IT’S THE SAME CRUNCH of gravel. The same parking spot. The same hour in the morning, more or less, that I’ve pulled into Crank to start the day every time since I’ve come by to pay off Daisy.
The thought of that night widens my grin as I pull into the spot to the left of the front door and kill the engine. Walker is in the lobby, working at the desk, and doesn’t look up.
He’s wearing a grey t-shirt and navy baseball cap as he sits at the desk. Instead of flicking a pen between two fingers impatiently, as is his custom, he sits with his face cupped in his hand. Every now and then he writes something down before resuming his position staring at the screen.
I sit and watch. The longer I do, the more all the stress about what to do and where to go fizzles away. Sitting in the warm sun, wearing ripped jeans and an old Arrows t-shirt, the smell of grease permeating the air, I can’t believe I feel happy. Unrushed. Okay with the way things are right now.
It’s not something I feel a lot. There’s always a need to go, do, find, create, discover . . . keep up. My siblings conquer new parts of the world every day, it seems, whether it’s making business deals, saving people’s lives, or having babies. Even Camilla has bought into the madness by settling down with Dominic and helping chair events alongside our mother. Me? I can’t keep up. Hell, I can’t even join the fray because I don’t know where my starting point is, but I can’t deny that I don’t feel compelled to get on a plane and start fresh. Yet.
Grabbing my phone that fell onto the floorboard, I swipe it on and go to the texts app. A smile tickles my lips as I open the top message and read through the exchange with Walker from last night.
WALKER: Hey.
ME: Hi.
WALKER: Just making sure you made it home.
ME: Well, if I hadn’t, the murderer that abducted me would’ve had a huge head start. LOL I got home hours ago.
WALKER: Yeah. Good. Glad you made it.
ME: Admit it. You wanted to say hi. ;)
WALKER: You’re impossible.
ME: Impossibly right. Ha. So, what are you doing?
WALKER: Thinking about flooring options.
ME: At eleven at night?
WALKER: Does eleven in the morning sound more reasonable? I don’t see the difference.
ME: I like a good hardwood, if you’re asking my opinion. Nothing too dark because it shows all the dirt. If hardwood is out, do tile but not in the living room because that’s just not cozy. I guess carpet in there or if it’s a bedroom. Nothing too thick or light colored.
WALKER: Wow. Okay.
ME: You asked.
WALKER: I didn’t, actually.
ME: No, you did. You always ask without asking. It’s part of your charm, I’m beginning to see.
WALKER: No one has ever said I’m charming.
ME: I didn’t either. ;)
WALKER: Go back to doing what you were doing. I’m going to bed. You exhaust me.
ME: Must’ve been all those dirty thoughts you’ve been thinking about me all evening.
WALKER: Maybe.
ME: See? That’s a yes.
WALKER: I had fun with you today.
ME: I had fun playing in your treehouse.
WALKER: I’m not about to touch that. See you tomorrow, Slugger.
ME: Night.
Giggling out loud, I can’t remember feeling this dopey over a boy since high school. Jake McGowan was the love of my life at fifteen and when he’d slip me a folded note between biology and algebra, this is how I would feel. Giddy.
“What’s wrong with me?” I sigh. Grabbing my purse, I turn to leave the car when I look up and melt right back down into the seat.
Walker is looking at me, a shy smile gracing his handsome face. I wonder how long he’s been watching me and what stupid faces I made and how fast I can get in the building to see him.
I’m out of the car and almost to the door when my phone rings in my hand. When I look down, it’s my brother, Graham. It takes all of three seconds to know I have to answer it. Graham never calls unless it’s important.
“Hey,” I say, waving at Walker through the door so he knows why I didn’t come in, then stepping off to the side. “What’s up?”
“Good morning to you too.”
“I’m sorry. Good morning, G,” I say as sweetly as I can muster. “How are you, big brother? Are things well at the homestead?”
