by Amy Knupp
Chapter Twenty-Five
Though Drake barely knew what day it was, his phone assured him it was Saturday, going on five p.m. He had twelve minutes to get to his meeting with Mason, and for once in his life, he was making a point of being on time. With all the shit running through his head, the last thing he needed was a typical Mason comment about Drake’s propensity for being late.
It could probably be argued that Drake wasn’t in the condition to do something of this magnitude even after sleeping until midafternoon. According to the calendar, he and Mackenzie had woken up in Jiva just “yesterday,” or rather, he’d woken up alone in Mackenzie’s bed in Jiva just yesterday and found her on the beach in a subdued mood. The thirty-one hours of traveling they’d done since then had been twice as arduous as the trip to the South Pacific. The longest leg of the journey, from Fiji to LA, had not been conducive to sleep, between restless kids and a cranky baby, long patches of significant turbulence, and the tension coming off Mackenzie the whole way. She claimed it was just the getting-back-to-real-life transition, but he wasn’t sure he believed her.
When he’d dropped her off at her apartment last night, just after midnight local time, he would’ve given anything to follow her inside and collapse in her bed with her and, honest to God, just sleep. But Mackenzie had reminded him they’d only agreed to be together for the duration of their trip, and she’d turned him down flat, even when he’d flashed her the most engaging smile he could summon, then allowed him a quick, nearly chaste kiss and gone inside alone, rolling her suitcase behind her.
Sure, they’d agreed, five days ago, to end it when the trip was over, but he didn’t see the harm in letting things continue on a casual basis now that they were back in the States. They’d grown close enough that he couldn’t fathom not having her in his life, at the bare minimum as friends. She was one of the only people in the universe who truly knew what this upcoming meeting meant for him. He hadn’t confided just to let her disappear from his world completely.
At any rate, the journey and the day and the disappointing goodbye had left Drake sleep-deprived, jet-lagged, and, though he wouldn’t admit it out loud, scared shitless of what he was about to do.
He pulled his Ducati into the North Brothers Sports headquarters parking lot, barely noticing that it was Mason’s Audi he parked next to, shut his bike down, hooked his helmet on it, and headed to the main door of the bland, unassuming building.
He’d always known the cause of his commitment issue, but after talking through it with Mackenzie, he knew it was time to make a change. He wouldn’t apologize for the way he’d lived his life, but once you let it out in the daylight that you were, in essence, running scared, it was tough to keep justifying it.
It didn’t mean the actual pulling of the trigger was easy.
He walked past the elevator and took the stairs to the second floor. The building seemed deserted, not surprising on the weekend, as the businesses housed on the first floor were financial, insurance, and a couple of others that were likely staffed by eight-to-fivers with work-life balance and a measure of sanity. Not like Mason. But he couldn’t fault his oldest brother. He was turning out to be a hell of a leader and a smart businessman, and Drake was thankful he’d taken it upon himself to steer their dad’s company the way it needed in order to thrive.
The second-floor hallway was quiet, as was the NBS office once Drake went through the door and walked past the empty reception area. He didn’t see or hear anyone in the endless cube farm as he beelined for the corner office.
Mason’s door was closed, and as Drake got closer, he could hear his brother’s voice and figured he must be on the phone. He paused outside of the door, his heart racing, palms sweating, chest tightening.
Was he really going to do this? Give up his freedom and commit to a corporate gig?
It wasn’t too late to bail. He could walk in there and tell his brother he wasn’t going to do it. He hadn’t quit either of his jobs yet, hadn’t told a soul besides Mackenzie that he was planning to take the NBS position.
And then what?
Run scared for another twenty or thirty years and hope that eventually something else as intriguing and well-suited for him someday came along?
“Not gonna happen,” he muttered to himself, and then he knocked twice, swiftly, solidly on the door.
“Come in,” Mason said from the other side.
It hit him at once that Mason wasn’t on the phone and wasn’t alone. Gabe was leaning against the side table, and Cole was sprawled in one of the guest chairs opposite Mason. All three of them pierced him with astute, analyzing gazes, as if they were trying to discern his decision before he could get in the door.
“I didn’t realize you’d called in backup,” Drake said with what he hoped came across as an easygoing grin.
“I didn’t know whether we’d need the big guns or not,” Mason said, also smiling, and that caught Drake a little off guard because he’d expected his CEO brother to be his usual uptight, all-business self. He was equally stunned that Mason wore a button-down shirt instead of a suit, Saturday or not.
“He’s got you two coming in on the weekend now, huh?” Drake asked the others as he scooted the empty chair out a bit so that he could fit next to Cole without their knees bumping.
“I just got back into town,” Cole said. “We’re opening a store in Raleigh. Just broke ground Wednesday and I’ve been there ever since.”
“Raleigh,” Drake said. “Another state. Cool.”
“Well,” Mason said, “let’s not beat around the bush. Tell us what you’re thinking.”
And there it was, CEO Mason, but Drake appreciated it. He couldn’t stomach a bunch of small talk about the Cardinals’ prospects or their mom’s landscaping project with Lexie.
