Текст книги "Crush"

Автор книги: Nicole Williams

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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

TWELVE

That next Monday, I found myself in a predicament.

Not only because the past day and a half since I’d last seen Jude had gone by so agonizingly slowly that it didn’t seem fair, and I still had nineteen days to go, but because I was unprepared for the dress code at my new job.

I had a half hour before eight, and I knew the only thing worse than showing up for the first day under– or overdressed was being late. I shot a quick text off to India, praying she’d have some idea whether my position at Xavier Industries warranted a skirt and a blouse or was more of a pants-and-shirt kind of place.

As I waited for her reply, I hoped it would be more the cotton-and-wrinkle-free kind of workplace.

As I was hooking my bra into place, my phone chimed.

I frowned when I read her reply. ANTON’S AN OLD-SCHOOL, MAD MEN STYLE CHUMP. AS YOUR FRIEND, I HAVE TO ADVISE YOU TO DRESS UP. BUT AS HIS SISTER, I REALLY WANT YOU TO SHOW UP IN CUTOFFS AND SANDALS JUST TO PISS HIM OFF.

I sighed and pulled my black pencil skirt from the hanger. As I was stepping into it, my phone chimed with another message from India. GOOD LUCK. GIVE ’EM HELL.

I typed DITTO and hit send before pulling my white button-down blouse out of the closet, along with my black heels. Once I was changed, I hurried out of the apartment. Although, thanks to the tightness of the skirt, “hurrying” anywhere was a joke. The fastest I could go was a shuffle.

Once I was in my Mazda, it took me only ten minutes to get to the office. As I passed a familiar building, I realized my new job had yet another perk—my dance studio was close by. Time would be in short supply this summer, and if I wanted to keep dance a priority, I’d have to come up with some creative scheduling. Maybe I could squeeze in some mornings before work, or during a lunch break, or whenever I could carve out an hour or two after work. Thankfully, my summer class was an independent study, so as long as I clocked four hours of studio time every week, I’d pass the course.

After double-checking the address on the outside of the building with the address and suite number I had in my phone, I found a parking spot and headed to my first day on the job.

I was always nervous on a first day of anything, but this morning I was all butterflies. I would have thought I’d be more chill, since I kind of knew Anton, but that seemed to create the opposite effect. Maybe because he was India’s brother, and I didn’t want to put either of them in an awkward position if things didn’t work out, or maybe I was nervous because administrative assistant sounded like a pretty professional job for a college student.

As I was heading through the revolving door, my phone chimed. I slid it out of my purse. I stopped in the middle of the foyer so I could admire the picture. Jude was in his gym gear inside the locker room, extending a handful of roses. Red roses. The text read, sORRY I COULDN’T BE THERE TO HAND THESE TO YOU IN PERSON.

Just like that, the nerves were gone. One picture and a handful of words from Jude and I was calm as calm could be. Before heading toward the elevator, I texted back, I’M ONE LUCKY BITCH.

I was lucky for so many reasons. All of those reasons starting and ending with Jude.

Once inside the elevator, I couldn’t resist checking out the picture again. When I looked away, a few of the people around me were staring at me like they couldn’t possibly imagine why I was beaming on a Monday morning.

If only they knew.

The doors whooshed open on the fifth floor and I headed down the hall, still running on grins and giddiness. When I came to the door that read, XAVIER INDUSTRIES, I ran my hands down my skirt, rolled my shoulders back, and only once I was sure I looked what I felt like an admin assistant should did I open the door.

The office wasn’t huge, nor was it exceptionally welcoming, but it was how I envisioned a cubicle city–type office would appear. It smelled like copy machine, and there was even a rubber tree plant stuffed in the back corner where the watercooler stood. It looked like I was the first one here, because I didn’t see a single top of a head over the maze of cubicle walls, or any computers humming to life.

