That pulled a full-on laugh from her, the kind of laugh that wasn’t mean, but told Kirby she was in on the joke and a full conspirator.
She not only got Davis’ humor, she was humoring Davis.
Holy shit, if he lost her, he might as well give up all hopes of ever finding a woman who could put up with the crazy that was life with Davis.
By the time dinner ended that evening, she’d asked if they wanted to meet somewhere for dinner on Wednesday night. Before Kirby could answer, Davis did.
“We’d like that, thank you.”
“You two decide,” she said. “Just let me know where.”
Before they parted ways for the evening, she’d also friended Davis on FetLife after he told her he’d created an account there. They walked her to her car and Kirby hugged her.
“Thank you,” he whispered, low enough that hopefully Davis couldn’t hear. “I’ll text you tomorrow.”
She gave him another wink as they parted.
Even more shocking, she’d held up a fist for the expected bump, but Davis leaned in and gave her a quick hug that was little more than a pat on the back before he’d stepped away again.
Wow! she silently mouthed to Kirby when Davis had turned away from her.
He grinned and gave her a thumbs-up.
On the way home, Kirby didn’t even bother trying to dissect the evening. He’d relaxed, enjoyed himself, Davis seemed to have enjoyed himself, and Mel wanted to spend more time with him.
It was Davis who spoke when they were about a mile from the house. “It didn’t upset you that I accepted her dinner invitation for both of us, did it?”
“No, buddy. I’m glad you’re pushing yourself to go out more. And I appreciate you doing that.”
“Okay. Thank you. I’m comfortable talking to her. She seems to get my humor.”
“I noticed. That’s cool, huh?”
“If you wanted to ever invite her over to the house, I wouldn’t object to that.”
Holy.
Shit.
This must be what winning the Super Bowl felt like. “I appreciate that, Davis. If things get to that point with her, I might take you up on that.”
When they returned home, Davis retreated to his room and shut the door. Kirby stared down the hall, trying to figure his brother out.
Again, any other man, he’d assume the guy was trying to edge him out.
But this was Davis.
It wasn’t in Davis’ DNA to be an asshole like that. The luck of the genetic draw had “gifted” Davis with who he was, but one thing he was not was an intentional asshole. Put Davis in a setting he was comfortable in, with people he was comfortable with, and Davis was a kind, gentle, friendly guy with a quirky sense of humor. He was passionate about nature and spent a lot of time out at Myakka River State Park.
When they’d been in Boy Scouts, around the kids they’d been familiar with and had known for years, Davis was practically a stand-up comedian, always keeping people laughing. He was also the first to jump in to help if someone needed it. Davis was a good guy who processed the world through a slightly different filter than Kirby did.
No, Kirby was convinced this was Davis putting forth a massive effort on Kirby’s behalf, and for that, he couldn’t love his brother more.
When a yawn caught him by surprise, Kirby locked the front door, went to preset the coffee for in the morning, and headed for bed.
Chapter Eight
Davis’ routine Monday morning progressed as it always did. Arise at six, go turn on the coffeepot, take a shower, get coffee, get dressed, and eat.
There was one unexpected addition to that.
Not an unpleasant one, either.
That in and of itself was unusual, because most unexpected additions to his routine were unpleasant, usually relating to an unforeseen circumstance like weather, car trouble, or Kirby-caused.
Today’s addition threatened to distract him. Thoughts of Melanie wouldn’t leave his brain. Her green eyes, her red hair, her smile.
Her obvious anxiety that outwardly matched his own, even if he was better at masking it than she was.
It wasn’t often he felt like this about a woman.
Damned rare, in fact. As in, this was the first time.
Not that he didn’t feel sexual attraction, because he did. He was human. Again, he masked it better than most men. It wasn’t something he spent time outwardly discussing or displaying. He kept it to himself unless the woman expressed an interest in him, like Felicity.
That Felicity hadn’t approached him in months for sex, and he’d overheard her having sex in her office one evening when she didn’t realize he was outside the door, indicated to Davis that avenue had permanently closed. He didn’t mind being fuck buddies or friends with benefits with her, but if she was involved with someone else, he wouldn’t be involved with her.
Especially since she hadn’t taken the time to let him know that.
In the past when she’d dated others, she’d at least done him the courtesy of informing him of that.
Or so he’d thought. Maybe she had lied about that after all. It’d been one of his conditions of having that kind of relationship with her.
It no longer mattered, as far as he was concerned. She’d damaged his trust in her and he didn’t give second chances for a situation like this. He couldn’t even say he was upset about it. While she was good in bed, she wasn’t pleasant to be around in social circumstances.
Correction, he didn’t find her pleasant to be around in social circumstances.
Most of the people in the world fell under that umbrella, however.
Yes, she technically was his boss. When she’d first propositioned him six years earlier, he hadn’t been with anyone in a while and had not found her objectionable. She liked that he wasn’t interested in a permanent relationship with her.
