Page 20 of Untroubled Heart

I gather my notebook and pen, not confident enough to join in their banter just yet.

Mason simply smirks at Steven before his eyes drift back to his computer screen. I truly don’t mean to look. Steven and I have shared access to Mason’s emails anyway, so it’s not like I’m snooping on anything confidential, but I’m certain the email on his screen isn’t for our eyes.

Clearly, a woman wanting to arrange a meeting with Mason to discuss a new line of building products wouldn’t look remiss if it weren’t for the fact that she was proposing an oral presentation that she can only accommodate on a Friday night. And that they meet at the restaurant they went to last time. I guess when he told me he didn’t fuck in the workplace, he was being literal. Good to know. In fact, this makes it even easier to remind me of my purpose here.

He’s your boss, Callie. Your gorgeous, off-limits boss.

Chapter ten

My fingers tap against the steering wheel as I wait for the light to change.

“Would you stop sighing? You’re so dramatic.”

My mouth drops open as I stare at my sister in the passenger seat. I’ve spent months searching for a house, and the whole time, I’ve been reluctant to ask her for help because she sees potential everywhere. Caleb, Lee, Tristan, my parents, and even my grandparents have all taken turns to come house hunting with me to no avail. I had to accept that it was time to pull out the big guns.

“I wasn’t sighing.”

“Yes, you were. What was wrong with the last place? I thought it had potential.” What a surprise. “It had already been renovated, and they did a good job. Neutral, classic.”

“It just didn’t feel like me,” I say, shifting into first gear as we turn into our building’s car park.

“What exactly are you looking for?”

“That feeling when you walk in and think, this is the one.” It’s something I’m certain I’ll know when I see it, whenever that may be.

“You’ve looked at like a hundred houses, and you’ve never felt that for any of them.”

I shake my head as I pull into my assigned parking spot.

“Maybe it’s not the house,” she mutters.

“What do you mean?” I ask, killing the engine and stepping out. I walk around the back of my F150 to Beth’s side, pulling her door open while she’s still arranging everything in her suitcase—I mean handbag.

“This thing you’re searching for—” she says, taking the hand I hold out for her. She carefully places one stiletto heel—that I have no idea how she balances on—on the footrail so she can step out. Her other foot dangles, searching for the ground. Even I, at five-eleven… and a half, have to jump a little getting out of the cab of this ute. It’s one of the many reasons Beth hates going anywhere in my work car.

“I’m not going to let you fall,” I deadpan.

She glares up at me like she’s annoyed she even needs the assistance. My sister is independent. She doesn’t claim to be an expert at everything, but she hates finding things she can’t immediately excel at. She also doesn’t see the way she stresses herself out by constantly trying to prove herself to everyone.

I turn around, offering my back for her to jump on, like when we were kids. Beth won’t be treated like a princess, but she’ll always accept queen treatment. Her arms come around my shoulders before I wrap my hands behind her knees and pull her from the car. I pause so she can push the door closed and then walk through the underground lot to the elevator that goes all the way to our floor.

“I’m stopping at the kitchen first. I’m starving.” I lower Beth to her feet as I hit the button for the second floor, and we ride up in silence, both scrolling through our phones, clearing emails as we go. I decline yet another invitation from Chantelle for a private meeting. I need to ask Steven to contact their office and switch us to a male consultant. I know I’ve cultivated the reputation of a playboy, but I mean it when I say I won’t cross those lines when it comes to my work. I don’t want to be seen as the unserious one here, and I’m getting kind of tired of being seen as nothing but the guy who can’t commit to anything but fun.

Beth steps out of the elevator first, stopping whenever someone has a question for her. I move around her, continuing to the kitchen, coming to an abrupt halt at the sight of Callie, standing by the fridge and smiling at Josh, one of our carpenters. She’s wearing a Two Hearts Homes polo shirt, and her brown hair is tied back in a low bun. Those little gold star charms she was wearing the first time I met her are braided through her hair.

“Stare a little harder, Mase,” Beth says, smacking the back of her hand against my stomach as she passes me.

“What?” I scoff. “Who’s staring?”

She lowers her voice as we move through the kitchen. “I know you pretty much flirt with everyone who has a heartbeat, but you never watch them; you never care where they are. You respond because they’re making themselves available.”

“I don’t want to make them feel bad. We don’t all have a bully kink, Beth.”

“Ew, don’t mention my name and kink in the same sentence.”

She has a point, though. I don’t watch women, not when I don’t already have their attention. Callie is the exact opposite of every other girl I meet—she’s not falling over her feet to impress me, giggling and sneaking any opportunity to touch my arm or my thigh.

If Callie had reciprocated my flirting the other week, I wouldn’t have hesitated to take her back to my place. But she didn’t. She couldn’t have been more uninterested. I watch her because I’m trying to figure her out. I guess rejection is a bitter pill for me to swallow. Stupid, since I could snap my fingers and have any woman in my bed or the back of my car right now. The fact that I haven’t even tried since the night I met Callie is something I’m actively trying to ignore.