Drake sat up straighter, said a silent what the hell in his head, and infused confidence into his voice when he said out loud, “I’m in.”
“Yesss,” Gabe said victoriously, standing and holding out his fist for Drake to bump, which he did.
“Sweet,” Cole said at nearly the same time, grinning widely. “Our baby brother showed up for a meeting early and accepted a full-time job all in one day. What the hell’s the world coming to? Congrats, man.”
“Thanks, asshole,” Drake said with affection.
When he turned toward Mason, expecting to find him ready to run down the fine print, the details, maybe even whip out a contract, he was shocked to see, instead, he was lining up four glass tumblers on his desk. Then he reached down into one of his desk compartments and came up with a tall, skinny, blue wood box. He opened it and took out a bottle of Macallan 30 scotch, which Drake knew ran in the five digits for one bottle. It looked to have been opened before, but the liquid still reached two thirds of the way to the top. Mason poured a couple inches of amber liquid into each glass.
So much for the stuffy business facade.
“Ah, the special stash,” Gabe said, approval in his tone.
All four of them picked up a glass without having to be told.
Mason held his glass up and nodded at Drake, and he didn’t have to say a word for Drake to decipher his feelings. His pride and happiness were evident in that one glance. Drake relished it silently, for once feeling like an equal instead of the carefree, irresponsible baby in the family.
“This stuff warrants a toast,” Cole said.
“Speech,” Gabe bellowed and Drake shook his head at the idiot.
Mason stood, taking the request seriously, of course. He darted his gaze from one brother to the other, then said, “Here at North Brothers, we have some of the best people working for us and with us. Most of them care a great deal about this company, but none of them will ever care as much as the North family does. And now we’re four strong on our side, plus the three cousins. Drake, you’re going to make a hell of an addition to our team. We’re thrilled to have you.”
“Hear, hear,” Gabe said as they all clinked their glasses together.
�
�Well said,” Cole added.
Drake loved his brothers, and he generally got along just fine with them, but at this moment, the solidarity he felt standing among them, their support and acceptance and genuine enthusiasm overwhelmed him, and all he could think to do was take a healthy swig of the thirty-year-old scotch. The smoothness on his tongue, combined with the hint of fire and the sweet tinge of sherry, had him closing his eyes and savoring it.
“Damn,” Gabe said in a tone that mimicked Drake’s opinion.
“You didn’t break out the good shit when I came on board,” Cole said.
“If I remember right, you got cake,” Mason replied, sitting back in his leather chair, one leg crossed over the other, looking mellow like Drake had never in his life seen him.
“It was damn good cake too,” Gabe said.
“Not as good as this.” Drake raised his glass in acknowledgment, then took another swig, smaller this time because he intended to make this stuff last.
“Not much is as good as this,” Mason said.
“We talking consumables or everything?” Cole said. “Because there are a few rare non-consumables that are up there.”
Drake made a whipping noise with his mouth, fully aware his brother was referring to Sierra.
“Hell,” Mason said. “We’re all happy you found loooove, Cole, but give it a rest.”
“Jealous bastards,” Cole said with a shit-eating grin.
Drake’s thoughts veered to Mackenzie, because as good as this scotch was, he tended to agree with Cole—in a non-whipped, non-pathetic way, of course. Not that he’d admit that to these lonely losers.
He had the passing thought that he was in basically the same spot as them when you got down to it. He’d likely be stuck alone tonight if Mackenzie had her way. He crushed that thought, determined not to let it ruin this celebratory moment.
“So we’ve got work to do,” Mason said, sitting up straight and rolling his chair closer to his desk as he set the scotch on it and flipped back into business mode. “Cole and I are meeting next week to start hammering out the general layout of our first home fitness retail center. We’ll have one of the branding experts involved as well, but we could use your expertise. What’s your schedule like? How soon can you start?”
Drake mentally flipped through his work schedule for the next week. He intended to work two more weeks at the gym and maybe in the store if they needed him, but if this was going to be his department, he wanted in on it from the ground floor. “I’ll give my notice tomorrow. I can work in some meetings when I’m not scheduled at the gym. But you need to catch me up. It sounds like you’ve decided where the first one’s going?” The last he’d heard, they hadn’t decided which of their stores to expand. There was a lot to consider, from zoning requirements to which markets had the most potential.
“We signed a deal on Thursday to build a new store here in town to replace the westside location,” Mason explained. “We’ve been bursting at the seams for space, and now home fitness requires even more square footage.”
“Market potential measures highest in that geographical area out of all the locations, even the new stores,” Gabe added.
“And it’ll be ideal to have it close to headquarters since it’s new and you’ll be right here.” Mason nodded to Cole. “We’ve played with the idea of building for years, but now that we have Cole on board, it’s a no-brainer.”
“Let’s do this then,” Drake said.
He took out his phone and shot his gym schedule to Mason so they could coordinate times to meet. The four of them discussed the new building and the general concept of the Home Fitness Division until their glasses were empty, and then Cole headed home to Sierra while the three of them gave him hell about being stupid in love. Privately, Drake was beginning to suspect Cole was a lucky son of a bitch, and he admitted the urge to go to Mackenzie was building, even though he had no right.