“Homestead? What has Illinois done to you?” he chuckles.
“More than you want to know.”
The sound of his chair rolling around the floor of his office can be heard in the background. “Noted. What’s the plan? Camilla said you were wrapping up things there soon.”
“Delaney is getting the last of her stuff out of the house today. She finished her last project a couple of days ago, so it’s just me in charge. Does that scare you?”
“A little.” He pauses just like our father does before he changes the subject. “What’s happening with you? Are you coming back to Savannah?”
It’s a loaded question. I can hear the follow-ups now if I answer it truthfully and I don’t want to get into all of that today, standing outside of Crank.
“I’m not sure.”
“What are you not sure about?” he asks.
“I might stay up here for a little while, actually.”
“For what?” He says it like it’s the most ridiculous thing anyone has ever said.
“Because I want to.”
“Well, Dad and I were talking . . .” He clears his throat. “What would you think about coming home and getting your feet wet at Landry Holdings?”
The question stuns me so much I can’t move. “What?”
“I know it sounds a little random—”
“A little random?” I laugh. “You won’t even free up enough of my trust fund to let me start my own real business doing what I know. Yet you are wanting me to come work with you?”
“You’ve done really well at managing things up there with what little you had to go on. Dad and I were going over your numbers and were impressed with your business aptitude, quite frankly.”
“Whoa, wait up. Did you just say I impressed you?”
“Don’t let it go to your head, Sienna.”
“Say it again.”
“Sienna,” he grumbles.
“Say it again,” I insist.
“Your numbers were strong. The profit was lagging, but that’s typical for a small business not yet off the ground. You budgeted very, very well, had interesting marketing concepts. I really think, as dumb of an idea as this design company was to start with, you could build something out of it had you not located it in a soybean field.”
My cheeks ache from smiling so big at Graham’s compliment, something that doesn’t happen often. If ever. “G, I don’t know what to say.”
“Just think about it. I really think you could be an asset around here and you know how I like Landry’s to be involved in Landry businesses. I think it sets a good example, keeps us strong.”
“I . . . Wow. What a start to the day,” I laugh. “I’m . . . I don’t know what to say. Yeah, I’ll think about it. When do you need to know?”
“You’re always welcome here, obviously. But we’re expanding the Operations Division right now with Landry Security booming. Ford has his hands full over there. I’d essentially like you on board when we go live with the new changes there. I expect that to happen in the next couple of weeks.”
“You do know I know nothing traditionally about business, right? Or security. Or . . . anything.”
“I do. But you learn fast and if what you were able to manage on a baby scale holds true, in five, maybe ten years, you could be doing a lot of things. Guess you listened to all those business talks at the dinner table growing up after all.”
“Those were so boring,” I chuckle.
“Hey, I have to go. The babies have a doctor’s appointment this morning and I don’t miss those for anyone.”
“How are they? How’s Mallory?”
“Everyone’s good. Everything is really, really good.”
“Tell Mallory I said hi and I miss her,” I say, wishing I was there to snuggle with Graham’s offspring. “Kiss the babies.”
“Will do. Let me know what you decide as soon as you do, okay?”
“I will. Bye, G.”
“Bye.”
Laughing out loud as I shove the phone into my purse, I consider if that conversation just happened. Me? Working at Landry Security on invitation? I’ve quite possibly never felt so proud in my life. Getting kudos from Graham, the essential Chief Executive Officer of our family, is harder to get than from my parents. From any professor I ever had. From any client.
I feel stupid because I know I’m beaming, but I can’t help it. It’s not just because of Graham either; it’s because maybe the struggle I felt with the first year in business wasn’t a bad thing. Maybe it meant we were making it, that we were battling through better than I expected and I just couldn’t see it.
“Hey.”
I jump at the voice behind me, spinning around to see Walker’s face poking out from around the door. He takes in the look on my face and relaxes when he realizes I’m fine.
“Sorry,” I tell him. “That was my brother.”
