True North

by Amy Knupp

  His brother laughed and said, “Long time coming, Cole.”

  “Is this where they haze you?” Sierra asked.

  “Not if they’re smart.” Cole took her empty plate, stacked it with his, and passed them to Liz, who’d gestured for them. She took them, along with several others, to the kitchen counter, then retook her seat.

  “Hey,” Mason said over all the other voices. “Gabe and I have a couple things to say.”

  “What he means to say is shut the hell up,” Gabe said, his voice raised, aiming his grin at Miranda and Geraldine, who were still going on about who knew what.

  Miranda’s eyes widened when she noticed everyone was staring at them, and she made a smart-ass motion as if she were zipping her lips, her brows raised as if to say, Happy now?

  “As you all know,” Mason said in his serious CEO voice, which was pretty much his everyday voice, “we’re here today to celebrate our black sheep brother coming back to the flock.”

  “Mason,” their mother scolded, the only person in the world who could get away with that to him.

  “Said with brotherly love—and honesty,” he replied. “And it’s nicer than what he called me under his breath two minutes ago.”

  “That’s a fact,” Cole said as everyone laughed.

  “First of all,” Mason said, “I want to thank you, Sierra, for being understanding and a good sport as Cole, at my insistence, basically screwed you over.”

  Again, a round of laughter, Sierra’s included, though inside, Cole cringed. He put his hand on her thigh, wishing he could soothe away the inconveniences he’d caused her in the past week plus.

  Sobering, Mason continued, still addressing Sierra, “Sincerely, though, we found ourselves in a tricky situation, and Cole was the answer to our needs, but unfortunately, that put a burden on you, and for that I apologize. I know he’s been out more than in work for his last two weeks, and if it were me in your position, I’d be ready to lose my shit.”

  What he said was a hundred percent true. Cole had missed days, had squeezed in some half days, and had been there for maybe two full days since giving his notice. He hated it, even though Sierra insisted it was okay.

  “I lost it long ago,” Sierra said with a good-natured laugh. “I know what an opportunity this is for you,” she said directly to Cole, sincerity in her eyes. “It’s all good.”

  “We owe you,” Gabe said to Sierra, “so we got you a little something as a token of North Brothers Sports’ appreciation.” He stepped to the couch and handed Sierra one of two envelopes he was holding. “That’s a gift card to Selma’s, enough for two people and then some to get some high-end grub. Whether you choose to take this guy or not is your problem.” He gestured to Cole and garnered another laugh.

  “Wow. This is completely unnecessary, but thank you,” Sierra said. “We’ll see if he can work me in for a date night.” She gazed up at him with a flirty look, and hell yes, he’d work her in for a date night and more.

  “It’s worth noting,” Mason said, “that our middle brother has never—not once—brought a girl home, for dinner or anything else, before tonight. So it seems he’s turning over a new leaf or two.”

  “I’ve turned over so many damn leaves I think I have a different tree altogether,” Cole said, shoving down the uneasiness that truth stirred up, entwining his fingers with Sierra’s without thought, and then, belatedly, realizing what he’d done—and liking it.

  “We’re happy about that,” Mason said, “because I’m not sure when I’ve been so impressed by a new hire. We’ve always known you’re brilliant and suspected you could do whatever you decided you wanted to do.” Mason shared a knowing big-brother look with Gabe. “We were right. I don’t think we could’ve found anyone else who could step in the way you did, last minute, learning the company details on the fly, and handling some crucial projects for our business. The company’s future depends on these undertakings going smoothly, and the way you came in and took control, using your renovation experience and knowledge… So far, you’re killing it. Just like we knew you would.”

  “It’s like you were born for this position,” Gabe said. “Just took a few decades to realize it.”

  Everyone else laughed, but Cole was overcome by the praise, because for years, he’d thought his brothers, especially hard-ass Mason, considered him nothing but a fuckup.