When Mason suggested they order Chinese food for delivery, Drake considered for about half a second, but as revved up as he was about digging into the planning, he was antsy as hell right now and needed to get out of there. He’d taken a giant step today. Tomorrow he would tend to some details, like giving notice and stocking up on some office-appropriate clothing, since athletic pants were likely frowned upon. But tonight…
Tonight he wanted to celebrate. And there was only one person he wanted to celebrate with.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Mackenzie loved her work, but she wasn’t stupid.
She’d learned, whenever she returned from a long trip, to take a full day off to recover. Saturday, in this case, was for honoring the jet lag.
Today was also about submerging herself in something she’d been anticipating for so, so long—the search for her very own home.
Before her Jiva trip, she’d asked Sierra for a mortgage banker recommendation, and she’d initiated the process of getting preapproved, scrambling to get all the necessary paperwork together prior to leaving. Now she had an approved budget to work with as well as a real estate agent—the same one Sierra and Cole were using—and an all-day appointment for Friday with that agent. Calvin Broderick had enthusiastically promised to set up as many showings as they could squeeze into the day, and Mackenzie could hardly wait.
In spite of her excitement, even though she’d been perusing listings online all day in between doing laundry and chores around the house, she was struggling hard to keep her mind off one tall, dark-haired, super-sexy man who was supposed to be a thing of the past.
She was camped out on the couch with her laptop, catching up on past episodes of Sierra’s home remodeling show—her friend really did have a gift for TV—as she combed through dozens of houses in her price range, getting a better handle on which neighborhoods and what features she could afford. When the buzzer on the dryer went off, she went to the tiny laundry room on the other side of the also-small kitchen and pulled the hot, clean clothes into a basket to fold in front of the TV. She had four more episodes to catch up on and hoped to be current by the time the network ran the engagement segment. She’d heard all about it from both Sierra and Cole, more than once, but she couldn’t wait to witness the romantic moment for herself.
As she made her way back to the couch, lugging the basket, there was a knock at the door, and she froze. Her heart pounded in her chest for no rational reason, except somehow she had a feeling as to who it was. She hadn’t yet met any of her neighbors besides Nadine, and other than Sierra and Lexie, she hadn’t had a chance to make friends. None of them were likely to drop by unannounced, which meant it was either a political canvasser or one tall, dark-haired super-sexy man who was—sigh—still supposed to be a thing of the past.
As far as she knew, it wasn’t a big political season.
After setting the basket on the wooden trunk that served as a coffee table, she muted the sound on the TV, which had been low anyway, her instinct being to pretend like she wasn’t home. Not exactly mature, but her body had shifted into something resembling fight-or-flight, shutting down reason.
She made her soundless way to the peephole, and yep. There stood the most enchanting guy on the face of the planet. He was eyeing the peephole as if he knew she was staring at him, even though she’d basically stopped breathing and there was no way he could see or hear her.
As she stared at him in indecision, his body language said he was starting to doubt whether she was there. He took half a step back, relaxed his shoulders, glanced left and right.
It could work. She could wait him out, act like no one was home, and watch him eventually walk away.
Drake stepped forward, knocked again, stepped back, turned ninety degrees, possibly looking for her car, which happened to be parallel parked on the street on the opposite side of the building. He wouldn’t find it unless he walked all the way around.
He did another ninety-degree pivot so that his back was to her, as if he was getting ready to give up. She was so close to pulling it off, hiding from him, saving her
heart a little bit, and she…couldn’t do it. Couldn’t resist the pull of him.
She opened the door and he whipped around, his smile making him that much more dangerous, and she couldn’t make herself care.
“Hi,” she said on an exhale, belatedly realizing that, once again, she didn’t look her best. With her hair an air-dried poof and her leggings and long-sleeved tee comfortable but not in the least bit flattering, she looked, well, like she’d been doing laundry all day.
“Hey, gorgeous.”
“You lie,” she said, smiling in spite of herself.
“Can I come in?” He advanced a step, and she wasn’t sure which would be a dumber move—standing her ground and letting him get way closer or backing up and allowing him into her apartment.
Since she’d already made the first move toward recklessness, she stepped back and invited him inside. If she stopped lying to herself, she’d admit there had never been any kind of choice with Drake.
“What’s up?” she asked, managing to sound casual as he came inside. “You seem…way energetic.”
It was his eyes and his smile. They didn’t look jet-lagged, but then why would someone like Drake North be bothered by a little thing like jet lag? The better to reel in weak souls like her, she supposed as she closed the door.
“I did it,” he said, his tone dipping and his gaze becoming somehow intimate, as if he was telling her a secret.
She was drawing a blank though, fuzzy-brained as she was. “What did you do?”
“I met with my brothers. Accepted the job. You’re looking at the new director of the North Brothers Sports Home Fitness Division.” He stood a little straighter, and for a moment, she saw the little-boy-ness in him again, the irresistible, sometimes unsure real Drake, looking to her for approval.
She didn’t make him wait, knowing exactly how much of a monster-sized step that one action was. Throwing her arms around him, she said, “Congratulations, Drake. I’m so happy for you.” She meant every word.
