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1
JONAS
My head is aching, and I want to go home. But this, gathering at the end of the workday to drink and talk, is a tradition for all of us. One that I love too much to cut out of. But I really want to lie down in a dark room for a few hours.
My brothers are all drinking and talking, occasionally looking to me for information. Otherwise, they're all content to let me rest against the window, mostly silent.
I talk plenty when I have something to say. Some of my brothers, on the other hand, never shut up. It took years, but I've learned how to tune them out, only listening with a little corner of my mind. It's enough to answer when I need to but not get overwhelmed by the sheer volume of jackassery coming out of their mouths.
Everyone falls silent. It's unusual enough to bring my attention back to the room. We always meet in Ransom’s office. It’s the same size as any of ours, but Ransom has a lot more furniture for us to relax on. It doesn’t matter. Even if his office was the smallest, we’d still gravitate to him.
Colton's escorting a woman into the office, settling her into a chair near Ransom's desk. I know who she is. I see her every day at the front desk. She's been here a few years and always sounds happy when she greets people. I guess that’s a requirement for the job. Having someone who hates smiling, greeting people, would be a poor business decision.
Why is she on the twelfth floor, in a room with all the company's owners? She is matter out of place, and that alone makes her interesting. I push the distraction of my headache to the back of my mind so I can focus on her and Colton.
Within minutes, I'm riveted. This small — or small to me anyway —, attractively rounded, unassuming woman did something all my brothers and all our resources couldn't. She found the thief who'd been stealing from us for months. As she describes how she did it, the rest of the room fades out until all I can see is Janey with her long golden brown hair. Her small pale hands waving as she tries to explain how she figured it out.
"Well, it started with the way he held himself. Then little things changed. He started combing his hair differently. He smelled different. But it didn't come with the lightness that someone who's doing those things for a romantic relationship would. Then he started wearing nicer ties, then his shoes were so nicely polished. Then, his eyes changed."
My brothers are staring at her, too, with a mixture of confusion and interest. I feel the same way.
She smiles. "It's ok if it doesn't make sense to you."
It doesn't make sense to me. And I'm suddenly desperate to dig into her head. I want to understand how she can see those things...things that everyone else missed.
"Can you help us make sense of it? What do you mean, his eyes changed?" I ask, leaning forward. I don't want to miss a word. My brothers are all staring at me. I get it. Most of the time — okay, all of the time — I'm happier staying in the background, letting everyone else do the talking.
She turns to me and wets her lips, but her eyes attempt to meet mine. I don’t let her, staring at the row of eyelashes on the bottom of her left eye instead. The corner of her mouth tilts up.
“The best way I can describe it is his eyes turned better than."
"Better than?" Maverick asks with a frown.
"He didn't look at other people like they were as good as him. It changed to better than. Like he thought he was smarter, better." She shrugs. "I'd heard people talk about the thefts, usually in a whisper. I don't have any good reason why I put that together with the way he'd been acting. But it wouldn't leave me alone. So I talked to Mr. Miles."
"Yeah, you did. And you were bang on." Colton says, smiling at her. She smiles back, which isn't surprising, but something about it bothers me. More specifically, the fact that she's aiming that smile at Colton annoys me.
What would it take to get her to look at me like that?
Colton's voice breaks my focus. "Janey, does the way Jonas is looking at you right now bother you?"
I wasn't aware of it. But now that he's pointed it out, I realize I've been staring. Hard. At her softly rounded cheeks, and narrow nose. Individual parts that shouldn’t be so interesting, yet are.
She laughs. "Of course not. He's just trying to figure out how I see the world. The headache probably isn't helping."
I rear back against the window as her words hit me. A mixture of discomfort and something hotter settles in my chest.
"Headache?" my brother Ransom asks, looking between us.
Janey looks at me, and I see the question in her eyes. I'm not sure what she's asking. It doesn't matter. I nod, hoping that’s what she needs from me, and she smiles again as she explains.
"It's a sunnier day. On sunny days, he wears his contacts. Maybe because there would be too much glare with the glasses. Anyway, on sunny days, but at the end of the day, the lines beside his eyes are deeper, and he walks more carefully like his head is hurting."
She's spooky.
She's stunning.
Ransom looks at me, and this time, I understand the unspoken question. I tip my chin at him, because she's absolutely right.
