothing more important than talking to him, but that would appear needy. “I am,” I lied. “I’ve got a meeting.”
“I would like to see Patrick,” he said. “I’ll come by again.”
“I’ll be there,” I blurted out before I had a chance to think about it. “I mean, I’m sure I’ll be there. I work there.”
He nodded, that sexy smile on his face. He got up and I followed him out before realizing he didn’t necessarily say he was giving me a ride back to the office. I didn’t want to be presumptuous. I started to walk away when he reached out and grabbed my hand. An electric shock raced down my spine. I turned to look at him, our eyes locking, and for one brief second, the world stood still.
“I’ll take you back,” he said before dropping my hand like he had been burned.
“Oh, uh, thanks,” I murmured.
I was still recovering from the touch. I climbed into the car and tried to act cool. I was sure I was failing miserably. When the car pulled to a stop in front of the office, I damn near bailed out.
“I’ll be back,” he called.
I watched the car pull away. It was only after he was gone that I stopped to think about the very unexpected visit. Obviously, he had something he wanted to talk to Patrick about and wasn’t comfortable telling me. I should have pressed him.
I should have asked him why he had appeared in our lives after all these years.
Chapter 6
Tyson
It had taken me the entire day to recover from my encounter with Mae yesterday. Seeing her had left me shaken.
She was so much prettier than I remembered. She was gorgeous. Those eyes? My god, those green eyes were just stunning. She had filled out. A womanly figure with round breasts and a gentle flare at the hips.
Her hair was a little longer than it had been back in high school. It looked silky and soft and perfectly touchable. She used to wear it back all the time. I remembered waiting for that moment at the end of the day when she would take it down and let it hang loose around her shoulders.
Her smile was just as I remembered. She could light up a room or a man’s soul with that smile that reached her eyes, crinkling them at the corners. There was a softness about her that drew me in. She had a gentle nature, but I knew when poked, she could be very outspoken and a little scary. Thinking about those moments made me smile. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed her until I saw her again.
I wondered if it would be the same with Patrick. We had been very close in high school. He’d been more like a brother. It was then it dawned on me. He had been my last real friend.
It was hard for me to open up to anyone. I didn’t like to be vulnerable. I doubted many people did, but I especially hated it. I liked control. I liked knowi
ng what came next. I liked predictable. Unfortunately, people were not predictable. They did things you wouldn’t expect, and they said things that weren’t always kind.
Thinking about Patrick reminded me I needed to call him. I pulled out my cell phone and dialed the number on the card. I didn’t trust myself to make another impromptu visit. Being with Mae was difficult. Good, but difficult. It was a reminder of what I didn’t have.
I didn’t want to get caught staring at her and taking a trip into my little fantasy world and risk getting hard. That would be a little obvious and a lot embarrassing. Although I wasn’t ashamed to admit the woman turned me on like no other woman could or ever would.
“Patrick!” I said when he picked up the phone.
“This is he,” he said with a great deal of skepticism. “Who is this?”
“It’s Tyson Helms!”
“Oh shit, Tyson? Man, it has been forever!”
I laughed. “Yes, it has. Did Mae tell you I stopped by yesterday?”
“No, she didn’t but I haven’t talked to her since Sunday.”
I didn’t give myself a chance to think about why the two of them worked together but had not talked in a couple of days. Hearing his voice took me way back. “How are you?”
“I’m good,” he said. “Yourself?”
“Good. I had no idea you were in Philadelphia.”
He laughed. “Hard to leave the city of brotherly love and all that.”
I smiled. “I hear you there.”
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“I talked with Alec and he tells me you reached out about merging the antique business. Is that true?”
“I did talk with Alec. How do you know him?”
He didn’t know I was the man behind the company. That was only a little awkward. Anonymity could be a double-edged sword. For a brief second, I thought about letting Alec be the owner. It could save a little weirdness between old friends. “He—well, he works for me.”
There was an awkward silence. “He works for you?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“You are the owner of Historical Estates?” he asked as if he wasn’t sure I was talking about the same place.
Once again, I thought about denying it. I wasn’t embarrassed by my success, but I didn’t want to seem like a braggart either. “I am.”
“Wow,” he breathed the word. “I had no idea.”
“Does that change things?” I asked. I was assuming we were on friendly terms, but I knew there was a slim chance that wasn’t the case.
“No, not at all,” he answered. “I’m just surprised. I didn’t know you were in the city, let alone the business.”
“I am. I was hoping we could get together and talk about what you were proposing and maybe catch up over a beer or something.”
I heard him hiss. “Man, I wish we could, but I’m going to be out of town for at least a week. Maybe two.”
“Oh, I see,” I said.
“You could talk with Mae,” he offered. “She knows just as much about the business as I do. I’m assuming you’re interested.”
“I am interested but I think it would be better if you and I talked,” I told him. “I’m sure Mae has a lot to say but it’s a good excuse for us to get together.”
He chuckled. “I get it. That would be great. I’ll call you when I get back into town.”
“Do,” I said. “I’ll talk to you then.”
I hung up the phone. It was good to touch base with him. I wanted to know why he was interested in selling—or merging rather. I would convince him to sell. I didn’t think it would be that hard. He wouldn’t have reached out if he wasn’t interested in selling. The merger was just a starting point.
