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Brody stared at the endorsement contract splayed out on his desk. He hated contracts. The pages and pages of legal jargon made his head swim. As far as he could tell, a men’s designer suit company was offering him a ridiculous amount of money to be in their ad campaign. The fine print, however, meant nothing to him. Honor would have to sort through it when she arrived.
He glanced at the clock on his computer. Honor was late. Not that he cared, but it was unusual. She had a policy that fifteen minutes early was on time and on time was late. He went back to the contract. His eyes blurred. He yawned. Maybe he should have another cup of coffee.
Seconds later, Honor appeared in the doorway. “Hey. Sorry I’m late. I was on the phone with Tyler and couldn’t get rid of him. He’s hell-bent on you taking the Squire deal.” Tyler was Brody’s agent. He was always hell-bent when it came to money and his fifteen percent.
“Yeah, I’m just looking at the contract now,” Brody said. “It looks pretty good, even if I do have to dress up.”
“That little runt of a man needs to calm himself right down.”
“Tyler?”
“Yes. Who else would I be talking about?” Honor shook her head, obviously irritated with him.
He chuckled as he gathered the paperwork into a neat pile. Speaking of runts, Honor was one herself. She was barely five feet tall and probably a hundred pounds soaking wet. Tiny, bossy, and fierce, she had made than one man nearly cry during negotiations over his last endorsement contract. Not to mention her sassy mouth. After a few drinks, her potty mouth caused even the most jaded of men to blush. Including Brody.
“What a morning.” Honor tossed her leather jacket on the back of a chair. “Right as I went through a red light, I heard a siren. Damn it to hell if it wasn’t Homer the town cop giving me a big fat ticket.”
“His name’s not Homer.” Honestly, Homer? Where does she get this stuff?
“It should be,” she said.
“You realize that’s only two letters off from your name,” he said.
She crossed her arms and glared at him. “Not the point.”
He laughed, conditioned to her impatience. Honor had been with him for five years. She was only twenty-two when she first came to work for him. Wet around the ears like a puppy—a wickedly smart puppy. The brain of an Australian Shepard in a Pomeranian body.
“Brody, it’s not funny. My insurance rates are already high enough. Seriously, does that guy do anything but sit at the one bloody stoplight stuffing his chipmunk face with those globs of fat and sugar?”
“You mean donuts?”
“Yes. What else would I mean.” She let out a long sigh. “It’s not like anyone was coming the other way. This is Cliffside Bay, for Christ’s sake. No one drives their cars before ten a.m. here unless they’re out for the early bird special at the diner.”
He fastened a clip on the paperwork and pushed it across the desk. “You need to be more careful. You’ll be sorry if you take out a sweet little old lady crossing street.”
“That’s ridiculous. I’m a fabulous driver.”
“Then why are your insurance rates so high?” he asked.
She ignored that question. “I can multitask like a boss.”
This was true. Honor could manage about fifteen things at once, and never hesitated to put him in his place. She was a little hard to manage most days, but she always had his back. She was the little sister he might not have wanted but showed up to make his life hell anyway. Truth was, he loved the little pain in the rear more than he could say. He would trust her with his life. Like Flora, she was family.
“So, is this all right?” he asked, indicating the contract.
“Yes. Of course. They succumbed to all of my demands.”
“As in?”
“To pay you what you’re worth, for one.”
“I’m not really worth that much—as a model anyway. Remember how many takes we had to do last spring for the car commercial?”
“Those people were idiots. Totally not your fault,” she said.
According to Honor. He was certain the director hadn’t felt the same way.
“Trust me, this is a good deal. Tyler’s a little piss ant, but he negotiated one hell of a deal on this one. Honestly, I don’t think it’s fair that one man should be so talented and good looking all at once. These endorsements are rolling in so fast it’s like taking candy from a baby. This one you could do in your sleep. Slap on a suit and stand in front of a camera, for what, like half a day?”
“Where do I sign?” Honor’s assessment of his appearance was highly exaggerated. But who was he to look away from easy money?
She grabbed the contract, turned to the back page, and tapped the signature line. “Sign here.”
