True North (North Brothers Book 1)

by Amy Knupp

  “Burgers and broccoli doesn’t have quite the same ring.” Gabe picked up a food box anyway and started dressing his burger.

  Cole went over to the cupboard and took down a stack of plates. When they were kids, their mom had started a long-lasting Fiestaware phase and had a set of sixteen place settings of various solid-colored pieces. She still used those today.

  “What’s the plan for the week as far as having someone here to help out?” Cole asked. They’d discussed it in general over the past few days but, not previously knowing when she’d be released to come home, they hadn’t hammered out specifics. She would no doubt insist she’d be fine on her own, but that wasn’t going to fly with her sons.

  “Aunt Liz and Miranda are splitting tomorrow,” Mason said. “Geraldine offered to do Wednesday. We need to cover the rest.”

  Geraldine Fleming and Liz North were Faye’s best friends and had been for decades. Liz, the wife of the brothers’ late uncle, Hamilton North, had been the VP of accounting for North Brothers Sports until she retired a couple of years ago. Geraldine had overseen the marketing department and retired three months after Liz. Until her heart attack, Faye had been the holdout of the three—though she’d officially retired as well, she’d been working as some kind of consultant ever since. Miranda North was Liz’s youngest, her only daughter, who also worked for the family business. Faye would be in good hands with all of them.

  The brothers split up the rest of the week, with Cole grabbing Saturday duty before anyone else could.

  “Sounds like business is good at Dunn & Lowell,” Gabe said as he carried a bottle of root beer and an aqua plate heaped with a burger, a pile of steamed broccoli, and a heap of roasted red potatoes over to the long, farm-style table that seated eight between the family room and the breakfast bar.

  Cole and Drake grabbed drinks from the fridge, then followed him and sat down, Drake at the foot, Cole next to him, while Mason elected to eat standing up, from the kitchen side of the bar, facing them. The guy wouldn’t know how to relax if his life depended on it.

  “Staying busy,” Cole answered as he jabbed a forkful of potato.

  “Judging by your boss’s reaction to learning you blew off business from us, I’d say maybe not busy enough,” Mason said, and Cole straightened, ready to light into him.

  “Stop baiting him,” Gabe said to Mason.

  Mason shrugged. “I would’ve liked to be able to do business with her. She’s building up quite the rep for quality work.”

  “Easy on the eyes too,” Drake threw in.

  “Don’t go there,” Cole warned around a bite of burger.

  Gabe eyed Cole from the side, and Cole realized snapping at Drake like a pissed-off Doberman was a bad move. But just the thought of Drake eyeballing Sierra had a jealous fury beating through his blood.

  “Seemed like there was some chemistry between you and Sierra at the hospital,” Gabe said.

  Cole let out an edgy laugh. The phrase chemistry between you sounded benign and harmless. He’d been longing so hard for Sierra for the past forty-eight hours that it was a physical ache. There was nothing benign about it, as it was ruling just about every minute of his damn life.

  “She’s my boss,” Cole said through a tense jaw.

  “I was in the same room with you for approximately three and a half minutes,” Drake said. “Seemed like work positions were a nonissue.”

  “You can’t help who you’re attracted to,” Gabe said, and he was lucky he was sitting too far away for Cole to reach him without getting up.

  “There’s no sense in denying the attraction,” Mason said matter-of-factly. “It is what it is.”

  “I’m not denying there’s an attraction,” Cole said, all of his frustration, both physical and otherwise, exploding out of his voice. He made an effort to level himself before saying more. “What I’m trying to do is have some ethics and not sleep with the boss.”

  “You could find a new job,” Drake suggested as he lifted his feet to one of the empty chairs.

  “I don’t want a new job.” Cole jabbed a potato with too much force, his fork scraping across the plate.

  “If you worked at North Brothers, you’d alleviate the problem,” Gabe said casually, too casually.

