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“Sorry, Mum. I’ve got to take this,” he said apologetically and fumbled to swipe at his phone screen, his left hand making him clumsy.
“Mase, hey!”
“Brand, what the fuck, man? You let a ninety-pound weakling stab the shit out of you?”
“Last week’s news, mate,” Sam said pointedly, and Mason chuckled.
“I’ve been keeping tabs. Colby has been sending me regular updates.” Colby Campbell, who managed the company accounts, had been with them since the beginning, and Sam was toying with the idea of offering her a stake in Brand Executive Protection Services.
“Why didn’t you just contact me personally?”
“Because I’m pretty sure you would have downplayed the seriousness of your injuries.”
“It’s nothing,” Sam said automatically, and Mason laughed, the sound containing little humor.
“Yeah, a punctured lung and three days in the ICU is nothing.”
“I’m fine.”
“Sure you are. Do you need me to help out with the business for a while till you find your feet?” The offer was tempting, but Mason had started his studies just weeks ago, and taking him away from that would hardly be fair.
“I’ll manage.”
“Colby is willing to step up, you know? You just have to trust her.”
“I do trust her.”
“Not enough. Give her a little more responsibility. She’ll keep the guys in line.”
“The woman hides in her office all day long and looks terrified of most of the guys. I was considering making her a partner, but I would never expect her to deal with the CPOs.”
“She’ll step up because she has to. She just needs the opportunity to prove herself and she’ll handle the guys just fine. Stop underestimating her.”
The door opened and Craig reentered, gingerly clutching a Starbucks cup. His hair and shoulders were wet. Poor guy. While Mason was still talking, Craig spilled a bit of the coffee, and Sam’s mother berated the man like he was a preschooler. Abruptly exhausted, Sam felt his head start to spin. He lay back and shut his eyes. Mason was still yammering on about something, his mother’s high, sharp voice sent spikes of pain piercing into Sam’s brain, while Craig’s whine irritated the hell out of him. He just wished everybody would leave him alone to recover.
He needed to get away from all this. Find someplace quiet and peaceful to lick his wounds in private. And as he listened to Mason continue to laud Colby’s abilities, the solution simply came to him.
“Mase, your cabin’s empty now, right?” he asked, his eyes still shut.
Mason stopped talking in midsentence, and Sam could almost picture his friend’s puzzled frown.
“Yeah, why?”
“Think I could stay there for a few months?”
“You’ll let Colby handle the business?”
“I will, to a certain extent.” He’d definitely want to be privy to her every decision, but that was what phones and computers and Wi-Fi were for.
“Then sure, I think it’ll do you good to get away from everything. Let me know when you want to go, and I’ll make sure it’s fully stocked and ready for you.”
“Thanks, mate, I’ll owe you one. Give Daisy a huge smacking kiss from me.”
“Take care, bru,” Mason said in farewell, and Sam disconnected the call with a tired sigh. He cracked open an eyelid when he realized that the room was unnaturally silent. He really hoped that he wouldn’t find his mother in a lip-lock with Craig, but the other man was gone and his mother was sipping her coffee and watching him speculatively.
“So where is your friend’s cabin situated?” she asked calmly, and Sam suppressed a grimace, annoyed to have been caught in a lie.
“The western Cape in South Africa.”
His mother gasped. “You’re in no shape to make that trip.”
“I can’t go anywhere for three weeks, Mum. So it’s not like I’ll be leaving now. And I’ll take the company jet, cushiest mode of transportation imaginable. It’s an idyllic place with beautiful oceans and mountains, lots of fresh air. Mason’s cabin is tucked away in a sleepy little town. No press to hound me. I wish I could leave today.”
“Who will take care of you? And what about your rehabilitation?”
“Everything will be taken care of, Mum. Don’t worry.”
“I have to worry, you’re my only child,” she said, and he cracked a smile. She was a prima donna, but he adored her.
“I’m thirty-four years old, Mimsy,” he teased weakly.
“Still my child,” she said resolutely. “And I’d thank you to lie about your age from now on, please. I’m much too young to have a thirty-four-year-old son.”
He chuckled, and she took his hand. Feeling comforted, Sam drifted off to sleep.
CHAPTER TWO
“Does everybody know what time it is?” Lia asked brightly. The group of adorable three- and four-year-olds bounced eagerly in response.
“Story time!” they yelled collectively. One precocious boy jumped up and did a little dance of excitement.
“Okay, settle down.” She lifted the book from her lap so that they could all see the cover, and everybody squealed like giddy teens at a pop concert.
