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“I was an idiot once—those texts are living proof—but that was years ago. I’m not like that with clients. Hell, I never was. After I shot my mouth off about the depot redesign, I sobered up and went over it four extra times that week.” He sighs, turning to Wellter, the lawyer. “Do I have to pay for this shit my entire life? Even if she hates me, how the fuck could she do this to my family? She’s not just messing with me. This will damage everything named Brandt.”
She. That can only mean Carmen.
Is it just the hit piece he’s upset about? Or does he still have feelings for her?
He trends on social media all the time and it usually isn’t flattering, but then again, it’s also not usually about his business.
I still wonder how much of that brushfire kiss was him trying to make her jealous.
My stomach flips.
Whatever. I’m just here to drive.
I drop the attorney off at his office and head to Brandt Ideas.
Nick is still fuming in the back seat, his eyes glinting out the tinted windows like lasers hellbent on finding Osprey Media’s headquarters on the skyline and destroying it.
“Millie’s dad called.” I glance into the rearview mirror, hoping my words distract him from his outrage.
“What the hell? When? And when were you planning on telling me?”
Not the reaction I expected.
“He called while you were at the meeting. I wasn’t going to mention it in front of your attorney, or even worry you with this right now...but I thought you’d want to know.”
He sighs. “Of course I do. And I apologize. It’s been a bastard of a day and it’s not even nine o’clock.”
“...do you want to tell me what went down first?” I ask carefully.
“No,” he bites off.
Annoying. So he can hire a whole squad of specialists to take care of us, but he can’t tell me why someone trash-talked him like that online?
My face must give my thoughts away.
“I did this,” he says. “I caused this mess. That’s what I mean. I’m the only one who ought to be cleaning, without dragging you into this shit. Now, how did it go with Millie’s dad?”
I swallow.
“I’m not sure. His number wasn’t working before. Sutton’s office called at some point and left a voicemail—probably to help me satisfy CPS. The weird part is, he already knew Abby’s in jail, and now he wants to see Millie...”
“Don’t let him,” he flings out. “Not without me there,” he adds.
Oh.
Oh, wow.
Another reaction that catches me off guard, even if it makes my heart race.
“Nick, it’s fine. You don’t have to—”
“I don’t trust him, Reese. If he hasn’t been around all this time, why does he care all of a sudden?”
“I wondered the same thing...I’m not sure I believe the broken phone story. But since his ex is in jail and Millie’s missing her mom, maybe his conscience started eating at him. It should, because he’s a shitheel of a dad.”
Nick’s quiet for a minute.
“Possibly. There’s a lot about this whole situation I hate,” he growls, this roughness in his voice channeling my own pain.
I suppress a smile.
“Me too. Starting with my sister being in jail and ending with my inability to shower alone for more than three minutes ever since my niece took over my place.” My eyes snap away from his. My cheeks flare. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to say that last part.”
“Don’t you dare apologize. You showering is the best thought I’ve had all day,” he rumbles.
Uh-oh. His eyes could rival a hungry, sleek panther’s right now.
A tingle vibrates low in my belly and spreads like wildfire to other places. I purse my lips, trying to play it off as stress, but I’m well aware the blush is becoming noticeable.
“Some things you shouldn’t comment on. Especially now,” I say.
“I’d apologize but I’d rather be honest. I’m serious when I said it’s the best thought I’ve had today. Your crimson-red cheeks are a close second.”
Oh. My. God.
“You’re crazy. Not that I blame you after the way the morning went...”
“Crazy? No, Halle. Just happy because you like that I like that thought, or else you wouldn’t be bright red. Can we stop for coffee? I’m craving another macchiato after the surprise you left yesterday.”
He needs to stop. Right now. Before my cheeks melt off my face.
The worst part is, he’s so calm too.
I’m tempted to tell him no. I’m driving and he’s torturing me. But his coffee run would give me time to clear the lava out of my face.
I pull into the closest coffee shop I find. “Go in yourself. I need air.”
He opens the door, leans back in the seat, and stares at me, lifting that dark slash of an eyebrow.
“So, I can be proud you’re hot and bothered?”
“Nick, go!”
He chuckles. “Do you want anything?”
“A well-behaved boss.”
