Carlson
I glimpse up just in time to catch Gemma’s wide, self-satisfied smirk on the rearview mirror.
“So, did you hit that or what?”
Ignoring her, I carefully maneuver the SUV to the next lane. It’s early yet, so traffic isn’t too bad. After spending half the night getting acquainted with every delicious inch of Suzette, we were up at four this morning. She was dragging, her slumbering eyes giving up on her a few times. As much as I tried to persuade her to skip out on HC today, in the end guilt had her going in anyway.
Before we made it to the bedroom last night, she’d sent a quick text to her mother. I don’t believe in all that mumble jumble psychic shit, but Suzette seems to think it’s at least partially legit. She jokingly told me she and her ma have a safe word that she uses for her private times… whatever the hell that means.
A quick shower fuck later to rejuvenate her – hey, anything I could do to help – and we were hastening out the door. She didn’t even give me a kiss before she shot out of the car, muttering about being late. What’s up with that?
“Gemmy, drink your water.” A glance in the mirror has Hawkes holding out the half empty bottle in an attempt to distract her. “You need to hydrate before the flight.”
“There’s water on the plane.”
Hawkes sighs. “Why don’t you finish your coffee then?”
Not to be deterred, she rolls her eyes at her nagging fiancé. “Anyway, Carlson, I’d ask Suzy, but she’d probably have a blush attack. She’s kind of shy when it comes to men.”
She wasn’t shy with me last night.
“Hawkes has a point,” I say, returning my gaze to the road. “You should hydrate.”
“Oh, come on. Don’t tell me I busted out the karaoke machine for nothing.”
“I wouldn’t say it was for nothing. We got a good laugh out of it.”
Not at all offended, Gemma giggles. “I was pretty bad, wasn’t I?”
“I’m only happy Bull didn’t run off, completely traumatized.” I glimpse over again. “We might have to sign him up for PTSD therapy.”
At the sound of his name, the dog shifts from the comfort of Gemma’s lap.
“I thought you were amazing,” Hawkes interjects. How he manages that straight face while boldly lying, I don’t know. “Hot as hell, if you ask me.”
“That’s because you’re pussy-chained and whipped,” I counter on a snort and return my full attention to the road.
“Better than pussy-starved.”
Gemma snorts at that.
“Your id is rearing its ugly head again,” I warn. “Might want to tame that down in front of company.”
“Not this Freud bullshit again.” Sobering, his hard gaze scalds the back of my head. “Speaking of company, keep me posted on Marty’s progress. He’s stabilized and just started rehab, but he’s got a long way to go.” He pauses, and I don’t have to be Suzette’s ma to know what’s coming. “Have you thought about what we discussed?”
“Not happening, Hawkes.”
A curse. Long and colorful. “You’d flat out deny your duties? It’s your company too, Carlson. In fact, more yours than mine.”
I don’t have to think twice. “That can be modified.”
“I told you I’m not buying you out.”
“I’m sure there’s someone out there interested.”
“You can’t sell your shares,” Hawkes bites out through his teeth. “Not without my approval. And you’re not getting it.”
“Gemma,” I call, easing to the exit ramp to brake at the red light, and cut my gaze to the mirror where her wary eyes meet mine. “HC is yours. I’d like to see Hawkes deny you.”
She holds up her hands in a flash, palms out. “Leave me out of this.”
“Below market value,” I push on determinedly, partly to goad Hawkes, mostly because I’m just pissed at the circumstance. “It’ll be a steal.”
“I still can’t afford it.”
My eyes sway to her fiancé fuming next to her. They’re two halves of a whole and have been since they were kids. The word prenup isn’t in their dictionary. “You will soon enough.”
“I didn’t mean financially,” Gemma retorts. “I can only guess at the reasons behind your refusal, but please don’t put me in the middle of this, Carlson.”
Hawkes glares at me from the rear seat. “It’s your legacy, man. You can’t shun it. You’ve been ignoring it for far too long.”
“Ignoring it?” What the fuck? “I’m there every fucking day. Just because I don’t have an office doesn’t mean I’m not working.”
Gemma studies me, her gaze trying to dissect me from the outside in. “Is this because of Suzy?”
It’s my turn to scowl. Fucking ridiculous. “This has nothing to do with Suzette.”
“She wouldn’t care if you’re signing her paychecks, you know.”
“I know that.” Suzette thinks I work for Hawkes. His grunt man, with meaningless, menial tasks to occupy my days, but that doesn’t discourage her from spending time with me. “And I don’t sign her paychecks.”
“Then why don’t you want to be more involved with your own company?”
The obnoxious blare of a horn behind me lends me the excuse to disregard Gemma’s genuine concern.
Hawkes is speaking to Gemma in a low tone. I hope it’s to tell her about his grass skirt and to leave me the fuck alone.
The remainder of the short commute is in stark silence.
As soon as we arrive at the private airstrip I elbow out of the SUV. Hawkes isn’t far behind me after he sees to Gemma, who immediately corners one of the flight attendants she recognizes waiting to board. Gemma is yakking a mile a minute with the flight attendant, who’s nodding raptly at her every eager word. Excited feminine squeals ensue and Gemma is off wiggling a happy dance with Bull’s leash in one hand. The screwball dog seems to be jiggling with her.
I shake my head. My boy has his hands full with that one.
“Gemma won’t touch HC with a ten-foot pole.” Hawkes hefts one of the heavy designer logoed suitcases from the trunk and plops it on the ground, followed by Bull’s travel crate, then another case. “Not that way, so you can just forget it.”
A carryon joins the growing pile. They’re only supposed to be gone a week, but the missus likes to be prepared in case there’s a bikini emergency.
