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“We need to know when to put the garlic bread in, right, Coop?”
He nods. “Right.”
“Have you guys cut the lettuce for the salad yet?” Beth asks him.
“Not yet.”
And just like that, the topic is dropped. If only I could shake my new curiosity about Scarlett just as easily. Instead, I’m left with an itch that I won’t be able to scratch until Monday when I see her again.
15
ADAM
I slide a stack of paper into the printer before collapsing in my desk chair. It spins in a slow circle as I close my eyes.
There are only a few things I dislike about my job, the main one being the piles of paperwork that collect in my office over the span of a few days. Employee schedules, equipment and item orders, and lesson plans that need approval are only a few examples of what lies across my desk, some covered in red pen while others remain untouched.
Banks has been a massive help since I hired him last year, but there are some jobs that I only trust myself to do correctly. Ava calls it obsessive; I call it wanting to be sure things are done right. It’s not that I don’t trust Banks to do those jobs—if I didn’t, I wouldn’t have hired him in the first place—but I just trust myself to do them better. It’s my company, after all. For lack of better words, WIT is like my second child. Nobody knows better when it comes to how the company works than I do.
That’s why I’m still in my office at half past four instead of picking my son up from an after-school jazz band practice. After making a mad-dash call to Oakley once I realized I wasn’t going to be done in time, he was able to convince his three kids to get McDonald’s after school to wait for Cooper to finish practice and to bring him home after. There most likely wasn’t much convincing needed, but nevertheless, I’m grateful.
It would be easy enough to just bring my work home with me, but that’s something I’ve refused to do since I started this business. My parents brought their jobs home with them, and it separated our family. Tore it apart like thin paper and left the shredded pieces scattered on the always waxed, glistening tile floors of my childhood home.
If I have to spend an extra couple of hours in the office in exchange for a sit-down meal around the kitchen table with my son, where I can hear about his day and whatever gossip a twelve-year-old has to spill, I’ll pick slaving away in my office any day.
I scrub a hand down my face and blow out a breath that feels as tight as my chest when my cell phone rings from inside my desk drawer. My head is in the clouds when I pull it out and answer the call without looking at the screen.
“Hello?”
Tyler’s smoky laugh scratches my ear. “Hey, man. What’s up?”
“Trying to catch up on paperwork. I meant to text you after the game last night, but you guys were phenomenal. The Warriors are making the conference finals this year, no question.”
And they deserve it. After losing Oakley the season prior, they were in shambles. It’s a miracle they’re even making a run for the cup this season at all. Most fans expected it to take another few seasons to rebuild the team to a level that could compete again.
“Thanks. That’s the goal, anyway. Got to keep a level head about it still. You know what happens to me when I get a fat ego.”
I laugh. “Yeah, you end up slumming it on the third pairing for half of the season. You’re a franchise player now, Ty. First pairing or no pairing.”
“You sound like my wife.”
“Great minds,” I note.
He clears his throat. “Speaking of my wife, you’re for sure coming to her birthday party, right?”
“Oh, sorry. Did I forget to send a formal RSVP, your majesty?” I tease.
“You did.” He’s as blunt as always.
I grin and drag the tip of my red pen over next week’s schedule, doodling like a kid bored in class. Scarlett’s name is in thick black lettering at the top of the page beside her next few shifts, and suddenly, she’s at the forefront of my mind again.
I tap the pen on my desk. “Of course I’m coming. Free beer and a boat ride on the ocean? How could I pass that up?”
“See, that’s what I told Gray. We might be old as fuck now, but beer, food, and a good time will win us over every time.”
“Being older just means we can afford the good shit. I don’t remember the last time I had the cheap beer we drank in college.” I shiver at the memory of the—for all intents and purposes—beer-flavoured water we would fill our kegs with.
God, it was so much worse in a keg in the sun than it was if we kept it chilled in the fridge. At least if it was cold, it was harder to tell how flavourless it was.
