Blaire

Jerking the curtains back and swinging the sliding glass door open, my lungs fill with wonderful, salty air. The sea a few stories below sparkles in the sunlight. The sandy beaches spattered with sunbathers and kids building castles. I’m reminded of summers at Lake Michigan with my parents and brothers years ago. Lance would be reading a book, Walker creating a track for various toy cars he’d made my mom pack, and Machlan holding a drink in one hand and chasing girls or birds, depending on his age.

No matter how much I really don’t want to be here, I can’t help but be a little happy they at least picked a beach. It was undoubtedly Sienna’s decision. Walker’s girlfriend grew up here and as I look at the scenery below, I have no idea why she would ever want to leave.

With a last lungful of air, I head back into the little condo that my three infuriating, difficult, ornery brothers rented. In all their macho of practically ordering me here, they couldn’t find the guts to tell me themselves. They left that task to our beautiful little Nana.

Smiling to myself, I head back inside and flop on the sofa. There are seashells decorating the place and soft pinks and sea greens. I suppose it’s relaxing to some, but it makes me want to start stripping wallpaper. In lieu of that, I eye my briefcase sitting by the bedroom door across the living room and wonder if it’s too early in this little getaway to start working.

As if he knew I was about to grab my client files, my phone rings and Walker’s name appears on the screen. I pick it up. “Hello?”

“Did ya make it?” Walker’s voice is gruff on the other side. “I told ya to call when ya landed, Blaire.”

“Yes, I made it. This is not the first time I’ve taken a trip.”

“Of course not. Just the first time in a decade.”

“Why do you really care?” I ask for the millionth time. “I’m just going to sit here and dwell on how far behind I’m falling at work.”

“I care because I heard you go batshit crazy on a man through the phone the other day. And because you were telling me you were afraid your assistant was going to quit with the workload your office has. I know you feel all fancy and shit in that corner office in the city, but fuck, Blaire. You can’t live to work.”

He’s right. Of course, he’s right. But that doesn’t mean he’s … right.

“You’re wrong,” I sigh, rolling my eyes even though he can’t see me. “I absolutely can live to work. I find it fulfilling.”

“Whatever. How’s Georgia? Sienna said it’s nice there this time of year.”

Glancing out the door, I shrug. “I can’t imagine it ever not being nice here. I’ll never understand why she moved to Illinois.”

“You have met me, you know.”

“My point remains.” Pulling my legs up under me, I rest my head against the pillows. “Sienna made you a sap.”

“I’m not a fucking sap,” he cuts back. “I’m just saying. Been thinking a lot lately …”

The way his voice trails off hits me right in the heart. My face falls and I fight the urge to lecture him, to mother him in some way. This happens every summer, as soon as the days turn warm. I think all my siblings start to think of our parents and their accident and it makes us all a little different, just in our own separate ways. But Walker has Sienna now. As much as I wasn’t sure I’d like her with her silver spoon upbringing, I do. A lot.

“Can I ask a favor of you? Well, not for me, but for Sienna?” Walker asks.

“Sure.”

“Can you meet up with one of her brothers and pick up some paperwork or some shit?” he grumbles. The sound of metal crashing onto a hard surface ricochets through the line. “Fuck!”

“What are you doing?” I laugh.

“Peck! Come finish this before I stick a fucking wrench in it!” The line gets muffled before he comes back. “I was trying to take an oil filter off a tractor, but it’s stuck. Peck will mess with it while I’m on the phone and then I’ll go finish it, because God knows he won’t.”

“Cut him some slack, Walker,” I say through a laugh. “He tries to help you, but you knew what you were getting when you hired him.”

He chuckles as the sound of water in the background trickles through the phone. “Anyway, can you do that?”

“Do what?” I ask.

“Meet with one of Sienna’s brothers?”

Something about the way he says ‘brothers’ takes me back to the man at the airport today. He was devilishly handsome in his three-piece suit, a Rolex strapped around a thick, muscled wrist. He spoke well and seemed educated, which were bonus points to his light-colored hair and jade eyes. The problem? I see men with that same air about them, the controlled, alpha quality, every day and we don’t mesh well.

“I’m not sure what my schedule looks like,” I say for the second time today.

“You don’t have a fucking schedule. I made your schedule.”

“I’ll happily refund your money and come home.”

“The hell you will,” he chuckles. “It won’t kill you to do her this one favor.”

“For what? So, you can get laid?”

“I’ll get laid regardless …”

“Ew!” I say, getting to my feet. “How did we get here? I don’t want to talk about this.”

“It’s vacation. Weird feeling, huh?”

Moseying across the seafoam carpeting, I gaze across the water. Families are holding hands, letting the waves rock against them. I wish I could do that—just throw all caution to the wind and let my guard down. But, I can’t.

“I’ll text you the address, okay?” Walker asks.

“Fine. But tell Sienna she owes me blueberry muffins when you pick me up from the airport.”

“Will do. Talk to you soon, Blaire.”

“Bye.”

The line goes dead as he shouts at our cousin again. Tossing the phone to the sofa, I stretch my arms leisurely overhead. For once, I don’t feel the weight of the world on my shoulders, don’t have to look over my shoulder for a colleague or client. It’s weird and I’m not sure how I’ll manage this for four days.