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“No, it’ll be easier if he just works out of another office.”
“Razor, please don’t do that.”
“Right,” he said, looking at the vase on the kitchen bar. “Nice flowers.”
They’d come the week after everyone got back from Washington, which was also a week since she’d seen Monk. Even though they came from a florist, they looked more like he’d gone out and picked a bouquet of wildflowers himself.
“I’ll be over later,” she called after him.
“Come for dinner.”
“Don’t push it, Raze.”
He laughed and walked over to the trail.
AN HOUR LATER, Saylor, her mother, and the girls walked into her brother’s house when Ava opened the door.
“Where’s Razor?” Saylor asked an hour later when she still hadn’t seen her brother.
“He and Monk are downstairs. A truckload of new equipment arrived, and they’ve been setting it all up. I guess it’s taken over most of the basement.”
The girls had their noses buried in bridal magazines and didn’t seem to be paying attention, so Saylor took the opportunity to apologize to Ava.
“One, you’re forgiven, and two, it wasn’t me who was upset; it was your brother.”
“That jerk.”
“Yeah, that’s what I said when he told me what he said to you. Don’t get me wrong, I love your company, but it isn’t like I expect you to be over here all the time. You have a life of your own.”
“Thank you,” huffed Saylor, ready to go downstairs and slug her brother.
Instead, when she looked over, he and Monk were coming up the stairs.
“How’s flower-girl-dress buying going?” Razor asked, walking over and kissing Ava’s forehead.
“They want every one they see,” Saylor answered. “Ava, you really just need to choose for them, or they’ll drive you mad.”
“We don’t drive yet,” said Savannah, looking over her shoulder at her mother and sticking a playful tongue out at her.
“What do you think, Mr. Monk,” said Sierra, walking over to him with magazine in hand. He crouched down like he had when he said goodbye to Savannah a few days ago.
“You would look beautiful in any of these,” he said, pointing at something on the page. “But I think this one would look the very best.”
“That’s my favorite too,” Sierra said, flouncing back over to her sister.
“Let me see which one,” Savannah demanded. “That was my favorite,” she said when Sierra pointed. “I picked that one first.”
“You did not.”
“Yes, I did.”
“Girls,” Saylor scolded. “That’s enough.”
“Sorry, Mama,” they both said, hanging their heads. They took the magazine over to Ava.
“You should pick,” said Sierra.
“Show me the one Mr. Monk likes best.”