The car pulled to a stop in front of my museum. I got out and headed inside. I walked toward the small office I kept in back. Alec was already there.
He looked up from where he was sitting at the desk. “You’re here,” he said, getting to his feet.
“Apparently,” I answered. “What’s up?”
“I was just going over the latest numbers.”
I raised my eyebrows. “And?”
He grinned. “You know they’re good.”
“Attendance up?” I questioned.
“Slightly. I think once we get those new pieces on display and start doing some advertising, it will definitely go up.”
I nodded. “That’s the idea.”
“Did you talk to that guy, the one I gave you the card for?” he asked. He got up from behind the desk and moved to close the door. Once again, I got the impression he wanted to tell me something.
“I did.”
“Is he interested in selling?”
“We didn’t get that far,” I said.
He groaned. “Oh no. That good, huh?”
“Actually, it isn’t bad. He’s out of town for a couple of weeks. When he gets back into town, we’ll talk.”
“Did you look into the place?”
I shrugged. “I didn’t have to. I know it.”
“Have you dealt with it before?” he asked.
“Not in the business world. I know the owner.”
“Oh. Is that going to be a problem?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so. It might make things easier.”
Alec didn’t look convinced. “Mixing business and friendships is never a good idea.”
“We were friends a long time ago. Besides, I have no problem being generous. The family is good people. They were good to me. Maybe this is my chance to give back a little.”
He did not look thrilled with the idea. “Just be careful. You might end up burning a bridge. People are finicky when it comes to money. You could offer too low and offend him. Offer too high, and you screw yourself.”
I smirked. “I’m not going to go broke if I pay a little over market value. In this business, things only become more valuable. I will recoup the loss eventually.”
“All right, but maybe I should handle the negotiations.”
I shrugged. “We’ll see.”
I was looking forward to the chance to catch up with Patrick. It had been too long. We were both adults now, living in the same city. We could be friends. It would be nice to have someone to hang out with now and again. Someone I could grab a beer with and not worry about offending. I found that in my social circle, people were easily offended. I didn’t act like them. I didn’t have the same upbringing. I had nothing in common with them and it showed.
“I was just going to check out the new display with the Egyptian death statue,” he said.
“It’s not a death statue,” I corrected.
“You know what I mean. It’s a little creepy to think that thing hung out in a tomb with a dead guy for a long time.”
I never thought of it as creepy, but I understood his opinion. “Let’s go check it out.”
We walked into the museum. The space was only about four-thousand-square foot, which was small by some standards, but when you were the guy trying to fill the space to make it interesting, it was massive. The museum was an old warehouse, transformed. The floors were a beige tile that reflected the hundreds of lights hanging from the ceiling, giving the interior space a much larger feel.
I headed for the case, front and center, and stood in front of the shabti. It looked even more fantastic on display than it had sitting on the dirty table. To the average person, it was nothing more than another old statue. To me, it was a unique look into an ancient civilization.
“Did you see the story they put together?” Alec asked.
I smiled, nodding. “It was sent to me for approval. I think it is very possible the statue was supposed to be a nurse or mother figure. It is unlike any of the other shabtis I have seen. I think the person who put this figure in the tomb did so because the deceased was young.”
“It’s a good story and one that I’m sure our visitors are going to find interesting.”
We moved on from the shabti display. I liked to check on the
displays now and again. I wanted things to be fresh and interesting to keep the people coming back. The internet gave everyone a free pass to judge harshly. I didn’t want to give anyone a reason to leave my museums negative reviews.
“I am going to head to the office,” Alec said after checking out the displays.
“I’ll see you there in a bit,” I replied, my gaze focused on a picture on the wall that was slightly crooked.
He left and I went in search of the manager to have the situation remedied quickly. One crooked picture could make the entire room look messy in my opinion. I strived for perfection. I was just on my way out when my eye was caught by a woman coming through the front doors. I stopped, frozen to where I stood.
It was Mae. Good god, she was gorgeous. She was wearing a pair of black tailored pants that ended just above her ankles. Black pumps made her legs look long and perfectly shaped. She was wearing a loose-fitting blouse that had shoulder cut-outs and gave her a perfectly feminine, yet sexy look.
I was in awe of her. I always had been. Well, not always. There was a brief period of time I thought of her as Patrick’s obnoxious, annoying little sister that was just a little awkward. Then one day, just like a butterfly, she’d emerged from that awkward shell.
Crushing on my best friend’s little sister was dangerous. It crossed lines that had been established for centuries. It just wasn’t done. But damn, she was hot.
Chapter 7
Mae
I was impressed by the cleanliness and organization the moment I stepped through the doors of the museum. I had been to plenty of museums over the years, but Tyson’s felt different. There was soft music playing, something that would have likely been the music of the ancient Egyptians. That was different and it did give a more immersive experience.
I felt eyes on me and looked around, spotting Tyson about forty feet away. He was intently staring at me, making me squirm a little. He was wearing loose-fitting jeans with a black polo. It was casual and sporty and very hot. Once again, my eyes were drawn to his biceps. I wanted to know what the tats were. I wanted to know how many more he was hiding.