  If you took Sierra out of the mix, Cole could admit he was glad he’d taken the job. Though he’d been thrown directly into the fire, it turned out he knew what he was doing, could handle the challenges hurled at him from day one. A lot of that was thanks to Sierra, who’d included him in almost every aspect of her business, from codes and permits to architects and planning.

  The intensity of the North Brothers projects—all damn four of them—was tenfold, in part because of the scope of each and in part because there were four at a time, but Cole was handling that too so far.

  Mason had accompanied him to the first meetings in Tallahassee, Cole’s getting-his-feet-wet treat, Mason had called it, and though it was said as a joke, Cole found that having the CEO of the company there at his side gave him an appreciation for the clout the company carried. It gave him confidence going forward, knowing his family’s company was respected and revered. And Mason’s confidence in him turned out to be genuine and not something he’d spouted just to get Cole to take the job. Though the oldest North brother had been at his side for those first meetings, Mason had told him numerous times, That’s your call, You decide, or You’re the renovation expert.

  “You’re my hero, Colester,” Miranda said, grinning, smacking his knee. “But really, so happy you’re with us now.”

  “Hear, hear!” Logan raised his champagne flute as if ready for a toast, but Mason waved him off.

  “One more thing,” Mason said, then gestured to Gabe, his eyes on the remaining envelope.

  “Yeah.” Gabe took a half step forward and cleared his throat, as if he had a ball of emotion stuck there. He’d always been the soft-ass North brother, Cole thought in an effort to shove aside his own emotions. “So…as most of you know, back when we were kids, all eight of us, when North Brothers Sports began taking off and expanding, becoming successful, Dad and Uncle Ham agreed that they wanted the company to belong to the whole family. As you also probably know, they had it set up so that the profits each year are divided among us, their children and spouses.”

  None of this was news to Cole, but he waited to see where Gabe was going with it, a kernel of unease lodging in his gut.

  “What you may or may not know is that Cole, during what we’ll call his rebel period, decided he wanted nothing to do with earnings from the company, and shortly after he graduated from high school, he insisted on signing away his rights to his share.”

  “What?” Miranda gasped, and had it been any other topic, Cole would’ve laughed at her scandalized tone. “Is that true?”

  Cole merely nodded, his uneasiness blossoming.

  “I advised against it,” Gabe continued.

  “As did I,” Mason said, “but one thing Cole wasn’t good at back then was taking advice.”

  Cole couldn’t deny that, so he merely shrugged, hating that everyone was looking at him.

  “Anyway, we had the appropriate paperwork drawn up back then, and he signed it and gave up his right to the share that Dad and Uncle Ham had intended him to have.”

  “Dummy,” Miranda breathed.

  Again, Cole shrugged. He still stood behind it. He hadn’t done a thing to help the company, so why should he reap the benefits from it?

  “What he didn’t know,” Gabe said, “is that Mason and I, with the help of the company lawyers, had it set up so that his share still exists and still earns every year, along with the rest of ours. He just didn’t have access to it.”

  “You’re shitting me,” Cole said, unsure how to feel about it. In essence, they’d blown off his wishes all those years ago. “Why the hell did you do that? I told you then it should go t
o the people who contributed to the business. The rest of you.” He indicated the whole group.

  “We’ve all been well taken care of by the company,” Connor, sitting on the far end of the love seat, assured him.

  “Dad and Uncle Ham didn’t set these up to reward us for being employees,” Mason said. “That’s what paychecks are for. They set these up to take care of their families, to provide for the people they loved. And that’s why we’d like to present you with the paperwork to put the share back in your name, along with all the proceeds from all the years, including from investments that Aunt Liz, our finance wizard, has ensured increased the value several times over.”

  “No arguments. It’s rightfully yours,” Gabe said.

  Cole swallowed, overcome and unable to speak as a shit storm of emotions thundered through him. He felt Sierra squeezing his fingers, felt the entire room gazing at him, then realized Gabe was still holding the business-sized envelope out in front of him. Like a robot, Cole took it, gauging from the weight of it there were two or three pages inside spelling out the details.

  “Take it home, read it over, sign it, bring it in on Monday,” Gabe said. “It’s pretty straightforward.”