  Cole scowled as he dragged another forkful of potato through the olive oil and seasonings that had puddled on his plate. “You two have never wanted me working at North Brothers.” He kept his voice casual and matter-of-fact too.

  A scoff came from Mason as he set his burger down and then wiped his mouth with a napkin. “We would’ve taken you in a second if you wanted to work with us. You never wanted to work with us.”

  Cole expelled a disbelieving snort, then looked at Gabe to see if he was playing along with the farce.

  “It’s true,” Gabe said, his light blue eyes piercing into Cole.

  Drake continued to shove food into his mouth, as if nothing was going on around him. As if everything Cole had believed for over a decade had not just been turned on its head in a single sentence.

  Mason was watching Cole from the counter, and their eyes met for a second. There was a challenge in Mason’s. Cole racked his brain to when he was eighteen years old, searching for a time when either Mason or Gabe might have given him signs they wanted him to join the family business. They’d never said a word.

  “I call bullshit,” Cole said calmly, quietly, hiding the storm of emotion that was blowing through him.

  “Call bullshit all you want,” Mason said. “That’s your problem.”

  “You guys barely even talked to me back then, let alone said anything serious about business opportunities.” Cole took a bite of burger, not really tasting it but working hard not to show how fucked up he was inside about something that had happened—or hadn’t happened—fourteen years ago.

  “Oh, we tried. Several times,” Gabe said. “Both of us. You never stuck around long enough for us to get into it.”

  “You had a way of making it hard to talk to you,” Mason said, going after his veggies now as if nothing else mattered. “Especially when you signed over your shares. I specifically remember telling you it was a mistake and that you didn’t have to do it, even if you weren’t ready to work for the company. Let’s just say you weren’t open to hearing anything we said.”

  Gabe let out a short laugh. “That’s putting it mildly. You were a bear and you know it.”

  “Bear,” Drake repeated. “Son of a bitch. Downright asshole.”

  There was nothing Cole could argue with in that statement. “That proves my point,” he said. “Why would you want your asshole brother who wasn’t going to college to work for you or with you?”

  “Why wouldn’t we?” Gabe said. “You’re fucking brilliant. College or no college. Dad wanted all of us to be involved in the company if we wanted, however we wanted.”

  “Dad’s been dead for fifteen years,” Cole threw out, in part to cover that he was reeling even more. It was the first time since he was a little kid that he could recall any of his brothers had said anything positive about him, and he recognized, in that moment, maybe he had been dying for it. Mentally, he tamped down on that shit. He’d made it for years without it and he was fine.

  “It’s not Dad’s company anymore,” Gabe said, “but he and Uncle Ham started it, and we try not to lose sight of their reasons for doing that. If they hadn’t, we’d have different lives, for sure.”

  Mason, finished with his food, rinsed off his plate, then put it in the dishwasher. “Dad and Uncle Ham always wanted to take care of family, however they could. It doesn’t mean we’ll put someone who isn’t qualified into a position, but it’s North Brothers Sports and there’s a place for any North brother who’s interested.”

  “Right,” Cole blurted, in part because he didn’t know what the hell else to say, because his entire perspective was being challenged.

  “Try me,” Mason said, standing straight at the counter, his palms resting on the surface. “Come work for Nort
h Brothers.”

  Cole felt the attention of everyone in the room on him, and his brain couldn’t truly process Mason’s words, couldn’t entirely take them seriously somehow, though looking at the CEO of North Brothers standing there across the room from him, there was no question he was serious as a funeral service.

  His instinct was to snap out a rejection, but he reminded himself he was supposed to be trying to get along, to forge relationships with his family. For his mom’s sake if nothing else, though if he shoved down his stubborn pride and was honest with himself, sometimes he could admit it was for his own sake as well.

  “I like the job I have,” he said finally. “Not looking for a change.”

  “It’d solve your problem with Boss Sierra,” Drake said, leaning back in his chair, holding his root beer bottle.

  “Sierra’s not a problem to be solved,” Cole lied, apparently unable to quit lashing out defensively whenever Drake mentioned her.

