“Just agree with him,” Sam mumbles as he takes a drink. “It’s weird hearing Mason make sense.”
“I know, right?” I quip. “It’s like hell froze over or something.”
“Hah.” Mason glares at us both and gets up to make himself another drink. He limps slightly, making me look at Sam.
“Are you supposed to be bearing weight on that leg yet?” Sam asks, going into doctor-mode.
“I’m fine,” Mason huffs. “I should be out there, following leads. We were close to a breakthrough on this case before I got hurt,” he grumbles to himself as he adds a double-shot of Jack Daniels to his drink.
“I was in Eastwood not long ago,” Sam goes on. “They have a new hospital that’s pretty fucking nice with state-of-the-art surgical equipment. You’d be busy all day too. No more sitting around hoping for a tractor accident.”
“You two are fucked up in the head, you know that, right?” Mason limps back to the table.
“He’s the one who works in trauma,” I point out and then shudder. “You know the burnout rate is—”
“Very high, yes,” Sam interrupts. “Which is why I’m taking Stacey to Hawaii for Valentine’s Day.”
“Ohhh, so romantic,” I gush. “Are you going to propose?”
Both Mason and Sam stare at me incredulously.
“No,” Sam spits out, recoiling from my question. He’s been on-and-off dating a woman named Stacey for the last year or so now. We’ve never met her, and if I judge solely off her social media posts—which I hate doing—I think she’s a gold-digging bitch.
I roll my eyes. “You’re not getting any younger.”
“Neither are you.” Sam gets out his phone. “Do you want me to text Archer? At least see if you can get an interview?”
“Do it, sis,” Mason encourages. “You’ve always been the oldest young-person I know.”
I sink my teeth into my bottom lip. Have I been playing it too safe? Maybe. But I don’t see the harm in that.
And I don’t see the harm in interviewing and checking out the hospital. Mason is right. I can come back if I hate it…but there’s a chance I might love it.
And after the shitshow that is my life, a fresh start sounds amazing.
“Yeah,” I say and feel a bit of excitement flood through me. “Text him.”
Chapter 5
Dean
“You look like shit.”
I pick up the weights, feeling the fatigue in my muscles already. I was out until three AM, had a client meeting at eight-thirty, and am meeting my brothers at the gym now at noon.
“I wasn’t going to bring up your dad-bod, but now I am,” I tell Owen, who immediately turns to check himself out in the mirror. Logan snickers.
“You’ve really let yourself go,” he eggs on, making a face in disgust.
“No, I haven’t.” Owen lifts his shirt and flexes his abs, making Logan and me laugh even more.
“As long as people don’t mistake you for me, it’s all good.”
“Fucker,” Owen throws his water bottle at Logan. “Though you do look like shit, Dean. Did you close down the bar again?”
I internally wince. First Quinn now Owen? “Like you’re one to judge.”
“Oh, I’m not judging. I’m just pointing out that you look like shit.”
“I’m tired.” I go to the weight bench to start my workout. I had coffee for breakfast, half a leftover donut from yesterday that was left in the conference room at the office, and I haven’t had lunch yet.
I feel like shit.
“Don’t forget, when I lived my life of debauchery, I was younger than you, old man.”
“I’m only a few years older than you,” I quip and then take in a breath and start lifting. I make it through one set and feel like I’m dying. Okay fine. I probably look like shit. “But it was worth it. Did you know that crab-ass Mr. Farlow has granddaughters? Twin granddaughters.”
“Please tell me they’re over eighteen,” Logan deadpans.
“Fuck you, and yes. They were at the bar last night.”
“Ben was the bouncer last night,” Owen goes on without missing a beat. “He sucks at checking for fake IDs. You probably boned seventeen-year-olds last night.”
“I think I’d know,” I shoot back. “They were very…mature.”
“Twins, though.” Owen checks himself out in the mirror again. “Impressive, though don’t go thinking you’re special. Twins love twins.”
I make a face, pointing from Logan to Owen. “So you…together? I knew the it’s a twin thing meant more than you were letting on.”
“Why do you think we liked sharing a room?” Owen says seriously and a guy nearby on the leg press stares at him.
“Yep,” Logan says dryly, rolling his eyes. “And tell me one time you hooked up with twins.”
“Just one time?”
“He’s full of shit,” Logan goes on. “Though he has slept with most of Eastwood. And now you have, so maybe you should compare notes?”
“You guys are disgusting.” I look up and see Quinn’s reflection in the mirror as she and Archer make their way over. A few months after Aiden was born, she started coming to the gym with Archer, wanting to get back into shape. I don’t mind her coming to the gym at the same time as us, and she usually goes and jogs on the treadmill while we lift, but the last few weeks she’s been having Archer help her with the weights.
“Hello to you too,” Logan tells her.
“Though he has a good point,” Quinn goes on. “At the rate you’re going, you’re gonna run out of women soon. I have this great—”
“No.” I look past her at Archer, who does a good job avoiding my gaze. He knows Quinn pestering me about dating someone annoys the shit out of me. And he knows that Quinn won’t stop until she’s set me up with every one of her single friends. Being put between your best buddy and your wife can’t be fun.