  Cole nodded, or he was pretty sure he did anyway, but he was so overwhelmed he couldn’t swear to it. “That’s…” Shit. He worked at keeping his cool, tried not to let on that this was fucking with him big-time. Swallowing hard, still holding on to Sierra’s hand, he said, “Thank you.” He nodded. “I’ll look it over.” When he saw that Gabe was about to argue, he said, again, “Thanks.”

  The room burst out into cheers and clapping and congratulations, then Mason interrupted by clinking his cake fork on his glass.

  “Toast time!” Liz called out, and Cole realized Sierra was holding his flute out to him.

  When everyone mostly shut up, eyes on Mason, he held up his glass. “To our brother Cole. It’s been a long journey, and I strongly believe that journey has forged you into the more-than-capable special projects manager you are today—”

  “Badass special projects manager,” Miranda added.

  With a grin, Mason amended, “Badass special projects manager. From all of us, welcome to North Brothers Sports, Cole. Here’s to a fulfilling, successful future.”

  Various calls of hear, hear and cheers rang out around the room.

  “To Cole,” Sierra said at his side, and he met her gaze briefly, reminded himself to smile as he clinked glasses with her.

  As everyone drank to the toast, Cole tried his best to savor the moment, to look forward to a rewarding future, and to block out the little voice inside that said he didn’t deserve any of this.

  Chapter Thirty

  Two days after Cole’s family party, on Monday evening, Sierra stretched out on the couch in his apartment, her feet next to his lap as he sat upright on the end near his easy chair. She would’ve had her head in his lap, but they were entrenched in game three of a best-of-three Words with Friends battle, and she didn’t want him to see her letters. God’s truth, he had a big enough advantage with that brain of his as it was, and the stakes were high—loser had to clean out Tito’s litter box.

  Cole had slaughtered her in game one, she’d won by two points in game two, and now she was determined to somehow overcome a sixty-point deficit in game three, in spite of having nothing but one-point letters in her hand.

  Once she finished her turn, she popped off the couch and picked up their dirty plates from dinner, which they’d set on the coffee table. Cole could hold his own in the kitchen and had made them chicken enchiladas and Mexican rice. After spending Saturday night and yesterday together at her apartment, they’d arranged to meet here at his today after work—he’d worked the morning with her and her crew for the very last time, as they’d agreed, and spent the afternoon in meetings at North Brothers.

  Yesterday, Tito had managed to get the cabinet under the kitchen sink open at some point while Cole was at her place, knocking over the cleaning supplies stored there and then chewing through the bag of cat crunchies—even though his bowls were still half-full—scattering the pellets all over the kitchen floor in the process. A cry for attention, Cole had explained, then called the cranky cat a home wrecker at the same time he rubbed the beast’s jowls. Tito was stretched out on the easy chair now, taking up far more room than any twelve-pound cat should need, and Sierra had to admit it was hard to resist his fuzzy cuteness.

  As she rinsed off their plates and put them in the dishwasher, she couldn’t help thinking about Cole and her, as a couple, and how close they’d become in a short amount of time. Close and domestic, she thought with a private grin. She’d figured out that the less they talked about them, the more Cole let her in. And his frequent traveling made him even more apt to spend the nights he was in town with her. Playing it cool was okay for now, but it wasn’t a long-term option as far as she was concerned.

  Though they’d spent a chunk of Sunday naked, they’d also watched a movie, hit the bookstore on Hale Street, and gone to Clayborne’s for dinner. In a way, it felt like they’d been together for years—natural, comfortable, companionable, with a healthy dose, or probably an above-average dose, of the most incredible sex of her life.

  Tonight, however, Cole seemed a little distant. Preoccupied.

  With the kitchen semi-tidied up, Sierra headed back toward the couch, noticing the envelope lying on the breakfast bar on her way.

  “Is that the document Gabe gave you Saturday night?” she asked.

  Cole looked up distractedly, then mumbled an mm-hmm when he saw what she pointed at.