  “Give it some thought,” Mason ordered, and Cole reminded himself that bossiness was a personality quirk that his brother couldn’t help. It didn’t make it less annoying.

  “What would I even do?” Cole asked, to point out the stupidity of his proposition. “I don’t have a degree. I’m not planning on getting one.”

  Mason shrugged. “Whatever you’re interested in. I know how you work. If you want to learn something, you will, the ins and outs and then some. If you’re serious, let’s set up a time to meet and discuss it.”

  “I’m not. I like what I do,” Cole said without thought. He didn’t need to think about it. He worked in construction. Sierra depended on him, and he was content in the job. Case closed.

  That didn’t mean his head wasn’t spinning.

  He’d harbored a grudge all these years, taken issue with not ever being talked to about the company. At eighteen, he’d specifically not wanted to be involved, had made that clear with the chip he carried around on his shoulder, and maybe it was yet another way he’d been a dumb ass—hating his brothers for not including him when maybe they would have if he’d just lowered his defensiveness. Or maybe they really had tried. He didn’t remember it that way. Only now could he start to suspect how his inner rage had affected him so deeply, had dictated his life then and now. The thought didn’t sit well, and he tried to shove it out of his head.

  It took everything in him to linger after the food was gone, sitting around at the table, acting like he was listening to the banter, the plans for taking care of the day-to-day for their mom, the ins and outs of her care. The discharge papers and home care instructions were on the fridge clipped to a magnet that said That moment when you realize this IS your circus and those are your monkeys that had been there for as long as Cole could remember. He could read the instructions when he needed to know what to do.

  He caught himself bouncing his leg more than once and forced it to stop each time. Checking the time repeatedly, he made himself stay until 9:15 exactly. Then he made a vague excuse and unceremoniously took off in his truck, heading for anywhere but his apartment.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Sierra set her laptop on the love seat cushion next to her and curled deeper into the thick, fuzzy, oversized throw blanket. It was maybe a little chilly to be working out on her balcony at nearly nine thirty on a late October evening, but with flannel pajama pants, a long-sleeved tee, a lightweight hoodie, and the blanket, she was comfortable and enjoying the peace of Hale Street. Peace and contentment with an underlying buzz of anticipation that stemmed from inside of her.

  She’d hit send on Dunn & Lowell’s official application for the Eldridge Mansion competition three minutes ago. Thanks to Cole’s revisions, she felt more than good about it. Their application was strong and showcased the company’s experience and capabilities beautifully. If they didn’t make the cut, it was because the competition organizers were looking for something that Dunn & Lowell wasn’t.

  It turned out she could be grateful to Cole on a professional level while wanting to wring his neck on a personal one.

  Apparently Friday night did not sit well with him after all. Not exactly a shocker after he’d practically run out of here, but still a disappointment. He’d said he needed time to wrap his head around their new closeness, and she could give him that, but the one text message since, to see how her ankle was, was short and not really sweet. Cordial but distant. There was no hint of the connection they’d shared Friday night, and her instincts told her he was doing his best to sever that connection, not wrap his head around it. Her shoulders sagged at the physical twinge of disappointment deep in her chest.

  She’d meant what she’d told him Friday. She’d decided, after her talk with Hayden, to put her doubts about their work positions to rest. The truth was that she couldn’t get Cole out of her mind. She wanted to know him better, wanted to have him in her life after work hours, wanted to be a part of his. After his revelations Friday, she understood him so much better. Knowing some of what he’d been through only made her care more. And her need for him physically…

  All it had taken was one evening out of their usual environment—the night of Kennedy’s wedding. One evening of her looking past his work façade to see the real Cole, or at least the parts he’d allowed her to see. It was as if she’d had blinders on to the chemistry between them, and once she’d lowered them, shared that intense, charged moment with him in her kitchen that night, the attraction had flooded in, making it impossible for her to go back to seeing him only as the tight-lipped man she worked with. In just over a week, she’d gone from zero to lying in bed at night longing for him.