The lights were on, though, and someone had to have unlocked the door, so I couldn’t be the lone ranger at Xavier Industries. Taking a few more steps inside, I saw what I guessed would be my desk, situated outside a large enclosed office.

I didn’t know this because of the nameplate in front that read, LUCY LARSON; nor did it have anything to do with the nameplate on the door behind the desk that read, ANTON XAVIER. I knew it was my space because there were a dozen vases dotting the desk, brimming over with red roses.

That beam that was starting to hurt my smile muscles burst again as I reached for the white envelope on one of the arrangements. So maybe I could kind of be there in person. The note was signed with an, XXXO, Mr. Amazing.

Talk about a great way to start a first day at a new job.

Plus Mom and Dad had left a voice mail for me on the drive over, wishing me good luck and a great first day.

“I wish I could say I’d come up with the idea,” a voice sounded behind me.

I spun around, my mouth dropping. I could have been looking at a male India, only a couple inches taller, maybe a shade darker. I would have mistaken Anton and India for twins if I didn’t know Anton was a few years older.

“What idea?” I said, figuring that if he wasn’t going to start off with a common greeting, I didn’t need to either.

“The flowers,” Anton replied, gesturing at my desk. “It’s your first day and your boss didn’t think to order flowers to welcome you. Good thing someone else did.”

I decided not to mention that if Anton had thought to order flowers for me and Jude ever found out, Anton would be speaking an octave higher for the rest of his life.

“I wasn’t sure what the dress code was, so I hope I did all right,” I said, looking down at my outfit. In contrast, Anton had on a stylish navy suit and a maroon pencil tie. I was definitely underdressed if this was the standard.

“You couldn’t be more all right if I’d dressed you myself,” he replied with a smile.

“Oh,” I said, diverting my attention from him. He was staring at me in that unblinking way, not sexually, but in a searching way that made me uncomfortable. I didn’t want to be inspected. I wanted to clock in, make my money, and clock out. “That’s good.”

Anton came toward me and extended his hand. “Nice to finally meet you in person, Lucy Larson,” he said, his smile so white and perfect it didn’t seem real. “And if I had known you were even prettier in person than in a picture, I never would have hired you.”

I rolled my eyes. He was a flirt. Like brother, like sister.

“Why’s that,” I shot back, realizing my smart-ass self was going to fit in fine here, “because you’d no longer be in the office running for best-looking?”

Anton’s head tipped back as he laughed. His laugh, like his voice, was clear and almost musical. “India warned me you were a firecracker. For once, I’m glad she was right about something,” he said, his shoulders still shaking. “But no, that’s not the reason. At least, not the main reason. My dad keeps one rule, and one rule only, in business. He says all the rest you can bend along the way if need be, save for one.” He paused, studying me again. I watched his pupils, and never once did they wander south of my face.

“What’s that?” I said, since he was obviously not going to say any more until I inquired.

“The fifty/fifty rule when hiring an admin,” he said, with a shrug like it was common knowledge.

“This ought to be good.”

Anton slid a hand into his pants pocket. “Make sure she’s over fifty and fifty pounds overweight.”

“I didn’t realize I was coming to work for a chauvinist,” I said, followed by an exaggerated sigh. “Why’s this the number one rule?”

He mimicked my sigh. We’d spoken a few sentences, but I had a feeling I had met my match. “So there’s no temptation,” he said.

Flashing my left hand in front of him, I waited for him to take note of the ring on a certain important finger. “In case India forgot to mention it, I’m engaged. So there’ll be no temptation whatsoever.”

Anton studied the ring for another moment before he smiled broadly. “Forbidden fruit. Wanting what a man can’t have. I don’t think that worked out so well for Adam and the whole fall-of-man thing.” His smile pulled higher as he waited for me to reply. He was enjoying this banter.

Since it was my first day on the job, I decided to bite back what I wanted to say to him.

“Anytime you’re ready to tell me what I’m here to actually do . . .” I said, gesturing at my desk and computer. “I didn’t get all dressed up for nothing.”