“Don’t you have like six of them?” he asks, holding the door open.
“No, four,” I say, entering the lobby. “That was Graham. He offered me a job.” I turn to face him, but his back is already to me as he rounds the corner of the desk. “It’s kind of a big deal for Graham to think you’re capable.”
“Does he not know you?” There’s no tease in his tone, no levity. No grin waiting to be cracked either. Just a blank question that he waits for me to respond to.
“Graham’s hard core,” I explain. “He was saying he went over the stuff from my design business and was impressed.”
Walker continues to wait, as if there’s more. Some bomb to drop. Something else to explain my exuberance.
“It made me feel good.” That’s the best I can do to make my point known without him knowing my brother. I go to the back and put my purse into the cabinet, waiting for him to say something.
He clicks around on the computer before clearing his throat. “Are you going to take it?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m doing. I just think it’s cool that he thought enough of me to ask me to work for him.”
“Well, I thought enough of you already to let you work for me.” He looks at me through his lashes. “Doesn’t that count for anything?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” I say, letting my hand drop to his thigh. “What would you like me to do today?”
“That’s a loaded question,” he chuckles. “First thing, before I get another call and have to deal with it,” he says, palming the back of my thigh with his hand, “is something really dumb, but I’d like to know.”
“What?”
He twists his lips together, trying to hide his almost embarrassment. “What’s your last name? I don’t even know. It occurred to me this morning.”
Scooting closer to him so that my torso is lined up with his, I try to concentrate on his words and not the way his fingers are deliciously close to my vagina.
“Landry,” I breathe, rolling my hips as his fingers press into the denim of my jeans.
“Well, Miss Landry,” he husks, his hand moving north, “it’s a pleasure to meet you officially.”
“Didn’t we meet officially in the shop the other night?” I giggle.
“Nah, that was just us fucking.”
Swatting his shoulder, I take a step back and out of his reach. I have to. Otherwise, I’m going to have to get out of these jeans and pull him into the shop bay with me again. “I love how eloquent you are, Mr. Gibson.”
Rolling his eyes, he picks up a pen and twirls it between his fingers.
“Hey,” I say, grabbing a rag and wiping down the edge of the desk. “I saw on the news this morning there’s going to be a meteor shower tonight. Did you see that?”
“Nope.”
“It was the top story.”
“I don’t watch the news. It’s all bullshit.”
“Then how do you know what’s happening in the world?”
“Peck.”
“Isn’t he full of bullshit too? I don’t understand your logic.”
This gets a laugh out of Walker. He leans back in his chair, his eyes sparkling. “We need to get a few things straight before this day goes on any further.”
Dropping the rag, I circle the desk and plop on top of it. Invoices and papers scatter, a pen rolls off the desk and hits the floor.
“A little respect for the workplace, why don’t you?” he asks, wrapping his arms around me and locking them behind my waist. He sits in front of me, nestled between my knees, and lets me take off his hat.
My fingers run through the silky strands of his hair as I breathe him in. “Don’t pretend you know what was where on here anyway.”
“Maybe I did.”
“Whatever,” I say.
“I sure as fuck know what’s on here now.”
He tilts his head back, asking without asking for me to kiss him. So I do. He cups my ass cheeks in his hands, scooting me closer towards him as he takes over the kiss.
Despite my insistence, he moves us slowly against one another, the kiss long and leisurely. He takes his time, his tongue parting my lips in the slowest, most delicious way. He nibbles my lip, refusing to let me do anything back but lap up his attention and bask in the glow of being at the receiving end of his attention.
“Walker,” I breathe, resting my forehead against his.
His breathing matches mine breath-for-breath as he pulls me into a straight-up hug. My head falls onto his shoulder, his heartbeat strumming steadily if not maybe a touch elevated. He’s warm and strong and I close my eyes, wishing for the first time ever that the world would stop spinning and end with me right here, right now.
But it doesn’t.