  But it seemed maybe it wasn’t as two-sided as she’d imagined on Friday. That or maybe Cole was just that reluctant to let anyone in.

  Work could be interesting tomorrow. Interesting or frustrating or, most likely, awkward.

  She’d left the balcony door ajar and now a knock at the apartment door startled her. She shoved the blanket aside, grabbed the computer, and went inside, limping only slightly after having iced and babied her ankle all weekend, to the mostly dark living room, illuminated by the faint light over the stove in the kitchen. As she set the laptop on the chaise cushion, another knock sounded, louder, firmer, and, her heart hammering because it was late on a Sunday and that knock sounded like it meant business, she went to the peephole and looked out. What she saw didn’t calm her heart for a second.

  Cole stood there with one forearm braced on the doorjamb, his head bowed as if he was studying the floor of the hallway. Sierra whipped the door open.

  “Hi, Cole. What’s wrong?”

  He straightened and didn’t bother trying to smile, but he did meet her gaze, and she felt herself melting a little into his troubled brown eyes in spite of herself.

  “Okay if I come in?” he asked quietly.

  “Of course.” She stood back to let him pass, closed and locked the door after him. “What’s going on?” she tried again.

  He glanced around her apartment, which had become cluttered over the weekend. She’d planned on tidying up before bed tonight. “I just…wanted to see you.”

  Those words sent a thrill through her, and she tried to rein it in. Tried, but damn, just looking at him, dressed in dark blue jeans that were nicer than the old, worn ones he usually wore to work and a faded red thermal shirt that stretched just right over his muscular chest, and standing so close she caught his masculine scent… Losing battle.

  “Here’s me,” she said, throwing her arms out and trying to coax a smile from him, hoping she wasn’t what had him upset.

  He seemed to try, judging by an upward flutter of one side of his lips, but she wouldn’t call it a success. “Pajamas,” he said. “I guess it’s late.”

  “I was working out on the balcony. Just sent in the Eldridge app.”

  “Outside?”

  “It’s a beautiful evening. Up for it? We could talk—” At his instant frown, she changed direction. “Or not talk. Just sit.”

  She gestured towa
rd the still-open door to the balcony. She was curious what was up with him and hoped if she got him to relax, he might tell her. When he hesitated, she said, “I have a blanket.”

  “’Course you have a blanket.” He came closer to a smile this time.

  “If it’s too cold for you though…” she challenged.

  “Lead the way.”

  Sierra stepped out onto the small wrought-iron balcony that held the wicker love seat, a square ottoman, and a dainty side table, as well as a tall potted plant in the corner that she’d need to bring in for the winter soon. She picked up the corners of the blanket from the cushions and motioned for Cole to sit.

  Glancing warily around at the surrounding balconies, all deserted and some of them even packed up for the coming winter, he went to the side farther from the door and sat. His tall frame made the furniture seem delicate and less than sturdy. He extended his arm, indicating the spot next to him, and she sat, enveloping them both under the fuzzy throw. He kept his arm around her shoulder, pulling her in closer, and she felt a little more optimistic that he wasn’t here to tell her they couldn’t be together.

  “Ankle’s better?” he asked.

  “Much. The swelling’s mostly gone. I’ve sat around all weekend, trying to stay off it. I can’t afford to miss work this week.”

  “Have you ever missed work besides the day before Kennedy’s wedding?”

  “I’ve taken some days off between projects when we haven’t been stacked so tight.”

  “Not since I’ve worked there,” he said, his voice a quiet, comforting rumble in the night air.

  She glanced up at his profile, noting his unshaven jaw in the faint light from the old-fashioned streetlamps below. She wanted to run a finger over his roughened skin but was still treading lightly, unsure about his mood.

  “I love my work,” she said. “Is everything okay with your mom?”

  He breathed out audibly. “We got her home tonight. She’s doing okay, I guess. Just really tired.”