“No.” Anton chuckled, coming around the side of my desk. “You certainly didn’t.” Continuing past the desk, he opened the door to his office and sauntered in. When he got to his desk, he glanced back at me where I hovered at the door. “Anytime you’re ready for me to tell you what you’re actually here to do . . .” He gestured at the chair in front of his desk and waited.

“I didn’t realize we were playing tag,” I muttered, just loud enough for him to hear.

He smiled and fired up his laptop.

Anton’s office was posh—if you were into the modern twist on 1960s cool. Like India had said, it was a scene pulled from Mad Men, right down to the fancy crystal bottles of liquor displayed on a shelf behind his desk. Like his little sister, Anton had expensive taste.

I took a seat in the chair across from him and waited.

“Do you know much about what we do here in this office?” he asked, his eyes fixed on his laptop, all business. He could flip the on and off mood switch as fast as I could.

Should I have done research? It was too late now.

“Nope.” Super. Real intelligent-sounding, Lucy.

“I love an honest woman,” he said, his eyes flicking to me. “And one who isn’t ashamed about it.”

From business to banter in two seconds’ time. Anton was going to keep me guessing. “And I love a man who gets to the point,” I said, “sometime today.”

Getting back to his laptop, he started typing. “Here’s the quick rundown on Xavier Industries’ White Plains branch,” he said, typing furiously. His fingers were almost a blur over that keyboard. “We’re a customer-support call center here. We have twenty employees and triage close to eight hundred calls a day.”

“A call center?” I was confused. “Xavier Industries is a board game development company, right?” I could have sworn that was what Indie said.

“That’s right, but developing, distributing, and selling the board games is only half the battle. The other half is keeping those retailers and customers happy.” His war with the keyboard came to an end. Punching one final key, he leaned back in his high-backed leather chair.

Thank the heavens I wasn’t majoring in business, because this made no sense to me. “Happy? Isn’t that the reason they’re buying one of the games? So they’ll be . . . happy?”

“Yes, happiness is definitely a desired side effect. However, humans as a species have this need to report or review or vent or share their opinion to someone who cares.” He waved his hands before folding them over his desk. “That’s what we’re here for.”

“To care?”

Anton looked at me like my confusion was cute. “To pretend to care.”

“Oh-kay,” I said, shifting in my seat. I understood why so many politicians came from business backgrounds. They’d been bullshitting their way to the top for decades. “And my job is to pretend to care?”

“No, you won’t be taking any of the customer calls. You’re working for me.” He leaned forward. “So your job is to enthusiastically care.”

The more he said, the farther down the rabbit hole I fell.

“Can you define ‘care’ in basic job duties?” I asked. “Like sharpening pencils, making copies, that sort of thing?”

Sliding a drawer of his desk open, Anton dropped a thick folder in front of me. “For starters, I’d like you to go through these call sheets and make note of how long each call lasted, along with how many minutes the caller had to wait on hold before reaching an associate.”

I gawked at the folder—it was larger than any college textbook I’d ever seen. “Is this supposed to take me all summer?”

That slow smile of Anton’s slid back into place. “I’ll give you until lunch.”

I was earning my pay here at XI.

I’d been sure I’d been on the receiving end of a good deal, but I realized by lunchtime that it was Anton who’d been on the better receiving end.

I didn’t know how I did it, or who’d slowed time down in order for me to get it done, but I was on my last sheet of that dictionary-size folder when Anton’s door whooshed open.

“Lunchtime,” he announced, sliding into his jacket that had just enough sheen to it for me to know it had cost a small fortune.

Glancing at the time on my computer, I felt my eyes bulge. It was almost one o’clock. “Oh, man. I’m sorry, Anton. I got so caught up in this project that I didn’t even realize what time it was,” I said, spinning in my chair to face him. “What do you normally get for lunch? I’ll run out and grab it right now.”