Honor plopped another pile of folders in front of him. “Speaking of which, I have a few other items for you to sign. And don’t give me that look.”
“What look?” He squinted up at her. “Speaking of looks—you look a little rough this morning. Everything all right?” Her light brown eyes were bloodshot and her usually perfectly coiffed long blond hair was instead tied on top of her head in a messy twist. She wore no makeup, other than some lip gloss on her pouty lips, which made her look about eighteen instead of twenty-seven.
“Don’t talk so loud,” she said. “I have a terrible headache.”
“I knew it. Out late?”
She let out a long, tortured sigh. “Violet and I made the mistake of going into The Oar after we had a nice, quiet dinner at Angelou’s. Instead of going home and getting our beauty sleep, we decided it was a brilliant idea to go out for just one drink. It was her birthday, and she’s feeling kind of down since that asshole she was dating decided to leave town in the middle of the freaking night. He ghosted her! Can you believe anyone would ghost Violet? She looks like a Victoria Secret model, and she’s so perfect, you know, saving the earth and everything.”
Violet Ellis owned a boutique in town that sold products made from refurbished items: purses out of old tires, bracelets out of typewriter keys, baskets out of soda caps. In addition, she headed up the committee to preserve the town’s original buildings, as well as ensuring the city ordinance that kept commercial chains out of Cliffside Bay stayed intact. Cliffside Bay had their own coffee shop and didn’t need Starbucks. They had a bookstore and a dance studio and The Oar. They didn’t need Amazon or Arthur Murray or Hard Rock, thank you very much.
“Doesn’t she have a little boy?” Brody asked.
“Yeah, Dakota. He’s two. Cutest little guy ever. Violet’s mom’s in town, so she took care of him so we could go out.”
“Where’s the dad?”
“Gone,” said Honor. “Like most men.”
Honor’s father had left her and her mother when she was just a baby. It didn’t take too much to connect the dots. Honor didn’t trust men, and she made damn sure she kept them at arm’s length so she wouldn’t get hurt.
“So, one drink led to another, and pretty soon it was closing time, and Zane offered to drive us home,” Honor said.
“That was nice of him,” Brody said. Not surprising. Zane was the type to walk old ladies across the street and make sure drunk girls got home safely.
“Especially since Violet was puking out his truck window for most of it.”
“Oh, God, poor Zane.”
“I know. He’s so sweet. And so bartenderish.” She flashed a sheepish smile.
“You mean because everyone tells him their problems?” Brody asked.
“Exactly. I felt kinda bad for him,” she said.
He cocked his head to the side. Honor never felt bad about anything. Interesting.
“Half the women in town are in love with him and I swear it’s like he’s totally oblivious.” She plopped on the couch and took her makeup bag from her purse. “Violet thinks he’s gay.”
“Zane’s not gay. What gave her that idea?”
She looked at him over her compact and rubbed her lips together. “Because he lives like a monk. It’s weird to have that many women hitting on you and not sleep with one of them at some point.”
“He’s not the type to sleep around. Even before Natalie called off their wedding, he wasn’t the type. Women used to throw themselves at him in college.”
Honor went back to dabbing her perfect skin with makeup. “Well, that’s why Violet thinks he’s gay. No one can go without sex for that long. And, for all that’s holy, he needs to move on.”
“It’s not that easy after you’ve been hurt,” he said.
“Good riddance if you ask me. It’s better he knew before he married her than after.”
“I agree.” Zane’s fiancée, Natalie, had been cheating on him. Days before the wedding, her best friend had told Zane the truth.
“Can you imagine if he’d married her?” Honor asked. “Half of the bar would be hers right now thanks to California law. Which is why I’m never getting married.”
“Not everything’s about money,” he said.
“It is when you grew up in foster care.” Honor’s mother had succumbed to drug addiction, leaving her daughter at the mercy of the foster care system.
“You stay away from Zane. All he needs is you messing with his head.”
She glared at him. “I’m offended. Seriously? I’m not that bad.”