  “Have you signed it yet?” she asked, pretty sure Gabe had said something about bringing it into the North Brothers office today.

  “Nah,” he said, apparently sending his play, as her phone dinged to notify her it was her turn.

  As she opened the game, she eyed him. He’d told her the story of giving up his share of North Brothers Sports back when he was eighteen. It’d been seven figures at the time, but he hadn’t wanted a thing to do with it. She had no idea how much it was worth now, but she got the impression the amount would be staggering to her.

  She made a comfortable living with Dunn & Lowell, basically had everything she needed, and she couldn’t fathom what a person would do with so much money. Especially a guy like Cole, who was humble, didn’t spend a lot, didn’t seem to need a lot beyond the basics. But even as an outsider to the North family, she could appreciate the significance of the gesture, the love and respect for his brothers to have kept his share separate and well-tended all these years, waiting for the right moment to return it to him. Now that he was working with them, getting along with them, it seemed like signing and accepting was a no-brainer. She bit down on any questions, as it wasn’t her business.

  “Only twenty-seven points?” she scoffed as she saw his play and sidled up next to him on the couch. “You’re slipping. You must have terrible letters.”

  “Accurate assessment. Just waiting for you to play something decent that I can play on.”

  That wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. Her letters were mostly vowels and fully uninspiring. The man beside her, however…

  Inspired, Sierra tossed her phone to the couch cushion next to her and executed a quick move that had her straddling Cole, her face inches from his. Hoping to distract him from his distractedness, she kissed him, slowly, thoroughly, feeling the usual heat spark between them, pulsing from her core outward. She could swear Cole felt it too, based on the low, sexy groan that rumbled out of him, but then he pulled away slightly, let out a dazed laugh, and said, “Conceding already? Litter box is in the bathroom.”

  She straightened, her competitive spirit fueled by his cockiness—and she really did hate litter boxes. Besides, she’d seen the ten-point J in her hand, and Cole had left one of the Triple Word spaces vulnerable. Hopping off him, she went to work, determined to make a large dent in his lead.

  A few minutes later, Sierra had managed to come within two points
of him. They’d trash-talked with each turn, and it might seem ridiculous to trash-talk about a word game, especially a phone version, but this was them, and she loved it. When Cole saw the updated score and that she was closing in, he made a show of intensifying his efforts. She rolled her eyes and laughed, then opened her email to check it, recognizing that he was going to take his sweet time and likely come back with a big play.

  She hadn’t checked her email since leaving work and saw that there were forty-two new messages. Skimming over the list of senders, she paused and her heart skipped a beat when she saw Adam Riccio about halfway down, with the subject line Eldridge Mansion Renovation Contest. She sat up on the edge of the couch and hesitated before clicking on it, gauging her gut feeling. She still felt good about it, she discovered. She’d given it her best effort, and her proposal for the project was damn good. Disregarding the half thought that a phone call would be a more dramatic way to impart good news, she clicked, skimmed the first paragraph, and felt her heart sink in her chest at the words unfortunately and not selected.

  Her body seemed to forget to breathe as the words sank in.

  “Damn,” she said on a shallow exhale, closing her eyes. Damn, damn, damn.

  Thinking maybe there was a chance she’d read that wrong, she held her phone up and double-checked. Read each word this time instead of skimming. Nope, still the worst news. It was short and not so sweet, and it didn’t make her feel better to learn she was first runner-up. The winner was the good-looking guy from Memphis, who’d, in Sierra’s opinion, had the least appealing presentation of all of them. But her opinion didn’t matter.

  Her phone sounded with the notification that Cole had played, but she didn’t really register it.

  There’d be no TV show for her, no opportunity to reap the publicity, expand her business, add a second crew, tie in her episodes with a YouTube channel and blog. Though she’d made peace with her interview answers, even to the tricky questions about her lack of a foreman at the time and her gender, she hadn’t realized quite how strongly she’d believed she was going to win. Like a fool, she’d believed if she didn’t allow herself to consider a negative result, she wouldn’t get one.