His eyebrows knitted together like he was insulted. “If India found out I’d reduced you, in any way, shape, or form, to a glorified coffee runner, she’d skin me and leave me in the woods for the bears.”

I capped my pen and dropped it back into the holder. “And if you ever give me another project like that and expect me to finish it before the year is up, I might just do the same to you.” I smiled sweetly.

“Have you talked to all your bosses like this?” he asked, leaning into my desk.

I raised an eyebrow. “Only the ones who deserved it.”

Shaking his head, Anton motioned for the door. “Come on. Time for lunch.”

“Huh?” Another brilliant gem from the mouth of Lucy Larson.

“Food. Sustenance. You. Me.” He motioned to the door again. “Now.”

Two things stopped me short from accepting Anton’s invitation right then. The first being Jude. And the second being Jude. He was about as territorial as I was, and I knew I wouldn’t have been okay with another woman taking him to lunch on a whim.

“I think I’ll stay and finish this up,” I lied. “I brought a snack with me.”

“Enough with the protesting already. You’ve put up a good fight, but it’s useless, because I always get what I want.” Anton’s eyes gleamed, while I felt my temper switch begging to be flipped. “Plus, it’s a company tradition passed down from my dad. Rule number two in the business world: You always take an employee out to lunch on their first day. That’s just good business.”

There’d been a lot of times in my life when I’d felt like an idiot. This being one of those times. Hoping Anton didn’t think I was acting like too much of a nut, I slid back into my heels and stood up.

“Far be it from me to stand in the way of time-honored traditions and good business,” I said, grabbing my purse before coming around the desk.

Anton had the door open and was waiting. Almost everyone in cubicle city was back from lunch, and just like this morning, whenever I’d looked up from my heap of paperwork, they were watching me.

Staring was perhaps the better word.

“I’ll have my cell if anyone needs to get hold of me,” Anton announced before closing the door behind us. “Don’t worry. They’ll get used to you in a few days.”

I followed him toward the elevator. “What will they get used to?” I hadn’t been aware I was something or someone who required getting used to.

“They’re a bit starstruck. It’s not every day you get to work in a call center with a girl who’s with one of the most talked-about NFL quarterbacks, and one who was just photographed nak—”

He paused as my eyes bulged before narrowing on him. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

Shit on a stick.

The whole office had seen that picture? Anton had seen that picture?

A few of those male stares made a bit more sense today. They’d been staring at me like they were seeing me naked because they had, in fact, seen me naked.

Shit.

“You saw it?” It wasn’t really a question, but I needed it confirmed.

Anton had the decency to look a little sheepish.

Just then the elevator doors opened.

Saved by the elevator.

“You want to talk about it?” he asked, trying, but failing, not to smirk.

“No,” I hissed, crossing my arms. I guess I hadn’t thought that picture would span the whole country. I should have known better.

“Don’t worry. I didn’t look,” he said, his voice soft. “I couldn’t stop the others from seeing it, but I didn’t. I’m sorry that happened.” His expression bled sincerity. The first I’d seen from Anton.

The anger rolled right off me. “Yeah. I’m sorry, too,” I said as the doors opened on the first floor.

Sensing I didn’t want to talk about it more, or finished talking about it himself, Anton waved at someone in passing. “There’s this great place right around the corner. Makes everything from scratch every morning. Soups, breads, sandwiches, that kind of thing.” He waited for me to go through the revolving door first. “Sound good?” he asked when he joined me out on the sidewalk.

“Sounds good.”

It turned out the café was no more than half a block from the office. Even though it was past the height of lunch hour, the place was still bustling. The scent of fresh bread and basil hit me full-on as soon as we made our way inside.

Anton weaved a path to the only open table, waving at a few of the waitresses behind the counter, who blushed almost immediately. As suspected, Anton was a flirt. A certified ladies’ man.