“Honor Sullivan, you wreck any man you get involved with. I love you, but it’s the truth.”
“It’s not my fault they get all needy and clingy.” She paused as she picked lint from her sweater. “Anyway, I’m not the least bit interested in Zane Shaw. I’ve known him as long as I’ve known you. If there were any interest in either of our parts, it would’ve happened by now.”
“I disagree.”
“Why?” Honor asked.
“Because one of the rules of the Dogs is that we don’t sleep with anyone in the circle of friends.”
“What? That’s ridiculous. Who else would you sleep with?” Honor asked.
He sighed. “There are hundreds of other choices pretty much anytime we go out.”
“Not in this town. Unless you’re interested in someone over the age of eighty,” she said.
He laughed. “Good point. But San Francisco isn’t that far away. Look at Kyle—he never has much trouble finding a woman to take home or otherwise.”
“Yeah, well, that’s Kyle. Not exactly discerning, if you know what I mean.”
“Unfortunately, I do.” Kyle was a womanizer. No two ways about it. Brody and the other Dogs were worried he was going to catch something. Or get someone pregnant. “What’s weird is that he was a complete nerd in college. Glasses. Skinny. Studied science.”
“I can’t imagine it now.”
“CrossFit and a personal shopper at Nordstrom do wonders,” Brody said.
“Jackson texted me this morning. He’s on his way up today with the rest of his stuff and wants to store some of it in my garage. He’s going to stay at his dad’s place until he can buy a house.” Honor rolled her eyes and crossed her legs. “And Miss Priss will not be coming with him. You tell me what that means.”
Miss Priss was Honor’s nickname for Jackson’s girlfriend, Sharon. “You think they’re breaking up?”
“I hope so, but I’m worried he’s going to propose.” Honor said. “Sharon’s never going to move here. She’s a city girl, plus if Jackson thinks she will ever give up her career for him, he’s sadly mistaken. It’s going to be Zane and Natalie all over again.”
“Is it hard to always be the smartest person in the room?” Such a know-it-all.
She blinked her round eyes and nodded her head with great solemnity. “The struggle’s real.”
Honor was most likely correct about Sharon. Jackson had lost the love of his life, Maggie, when he was only eighteen. Sharon was the first woman he’d dated seriously since Brody met him twelve years ago when they were Freshmen at USC. Back then, it had taken until the second semester before Jackson talked about losing Maggie. Even now, Jackson rarely mentioned her. However, Zane, who had grown up with the childhood sweethearts, believed Jackson had never fully recovered from her death.
Brody had major reservations about Sharon. She was too put together, too studied in the art of presentation, like an athlete with physical prowess but no heart for the game or their team. Not to mention that Sharon didn’t want to leave the city and her research job. Jackson, as he’d planned all his life, was about to move back to Cliffside Bay and join his father’s medical practice.
Brody had to put aside his worries about Jackson for now and tell Honor about Flora’s diagnosis. He couldn’t put it off any longer.
“When you’re done grooming yourself, I have something I need to talk to you about.”
She brushed her cheeks with blush. “Okay. Sorry. What’s up?”
“I have some bad news.”
“Oh crap.” She put down her compact. “What is it?”
“Flora has a brain tumor.”
Honor dropped the blush container. It fell to the floor and broke into two. “A brain tumor?”
“Doc Waller says it’s not the super bad kind. She’s going to need surgery and radiation, but no chemo.” He swallowed, watching Honor closely. After her mother had disappeared when Honor was six years old, she had grown up in foster care. In the five years that Honor had been with him, Flora was the closest thing she’d ever had to a mother. “I don’t want you to freak out. She’s going to be fine.”
“Are you sure?” Her round eyes leaked tears. The mascara she’d just applied ran down her face in black streaks. “I mean, how do you know?”
“Because the statistics tell us she will be.”
“Right. The odds are good. It’s going to be fine.” She wiped her eyes with a tissue. “I’m being ridiculous.”
For a second, he imagined her as a little girl, hoping for a family that would adopt her. That family had never come. Until his.
Flora meant so much to all of them. But she was going to be fine. She had to be.