“What about a dating app?”
“Those are basically booty calls,” Owen tells her.
“Really? But the commercials make marriage seem so promising.”
“I don’t want to date anyone, and I certainly don’t want to marry someone,” I huff and go back to lifting.
Logan says something to Quinn, which makes her pout and shake her head, but she goes and gets on the treadmill without another word.
“You know she’s just looking out for you,” Archer says, adjusting weights on the bar before starting squats. “And there’s no harm in going out with someone. If it doesn’t work, then it doesn’t work.”
Owen steps over. “What he’s not saying, is just let her fucking set you up so she’ll stop.”
“It’ll buy you some time at least,” Archer agrees. “And I’ll give the final stamp of approval on who she sets you up with. Though lately, her thing is getting you and Hilary out together.”
“Hot Nurse Hilary?” Logan and Owen ask at the same time.
“That would be the one,” Archer laughs. “She keeps going back to an old boyfriend, so I don’t think you have to worry about her hoping for a second date.”
“I’ll consider it,” I huff, gritting my teeth as I push through my final rep. My nutrition sucked ass yesterday and then again today, and I vow to get back on track. I was in decent shape before but threw myself hardcore into working out and eating right after Kara and I split up. It kept me busy, gave me something to focus on, and proved that revenge bodies aren’t just for women.
Though I’ve moved on from wanting revenge to just feeling sorry for Kara. I had a hard time after, as expected, of course. We were together for years before we got married, and the split sent me into an existential crisis questioning if anything I felt was actually real.
I thought it was.
Even when I knew we were spiraling out of love at a dizzying rate, I still believed we could fix things.
Maybe I’ll let Quinn set me up on a date just to appease her…or to prove that it doesn’t matter who she sets me up with. It’s not going to work.
My heart’s been ripped in two and smashed to a bloody pulp.
It’s beyond revival. Hell, it’s not even beating anymore.
Why put it back together only so it can get broken again?
Along with feeling betrayed, it made me feel really fucking stupid. Yeah, I’d been busy with work. We had a record number of projects going on, including the renovation of the historic courthouse in downtown Eastwood. Dad’s been slowly stepping back, giving me more free rein over the company as he prepares to officially retire.
But I was still there. Bringing her dinner. Asking how her day went. I knew most of her students’ names. I listened to her vent about difficult parents, about the lack of state funding for the school. No, I wasn’t perfect, but I cared.
I tried.
And it was all for nothing.
“It’s going to be tight on this budget.” I slide the house plan in front of me and tap the curved staircase. “This alone is going to eat up more than you’d think.”
I quickly scan over the “must-have” list and see a lot of expensive items as well, including the Wolf oven range. “But I think we can get something really similar and work with what you’re able to afford.”
“Really?” Katie, the client I’m meeting with this morning, squeals.
“Yes. We’ll have to go over this list in more detail once I get a plan from our architect.” I tap at the floor plan she printed from an out-of-state builder’s website. “This is a copyrighted plan, so we’ll have to change it enough to make it legal.”
“Oh. I didn’t even think about that. I don’t want to get in trouble.”
I nod. “We do everything right here at Dawson Construction. We have clients bring in floor plans like this all the time and we’re able to make it work.”
She claps her hands together. “Devon will be so happy to hear this! I went to your niece’s birthday party last year and fell in love with your sister’s house. I knew you guys built nice houses, but wow.”
I smile. “Her house was fun to design and build.” Quinn and Archer’s house is a fucking mansion, but it’s been good for business. The photos of their double curved staircase in their two-story foyer we posted on our Facebook page went viral, which got us a spot in a popular home-and-garden magazine.
Business has been booming ever since.
“My daughter and Emma are in the same preschool class,” she explains. “You were at the party. I think.”
I was there—physically—but not so much mentally. Quinn went into labor at my wedding. She started having contractions before the ceremony even started and toughed it out until the end.
And Kara was bitching about it the whole time, saying Quinn was stealing all the attention from her. She kicked her out of the bridal party just for being pregnant and got pissed when I hung out with Archer—like he and Quinn planned to get pregnant just to fuck with us. Though really, Quinn was pregnant before we picked our wedding date. Archer brought that up to her once and she wouldn’t talk to me for the rest of the night.
What the fuck was I thinking, marrying her? My baby sister was smiling through labor pains so she could be in our wedding photos and Kara acted like she went into labor on purpose just to ruin our day.
Emma was born a few minutes after midnight, so her birthday is the day after my would-be anniversary, but it brings up too many emotions. I love my niece. I’m Emma’s godfather, and I don’t want anything negative associated with her.
That was honestly the driving force that caused me to get my ass in gear. To go to the therapist that Scarlet recommended. To find a way to move on, to let go of my anger.
Kara fucked me over once, and once is enough. I’m going to live my life, and I’m living it the way I want to right now.
“It was a busy party,” I say, keeping my professional air.
“It was. Super cute too. My daughter still wants a Rapunzel-themed party because of it.” Katie smiles and now her five-thousand-square-foot dream house on a three-thousand-square-foot budget makes sense. It’s something I’ve seen before, and something Dad has taught me how to handle well.