We’d barely taken our seats when one of the starry-eyed waitresses was dropping glasses of water in front of us. “Hey, Anton,” she said, brushing her hair behind her ear.

I waved my hand in greeting, but I was invisible.

“Hey, angel,” he replied. When he looked at her, you would have thought she’d just died and gone to heaven from the dreamy look on her face.

Just as quickly as she’d arrived, she left in the same fashion. Anton obviously rendered most girls speechless. Good things I wasn’t most girls.

“Angel?” I said, giving him an unimpressed look. “That’s the best you’ve got?”

He took a sip of his water, the amused expression of his settling on his face. “Are you questioning my game?” he said. “Because I’ve got more game than I know what to do with.”

“Says you and every other male in history,” I tossed back. “But for a man who claims to have mad game, that was weak. I think my sixth-grade boyfriend won me over with ‘Hey, angel.’”

“Well, Miss Know-it-all”—Anton leaned forward—“Angel happens to be her name.” An eyebrow peaked and he waited.

I had nothing. I didn’t know anything either. Obviously.

“So . . .” I said, taking a sip of water, “how ’bout this weather?”

Anton laughed, clearly more amused than insulted at my latest bout of know-it-all-itis.

“Why have you, India, and me not gotten together and verbally sparred the night away before?” he said. “We’ll have to remedy that.”

“It seems we already are,” I said, smiling my apology.

“Hey, Anton.” Same greeting and moon eyes, different waitress.

“Hi, honey,” he greeted, giving me a sideways glance. “As in your name, Honey. Would you mind taking our order?”

Honey didn’t go as stupefied as Angel had when Anton leveled her with those baby browns. “At your service,” she replied, biting her lip in a suggestive, anything-but-innocent way.

“Lucy”—Anton motioned at me—“you know what you want?”

“I’ll have the Caprese salad, please,” I said. Honey didn’t once look at me or from Anton as she scratched down my order. The restaurant staff had obviously been drinking the Anton water and was thirsty for more.

“Anton,” Honey said, her eyes lidding, “what would you like?”

I grabbed my glass and took another sip of water. This chick meant business. I doubt she would have objected if Anton told her to meet him in the men’s bathroom in five.

“What’s your soup of the day?” he asked, returning those flirty eyes.

“Tomato bisque.”

I never knew bisque could sound so lewd.

“Ooh, I’ll have that,” he said. “I’m living on the edge today.”

“Wild man,” I said, handing Honey my menu. “Watch out.”

“So, Lucy,” he said, “since my sister never shuts up about you, I feel like I already know you.”

I could only imagine what India had told him. In fact, I didn’t want to imagine.

“Okay, I’m going to take off the ‘boss’ hat and put on the ‘friend’ hat and ask you about something I probably shouldn’t . . .” He cleared his throat and leaned forward. “Tell me about your boyfriend—”

“Fiancé,” I clarified. “And India’s told you everything about me and nothing about Jude?” The girl loved Jude. Well, all the girls loved Jude, but India loved him in a platonic sort of way, not the make-me-moan kind of way.

“Here’s what I know of Jude from India. And these are her words, not mine,” he said, shifting in his seat. “He’s fine, has a nice ass, and can make you blush after four years together.”

“India.” I sighed. “All of those things happen to be true, but there’s a lot more to Jude than that.”

Anton nodded. “I would hope so,” he said. “What made you fall in love with him?”

This was not the conversation I was expecting to have with my boss on my first day, but expectations, in my opinion, were a wasted effort. Disappointment was at the end of every expectation.

“It wasn’t so much what made me fall in love with him,” I began, staring out the window. “It was more that I couldn’t not fall in love with him.”

“That whole, ‘the stars aligned and fate predestined it’ kind of thing?” he guessed, his smile telling me he thought he’d gotten it right. But he was wrong.

“No. More like we made the stars realign and fate had nothing to do with it.”

Before he could respond, my phone rang.

“Sorry,” I said, about to hit ignore when Anton gave me a nod.