It had seemed a mutually beneficial arrangement, at the time. He hadn’t needed to put forth the effort or emotional energy to be a “boyfriend” to her, and he didn’t have to awkwardly dance around her feelings.
But…Melanie.
He knew Kirby was attracted to her. It couldn’t have been more blatantly obvious. All that had been missing was a display of hindquarters or dew flap or tail feathers.
Why can’t I stop thinking about her?
That was a question he turned over in his head from about three minutes after waking until he stepped out of his car once he’d parked in his assigned spot at Murality Phosphate and headed upstairs to his office.
He’d worked his way up to their head chemist—which wasn’t his official title but the official title was too long and boring even if it was printed on his corporate-issued business cards—not because he’d had a desire to climb the corporate ladder but because he’d proven himself countless times over and outlasted everyone else in his department.
It was a job. It was a job that allowed him to think and focus and deal primarily with facts and figures and findings and not with feelings. Lab reports weren’t imbued with emotions.
Thankfully.
He had to walk past Felicity’s office to get to his own and her open door showed that she wasn’t in. Technically, she was a VP in charge of something, under her father but above Davis.
He didn’t care.
He did his job. It didn’t matter to him where she was or who she was fucking as long as she didn’t interfere with his job duties.
This morning, he had a staff meeting to run for his department, like they did every Monday morning at ten. He had a staff of twenty-three people under him, both scientists and non-research support and administrative staff. Summaries of all reports would be presented to him, any anomalies or issues from the week before would be detailed, and the week’s work would be outlined and assigned, if necessary.
Felicity rarely sat in on the Monday morning meetings, something he preferred, because when she was there she tended to ask ignorant questions that highlighted just how unqualified she was to be in her position.
That took up valuable time and usually put them all behind schedule. His staff would waste their energies trying to spare her feelings and stroke her ego responding to her inquiries, since she was technically their superior, while Davis would bluntly answer and challenge her.
A couple of times, that had led to angry sex on Felicity’s part later, which always confounded Davis when it happened.
Yet he hadn’t complained, because…
Well, sex was sex. And that was what their personal relationship consisted of—just sex.
Melanie’s face came to mind again as he stopped at his office door to unlock it. On his door, prominently displayed, was his sign warning people that any and all discussions inside might be videotaped. Once inside, he closed the door behind him again.
He kept his door closed for a reason. He didn’t want people randomly dropping in to waste his time and interrupt him. They could text him, e-mail him, or call him, if it was an emergency.
Over the years, he’d trained his staff to the point that they knew not to bother him in person. In return, he respected their time and tried to handle as much as possible via expedient means. Even Kirby and his parents knew to text him when he was at work if they needed to talk to him on the phone. Otherwise, he’d let it go to voice mail and not check it for hours sometimes.
Only when in the lab did he freely engage in conversations, always related to work issues. If he was there, obviously it was to work.
For the most part, his staff understood his quirks and his need for solitude while working. Any new hires were quickly brought up to speed by the others. He had an agreeable relationship with his department because while they knew he wouldn’t be their best friend, they also knew he wouldn’t irrationally fly off the handle, be unreasonable regarding work situations, or engage in inter-office politics and gamesmanship.
He…just didn’t care.
He was there to work and do his job and expected those under him to do the same. He tolerated them having their own quirks and things like birthday parties or holiday decorations, because it was what they needed to work more efficiently in the long-run.
Having Kirby as a brother had taught him that.
As long as they didn’t expect him to decorate his office door or get their feelings hurt that he didn’t dress up for Halloween, and they understood it was not any kind of judgment against them by him not participating, and they did their work on time and accurately, it was fine.
He settled in at his desk, logged into his computer terminal, and forced thoughts of Melanie off to the side for now. Otherwise, it’d be too easy for him to start e-mailing Kirby with suggestions of restaurants they could take her to on Wednesday night. And he couldn’t do that.
He had a meeting to prepare for.
* * * *
“Oh, Mel, thank god you’re here!”
Melanie froze mid-sip of her coffee from her travel mug and slowly turned to face George, the commercial manager at the main Mattlin Meadows store, also where their corporate business offices were located.
It was barely seven thirty on Monday morning, and she was definitely not awake yet. In fact, she’d drifted through her morning up until that point while thinking about Kirby and Davis.
As George hurried across the parking lot toward her, the look of sheer desperation on his face told her whatever this was, it could not be good.
“What’s wrong?” she muttered.
Everyone knew not to approach her before nine o’clock on a Monday morning—or any morning, but especially Mondays—unless it was an emergency.
“The commercial terminals won’t come up.”
“What?”
He pointed over his shoulder at the large building that sat off to the side of the one they were standing outside of, and where their commercial nursery and landscaping division was housed. “The system is down.”
“Dammit.” She unlocked the side door and let them in, locking it behind them. Walking over to one of the point-of-sale terminals in the public showroom, she set her coffee mug on the counter and tried to boot the workstation there. Sure enough, it was down, too.
