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“Why not? Addison’s pretty.”
“Pretty? She’s gorgeous. But if Taylor keeps teasing her, Addi might quit. You know how hard it is to find a good assistant.” Bran was shaking his head again, more adamantly than before. “I rounded the corner after Taylor shouted we’d be good together, and Addi looked like she wanted the floor to swallow her. Trust me, the only thing between Ad and me is professional compatibility. If she liked me, I’d know it.”
“Don’t be so sure. Not every woman who likes you jumps you in a closet.”
Bran crashed into Royce and tumbled him off the steps and into the plush grass, but he was laughing when he did it. The backyard scuffle reminded Royce of the few times they’d wrestled as kids. Never fighting to win anything, always on the same side. Like now.
Bran collapsed next to him, his back to the ground.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about CEO,” Royce said. “I should have.”
“Yeah. Don’t do it again.”
Royce let out a small chuckle, then fell silent. They lay side by side for a moment, their eyes on the bright blue sky overhead. Royce’s head was thumping hard enough to outrace his heart. Partially because of the eye, partially because he knew what he had to do when it came to Taylor.
The position of CEO was rewarding, but demanding. Taylor had been in second place since he accepted the position, and he’d believed that she was okay with it. Now he wondered if that was the case. Would she eventually expect more than he had the ability to give? Did she already expect more?
Bran was right. The Knox trio had always been a unit. He owed his brother and sister the courtesy of not tanking their family legacy. Hell, he’d swung the felling blow to keep their products out of retail establishments that might’ve contributed to a significant percentage of sales. Why? Because he’d wanted to please Taylor.
It was time to stop playing house and focus on work—only work.
His chest howled in protest. He wanted her. God, how he wanted her. In his bed, in his life. On his couch. On my desk. But when it came to giving her what she ultimately desired—a family—he had no idea when he’d be ready. If he’d ever be ready.
His future was predetermined. The success of ThomKnox rested squarely on his shoulders. Eighteen-hour days wouldn’t leave much room for Taylor. She’d accepted his wacky schedule so far, but what about in six months? A year? His dream was coming true, but how long should she wait to have hers? He refused to be the man who would always be telling her, “Let’s wait another year...”
His dreams were important, but so were hers. He and Taylor had the physical attraction on lock, but where it counted—when building a life came into the picture, how could he ask her to table her wants and needs for him?
“I smell your brain cooking,” Bran said, hands on his own chest and eyes turned toward Royce. “Thinking hard?”
“You might’ve knocked some sense into me.”
“You’re welcome.” Bran stood, his lighter brown hair highlighted in a halo around his head, part of it falling over his forehead as he looked down. “You need ice.”
“You need a haircut.”
Bran would probably brag to everyone that he was responsible for the black eye. Just what Royce needed. Bran toed Royce in the ribs and then headed inside. Royce stayed on his back, listening as the icemaker rattled out the cubes that would soon soothe his aching head.
He knew what he had to do when it came to Taylor.
But he didn’t want to do it.