“Take it,” he said. “You’re off the clock, and I’ve still got my ‘friend’ hat on.”

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll be quick.”

Anton nodded and waved me on.

“Hello,” I answered, twisting in my seat. “Is this Mr. Amazing?”

Jude’s low chuckle came through the phone. “You better believe it, Luce,” he said. “How’s your first day?”

“It’s going about ten times better now, thanks to this guy who sent me about a million roses.”

“A million red roses,” he said.

“Thank you. You really are pretty amazing, both in and out of the”—I substituted a throat clearing for the word I was going for—“room.”

“I’m so damn proud of you, Luce,” he said, over some yelling and grunting in the background. He must be taking a phone break during practice. “That’s one badass job you got yourself.”

“Wait. You’re proud now?” I said, thanking Angel with a nod when she dropped my salad in front of me. Anton thanked her with a wink, which sent her over the flustered edge. “When did this happen?”

“When I decided to stop being a selfish jackass,” Jude answered. “Would I prefer you to be here with me so I can crawl into bed with you every night? Hell, yeah. But if this is what you need to do, I don’t need to understand it to support you along the way.”

I went a little soft in the knees right then. Good thing I was sitting.

“Aren’t we turning into the mature one?” I replied, glancing over at Anton. He hadn’t taken a bite of his soup and was obviously waiting for me before digging in.

I encouraged him with a wave. Very gentlemanly of him, but there was no sense in his soup getting cold while I wrapped up my call with Jude.

“So what are you up to now?” Jude said. “You’re not going to get in trouble if the boss catches you on your phone, are you?”

“The boss already did catch me on the phone,” I answered, smiling at Anton. “But I think he’s all right with it, since he’s sitting across the table from me at lunch.”

Jude was silent on the other end—for so long, I had to check to make sure I hadn’t lost the call. “Jude?”

“You’re at lunch with him?” His voice was low, controlled.

Not good. “Yeah?”

“Alone?” His voice was still low, but quavered a little.

Not good at all. “Yeah?”

Jude exhaled sharply. “Does he know you’re engaged?”

His voice was making me squirm in my seat. Like I’d done something wrong.

“Yeah.”

He took a few long breaths before replying. “Let me talk to him.”

“Why?” I asked, knowing that was a bad idea from a mile off.

“Because maybe he needs a reminder that you are engaged to me,” he said. “And therefore off-limits to him.”

I glanced at Anton. He was still waiting patiently, oblivious to the guy on the other end of the phone who would gladly reach through the speaker and strangle him if it was possible. I scooted my chair back and lowered my voice, hoping Anton would take a clue and excuse himself for a bathroom break or something. “Jude,” I whispered, “even if he does or doesn’t know, accept, or care that I’m engaged. I. Know,” I said firmly. “I know I’m engaged, and that’s all you need to concern yourself with.” I shot Anton another look. It was obvious he was pretending to not be intrigued by my conversation.

“You know you’re engaged?” Jude said, snorting. “Then what are you doing agreeing to go on private lunch dates with your boss?”

He was getting fired up. So was I. The difference was that I chose to keep my fire to a smolder.

I never thought I’d be classified as one of the cool, calm, and collected people out there, but I was starting to surprise myself.

I unclenched my fists before replying. “Because I was hungry. Because he asked. Because it’s a company tradition to take new employees out to lunch. Because there’s nothing remotely intimate between us. Because I was sure you trusted and supported me enough to make my own wise choices. And”—surely there were about a hundred more reasons—“and because I was hungry.”

Anton cleared his throat. “Lucy,” he said, sliding out of his seat, “should I go?”

I shook my head.

“Yes,” Jude snapped, overhearing him. “Yes, he damn well should.”

“Jude,” I warned.

“Put him on the phone, Luce,” he said. “I need to talk to him.”