She let out a sigh. “Let me get into my office and see what’s up. Give me about five minutes.”
“Thank you!”
She wasn’t an IT person by any stretch of the imagination, but she knew the basics of their system since she’d been the one to have it installed. The main server in the business office ran all the other terminals. If they lost their Internet connection, at least the point-of-sales systems could be run off-line and batched out to the credit card processor once the connection was restored. But the computers should still be talking to the on-site main server through the wireless router, even if the Internet was down.
The other locations had backup software systems that allowed them to still function even if the main server went down, and then update transactions and data to the main server when connectivity was restored. And if they had Internet, they could still process credit card sales. They just wouldn’t be able to check inventory at other locations or customer purchase histories for their reward points program. The other locations wouldn’t open until nine, so no one had likely discovered the problem yet.
The first thing she did was pull her personal cell phone out and check the WiFi connection to the Internet.
Sure enough, she had bars there, meaning the wireless router and the Internet were both operational.
That meant something else was going on.
Weaving her way through the showroom to the locked door that opened into the business office, she set her stuff down on her desk and continued on to the server room. Which was a fancy name for the large closet with an AC vent ducted into it to keep it cool.
As she started to unlock it, she heard an ominous beep from inside.
“Aw, dammit.” She knew that sound. The battery backup system had failed, shutting down the whole system. This was the second time one of their units, a large commercial-grade UPS, had failed. This was the warranty replacement unit the manufacturer had sent to her four months earlier.
Groaning in frustration, she unplugged the server from it, plugged it directly into the wall power, and got the system rebooted and back up and running. Since no one had contacted her yesterday, it must have happened after they closed Sunday evening.
Which was fortuitous, because at least they hadn’t lost any sales.
Ten minutes later, as the monitor showed it was up and running, she called George down at the commercial building. “Try it now.”
“Okay.” She heard the telltale beep of his computer being powered up. A moment later, he let out a sigh. “Yep, there it is. I have a guy here who needs to leave, and he was really getting upset. One of our regulars.”
“Give him twenty-five dollars off and put in the invoice notes that I okayed it and why,” she said. “Hopefully that makes him happy.”
“It probably will. Thanks, Mel!”
“You’re welcome.” She hung up and returned to her office, finally able to sip her coffee as she waited for her own office terminal to come up.
That gave her time to think about that weekend. Yes, it was way too soon to be daydreaming about the handsome Silva brothers. Kirby was obviously the more outgoing of the two, but Davis had his own charms. She wouldn’t have guessed they were twins had they not told her.
She thought about the fact that she now had Kirby and Davis’ contact information in her phone, and that she was now friends with both men on FetLife.
Even Kim, Cole, and Mason had agreed that Kirby seemed interested in her, and that he hadn’t thrown up any red flags for them.
Go. Slow.
She’d been through this too many times to count, unfortunately. The excitement of a possible new relationship, followed by moving too quickly, and then ending up hurt, her hopes dashed.
This time would be different. It had to be different, because she couldn’t keep living her life like that.
Disappointed.
Hurt.<
br />
Alone.
Being alone sucked. Not having someone on her side to confide in, a romantic partner, not just a friend.
It wasn’t even the living alone part that bothered her so much as the feeling that maybe the common denominator was her, and she was the broken one not deserving of a relationship.
If I get to know Kirby better and it still implodes even after Kim and her guys have given me guidance, then maybe I should look into hypoallergenic cats for my long-term plan.
Chapter Nine
Monday morning, Kirby had a hard time concentrating on his work. He still couldn’t believe they were going to eat dinner with Melanie on Wednesday night. He’d have to wait until Davis got home to drill him about what had gotten into him and why he was trying so hard. He was genuinely curious.
Then again, maybe I shouldn’t do that. Not look the gift horse in the mouth.
Instead, he’d let Davis pick the restaurant and give thanks for his brother finally starting to get the hang of adulting.
Monday afternoon, Davis sent him a one-word text.
Sigalo’s.
Kirby studied the text. He got it. Davis was comfortable eating there, had eaten there multiple times, and they’d already eaten there with Melanie.
It was a familiar pattern. When Davis found a restaurant he didn’t object to, usually through Kirby picking it on one of his nights, he tended to eat there a lot.
Kirby only hoped Melanie would be so agreeable.
He texted him back.
Okay. I’ll text her.
He actually decided to text her asking if he could call. She replied by calling him.
“Yes?”
He sat back and closed his eyes, imagining her green eyes. He’d rubbed one out the night before thinking about her. “Okay, so I have good news and bad news.”
“Uh-oh. What’s the bad news?”
“Well, that kind of messes up how I was going to tell it. Davis picked Sigalo’s for dinner on Wednesday night.”
“That’s the bad news?”
“Yeah. I mean, I know we just ate there and we’re eating there again on Saturday.”
Ask DNA [Suncoast Society] (Siren Publishing Sensations) Page 7