I say nothing as the baggage handlers rush over and begin carting the whole warehouse of crap away.
“I know it wasn’t what you wanted,” Hawkes continues, his gaze steady on me even though I refuse to look at him. “I talked to Marty this morning. He was in good spirits, but he’s officially stepping down. We don’t know if he’ll ever return or be the same again. You know HC like the back of your hand. You know how everything runs, from contract negotiations to scheduling to budgeting and everything in between. Ma once told me you’ve been a part of the company since you were too small to reach the phone and had to be propped on the receptionist’s lap.”
My back stiffens at the reminder of my mother and the company. “That was Jansen Construction, not HC, and it was a long time ago,” I cut in.
“And you were never able to let it go. Even when we became partners and you made it clear you didn’t want any part of it, you were never far away from the day-to-days. There’s a reason for that, man.” He waits until my wary gaze meets his. “JC. HC. It doesn’t matter what we call it. It’s in your blood.”
“That was Pops,” I remind him. My father wanted nothing more than for his only child to take over for him, even if it killed him. “JC was his ambition. Not mine.”
Hawkes sighs. “Look, I’m not asking you to step in on a permanent basis. I know that’s not part of the deal.” Glancing over, he briefly checks to make sure Gemma is where he left her before going on. “Hopefully, just for a few months until we find a replacement for Marty. HC cannot be without a COO for too long, and Sam is too green,” he says of the Director of Construction, “not familiar enough with the business side of things yet.”
“Baby!” Gemma’s hand beckons wildly, oozing exhilaration for the start of their paradise vacation. “Let’s go.”
“Give me a minute,” Hawkes calls back to her. He claps me on the shoulder. “Think about it. Really think about it. Three, four months. Six months, tops. I’ll even put it in writing.”
There’s a chance I might have a stroke if I think about it too much. I won’t commit one way or the other. Not yet. I nod towards the impatient woman thirty feet away. “Go to your girl, Hawkes, before she stomps over to kick my balls in for keeping you. Safe journey.”
“Look out for Marty while I’m gone, would you? He doesn’t have anyone.” With one last meaningful look, Hawkes finally leaves me be.
“See ya later, Carlson,” Gemma shouts and waves at me. “Tell Suzy I’ll call her for the scoop!”
I scowl at her. “Mind your own business, Warton.”
Gemma laughs all the way to the plane.
Suzette isn’t the type to gossip about men, I remind myself as I climb back into the car. Not that it’s a big deal, but I prefer to think what happened last night isn’t broadcasted or pried open for nosy scrutiny. It was between me and Suzette. It’s bad enough she had to report to her ma last night, for fuck’s sake. What’s next? Sage and crystals in the bedroom?
I shudder at the thought.
Wait… is there a next time? I’m assuming there is, but what if she wasn’t as into it as I thought.
No. She was into it. Suzette was all over it.
Still, there was that mad dash out of the car this morning like she couldn’t wait to get away.
Should I call her?
I might look like a pussy-whipped chump. Like Hawkes.
But if I don’t call her, she might think I wasn’t into it.
And Hawkes got his girl.
Shit. What would Gemma advise me to do?
I can hear her exasperated voice in my head. Call her, you big dope.
I’m gonna call her.
Later. Tonight. So I don’t look like a sappy ass fool panting after her.
Would tonight be too soon? Or too late?
Fuck. I hate this shit.
A guy is supposed to call after a night with his girl, right?
But she’s not my girl.
Goddamn motherfucker.
I’m gonna call her.
Lifting my phone from the dashboard, my thumb graze over the screen until her number appears. She didn’t personally give it to me, but since she and Gemma hung out so much, the latter thought I should have it.
I’ve never actually dialed her.
I shouldn’t call her. Not yet. It’s too soon. It might scare her off.
My panicked gaze flies to the dashboard screen as ringing saturates the interior of the car.
Calling Suzette Sun…
Oh fuck. I must have pressed the button. Talk about Freudian slip.
The buzzing ceases. “Hello?”
What do I say?
A grunt makes it out of my mouth.
“Carlson?”
“Yeah.” I clear the croak from my throat. “Hey.”
There’s a smile in her voice. “Hey back.”
“You, um… you busy?”
“Not really. Just going through some emails. Not a lot. Drinking my coffee. It’s dead here. Everyone is out. Everything go okay this morning at the airport?”
“Sure.” I stop there, not sure what else to offer. Normal conversations? I’ll have to read up on that shit. “They’re off to Hawaii.”
She makes a thoughtful sound. “So what do you do when Mr. Hawkes and Gemma are vacationing? Are you forced to take time off too?”
“I hang out at HC.”
A soft laugh. “Same as usual then. Do you get paid for hanging out at HC?”
“It’s my job.”
“Is it? So you’re like Mr. Hawkes’s driver, bodyguard, fiancée-sitter, and company watchdog?”
She’s teasing me, but I don’t know what kind of response wouldn’t skirt on suspicious territory. “It’s Friday.” Change the topic. That way I don’t have to answer any inquiries about my debatable job description. “What you got going tonight?”
“I’m supposed to go shopping with Kaia. My sister.” There’s regret in her voice. “Just to get her out of the house. She’s been a bit of a hermit lately.”
“The one you brought to the holiday party.”
“Yeah.” She sounds surprised I remember. “I guess we’re going to the mall or something. You want to join us?”
“Hell no. Not my thing,” I qualify, recognizing that might have come out too quickly and forcefully.
A hesitation, then, “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow morning?”
“Tomorrow?” Did I make plans with her last night for this weekend?
“Hector invited me and Kaia to the basketball match. You are going to be there, right?”
I am now.