It’s the Keeping up with the Joneses syndrome, and this time it’s literal. Quinn and Archer Jones have the biggest, fanciest house in all of Eastwood. It’s easy to want to try to keep up with them, to feel insecure that you don’t have what they do. It can get people into a lot of trouble, taking out a loan for something they can’t afford.
In the end, clients will do what they want, but Dad and I always try our best to convince them not to take on something that won’t really fill the void. They’ll find someone else to compare themselves to and feel shitty all over again.
“I’m going to email you a few forms,” I go on, wanting to wrap up this meeting so I can go get something to eat. “It’ll help narrow down your “must-haves” and will give us a better idea of your design style. Everything is still completely custom, but we’ve found giving you examples or showing you different options available helps move the process along.”
Katie claps her hands together again, and it takes another ten minutes to get her out of the office. I walk her out and then go back to my desk, answering emails and scheduling painters to come in and do touchups to one of our newest projects.
Nearly an hour later, I’m finally heading out for lunch. I’m meeting Quinn, Scarlet, and their kids for lunch today. It’s a ploy to try and set me up on another date, I know, but Quinn offered to pay, and I never turn down free food. Plus, I love my nieces and nephews, though Jackson is at school and won’t be joining us.
It’s freezing rain out today—gotta love January in the Midwest—and the drive into town takes twice as long. Quinn and Scarlet are already at the café, and it looks like they ordered food already.
“Hey!” Quinn slides a plate in front of me. “Just in time. They just set the food down. I got you your regular, is that okay?”
“Heck yes, thank you.” I take one bite before Arya and Violet pounce on me, wanting a hug.
“Give Uncle Dean some space,” Scarlet says, shaking her head and causing her golden hair to dance around her face. Two guys seated at the diner counter lean closer, whispering something about her.
“You’re totally being checked out,” Quinn says, breaking apart food for Aiden.
“Those hilljacks at the bar?” Scarlet flips her hair. “They’ve been checking me out since the moment we walked in. You too,” she adds. “You’re a babe.”
“Please.” Quinn rolls her eyes. “I’ve had three kids.”
Scarlet just shakes her head. “Well, I’d do you.”
“Aw, thanks. I’d do you too.”
I roll my eyes and take a big bite of my burger. “Want me to tell them to fu—I mean, eff off?” No swearing around the kids…gotta remember that.
“Nah.” She looks up again, and this time purposely catches their eye. “I could con them so hard.”
Quinn laughs. “Should I be concerned?”
“No,” Scarlet sighs. “I’ve happily traded my life of crime for a law-abiding husband.”
“Weren’t you afraid you’d get caught?” I ask.
“That was part of the fun,” she admits. “I’m still waiting for the day Wes needs me to go undercover and get top-secret information for a police matter. Though, the Robocop Quinn is making will be able to handle pretty much everything.”
“Laying it on a little thick there, aren’t you?” I ask flatly and take another bite of food.
Both Quinn and Scarlet laugh, and Quinn pulls out her phone. “Come over tonight and I’ll show you.” She swipes through photos that are probably Photoshopped. “It’s real, and it’s not a Robocop like the movie. Wasn’t that one half-human or something?”
“Or something?” I lean back, shocked. “Have you not seen Robocop? It’s one of the greatest movies of all time.”
“Sure it is.”
“And I am coming over. Archer already invited me.”
“You two should just get married at this point.”
I bring my hand to my chest. “I’ve always wanted to be a doctor’s wife. But really.” I hike up my eyebrows. “Why do you want me to come over? Who else is going to be there?”
Quinn shrugs and is suddenly really interested in the applesauce she’s opening for Aiden. “Just some of my friends. We’re playing D&D.”
“Just when I think you couldn’t be more of a nerd.”
“Oh shut up. Owen and Charlie played it with us last time and had fun.”
“Owen is losing his touch. Being a dad has made him lame.”
Scarlet looks at Quinn, nonverbally saying something. Quinn nods. “Wes and Scar are coming.”
“Wes is even lamer than Owen. No offense, Scarlet.”
“None taken. His lameness is part of what I love about him.”
“I’m playing video games with Archer tonight. And I’m not interested in any of your nerd friends.”
“Not even her?” Quinn flips to another photo of a woman. “She’s pretty, isn’t she?”
I lean in and look at the photo. “Yeah. She is.”
“Can I set you two up?”
I think back to what Owen said yesterday, about how I should just let Quinn set up a blind date so she can be done with it. “Fine.”
“Really?” Quinn’s green eyes widen.
“Yeah. Actually, let’s make a deal.”
Quinn gives Aiden the applesauce. “I’m listening.”
“You can set me up on three dates. But after the third one is a bust, you have to promise to stop with this. It’s annoying.”
“Three dates?” She brings her hands together and smirks. “I know the perfect people.”
“They have to be spaced out too. One a month.”
“One a week?” Her eyebrows go up.
“Every two weeks.”
“I can agree to those terms.”
“Last part of the deal,” I go on. “Archer gets final approval over who you set me up with.” I smile smugly. He’s been my best friend since college. He’ll have my back.
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