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“Like throwing everything into garbage bags and storing it in the garage?” Neil asked.
Jack feigned laughter. “The house is a shrine. It’s time we moved on.” They all needed to move on. It was the best thing for all of them. “And Sterling will be the one to suggest how things should be stored. I’m just sitting back and cutting the check.” And fucking her into oblivion. How could he forget the best part? But it would also be nice to not come home to an empty house.
“Look at you all adult-y,” Cole said, rolling his eyes.
He looked up from the last contract he had to sign. “I’m an adult.” Jack was sick and tired of always being considered less of a Madewood because he took off. “I just didn’t follow the perfectly laid out plan the two of you did.” Different was good. He was more than just tattoos and gossip magazine articles. And he had Sterling to thank for that realization.
“I’m all done.” Jack righted the pages of the contracts and placed them in a pile in front of Neil.
“Thanks.” Neil gathered them up and slid them back into the manila envelope. “I’m off to Carmel to get Finn’s signature.” He turned slightly to stand, but hesitated.
Jack’s stomach tightened. Something bad was about to go down.
Neil rested his palm on the bar. “Jack, it’s good that you’re focused, but I just…” He glanced over to the foyer where Devon and the female staff members were laughing. “We just can’t survive a scandal right now, and with Sterling—”
He looked between both brothers. He was referring to Jack’s indiscretion overshadowing the death of his mother. Instead of paying tribute to a wonderful woman, they focused on Jack missing his mother’s passing because he was too busy getting laid. But that would never happen again. Jack would make sure of it.
“What I do with Sterling is none of your business.”
If looks could kill, Jack would be six feet under. Neil didn’t like to be questioned. He didn’t like to be called out. Usually, Jack would have loved to engage in a verbal spar with his brother but this time, he was going to be the bigger man. “I’m here. I’m helping out.” He turned to Cole.
Neil’s eyebrows quirked up. He obviously expected a fight. But Jack wasn’t going to engage him. A
confrontation with Neil wouldn’t accomplish anything and would only force Cole and Finn to take sides. Keeping his cool right now was for the good of the family.
“All right then.” Neil stood and walked toward the kitchen. “I’ll see you later.”
Yes, he would. And every day that Cole needed him behind this bar. Within the next four weeks, that is.
Chapter Eight
Sterling padded down the grand staircase. Earlier when her stomach had rumbled for the umpteenth time, she’d slipped into the kitchen to put her leftovers from the night before into the microwave. She’d been so busy she hadn’t heard the timer go off—it had been at least thirty minutes since she put her food in, probably nice and cool by now.
When she arrived that morning, she had started on the first floor of Vivian Madewood’s home—Jack’s home—making a first-round sweep of the contents. She’d spent the day marking items with sticky notes: storage, donate, sell. When he returned that night he’d review her decisions and she’d order storage containers.
The week had gone by in a blur. She’d just finished up her latest contract with Dunn and Associates, a multi-partner law firm downtown, and was set to start work with Prism Consulting Group on Monday. Her time at the Madewood home was limited, but she was queen of multitasking. She’d have this house ready in no time. Now that she’d decided to renege on her deal with Jack, she would have more than enough time to finish things in a timely fashion.
And the faster she finished this job, the faster she got paid. Which meant the faster she could pay off the debt and hopefully keep her house. The only pressing concern was how she was going to handle her parents.
She’d been nervous about seeing Jack this morning. Downright terrified. Luckily, he had already left for the day, leaving a spare key for her underneath the doormat. Inside he’d left her a note, a rather detailed note, advising her of his intentions to seduce her when he returned.
The fact that she knew how persuasive he could be terrified her even more, but she’d been prepping her speech all morning. Exercising her willpower for that moment when she’d have to keep her distance.
As she reached the bottom of the staircase, she noticed that a light smoke filled the air. And that smell. She inhaled through her nose and coughed. Something was burning. She raced into the kitchen. Smoke billowed lazily from one end of the room to the next. In the distance, she heard the hum of the microwave.
“No, no, no, no, no,” she cried, running over to the counter. The clock counted down on the microwave at twenty-six minutes.
She had keyed in six minutes. Just six. But judging by the length of time she had disappeared and the amount of smoke in the air, she must have punched in an extra zero.
She pressed the pause button. The appliance stopped, but the smoke that wafted from between the doors did not. She was afraid to open it.
Gathering her courage, she pulled the handle. Smoke rushed out in a thick, gray cloud and rose to the ceiling. Her food sat in its container, black and inedible. She was such a space cadet. On top of thousands of dollars in credit card debt, she now owed Jack a new microwave.
After grabbing some paper towels, she removed the container and placed it in a plastic bag. She tied the ends and left it outside on the back deck. She’d handle it later.
Racing around the house, she opened every window and door she could find. After ten minutes, most of the smoke had dispersed, but the smell lingered. What the hell was she going to tell Jack? He trusted her in his home and she’d almost burned it down.
With the situation under control—and her stomach still growling—she went back to work. It was the only way to redeem herself professionally.