Anton stood up to go and I shook my head again, and pointed at his seat. I wasn’t going to let this argument between Jude and me be resolved by default. He needed to trust my discretion, my choices, and my decisions. He needed to trust me.

Anton sat back down hesitantly, looking as uncomfortable as a person could be.

“No.”

“Luce,” he replied.

“Jude,” I threw back. “No.”

He kind of sighed, kind of groaned, and was quiet again. I was familiar enough with his frustration to know he was rubbing the back of his neck now, while every inch of his face was creased. “I’m across the country, Luce. Completely helpless while you’re at lunch with your boss who’s probably some pretty guy in a suit who thinks that because all the girls before you have caved to his charms, you will, too.” I was glad he wasn’t here to see me, because a small smile parted my mouth. Jude had nailed it; Anton was a pretty guy in a suit. “What do you expect me to do, Luce?”

This was an easy answer. And next to impossible to deliver. “Trust me.”

Something short and quiet came from Jude’s end, but I didn’t catch it. Another few moments of nothing. I swear, half of this call had been in silence while one of us processed what the other was thinking. I suppose you could say we’d finally graduated from the Think Before You Speak Academy.

“Damn,” he said under his breath.

I totally got that response. “See why it was so hard for me?”

“Yeah. I’m starting to get why you turned into a crazy person back in the day,” he said, understating just what I’d become “back in the day.” Psychotic, rabid, shot-flames-from-my-nose lunatic would have been a more accurate description. “Okay, I’ll trust you. I will not trust him, or any other man who thinks it’s okay to take out an engaged woman alone on a lunch date. Not cool in my book.”

My smile wasn’t small any longer. I had Jude’s trust, even in a situation where he really didn’t want to extend it. “Is that some man rule I missed?”

“Man rule number two,” he said solemnly. “You don’t mess with another man’s woman. Ever.”

“And what’s rule number one?”

“Don’t mess with me.” From his tone alone, I knew that cocky half smile of his was in full bloom.

“Words to live by,” I said. “Although I think I’ve messed with you plenty.” In more ways than one.

“You, and only you, are the one exception to that rule, Luce.”

“Well, there’s an exception to every rule,” I said, realizing I was long past being rude, having been on the phone so long. “It’s been nice chatting, but I’ve got to get back to my—”

“Date.”

“Lunch,” I clarified. “I love you. Thank you for the call, the flowers, and the trust. I’ll give you a ring later tonight once Holly and little Jude are settled in.”

“Give Hol a hug for me. You’ve got the football for little Jude, right?”

“I will, and yes,” I answered.

“One more thing,” he said.

“Anything.”

“Put him on the phone,” he said, only partly teasing.

I groaned. “You can talk with him in person when you fly out, so I can monitor what you’re saying.”

“Ballbuster,” he muttered.

“Love you.”

“Love you, Luce.”

Ending the call, I gave Anton an embarrassed smile. “I’m sorry about that.”

He lifted his hand, waving like it was no big deal.

“No, really. I’m sorry.” My first day at work, and I’d just sparred with my fiancé on the phone for almost ten minutes at lunch. Not something that would guarantee me an employee-of-the-month plaque anytime in the near future.

“It was entertaining,” he said. “I don’t think I’ve seen that much drama since India forced me to watch the season finale of The Real World back when I was in middle school.”

I wasn’t sure if he’d intended this as a jab or as a joke, but it stung. It was none of Anton’s business, but I had to set the record straight. “Jude’s dramatic. I’m dramatic. Together we make a pretty big production.” Cutting into my Caprese salad, I took a bite. Food at last.

Anton finally dropped his spoon into his soup. A gentleman. Not exactly what I’d expected from a brother of India’s. “That sounds unhealthy.”

My brows came together. I wasn’t going to let a guy who thought ordering tomato bisque was living on the wild side tell me what was and wasn’t unhealthy.

“Maybe for you, but not for me.”

There. That was a way to roll up about an afternoon’s worth of explanations into one sentence.