Rise: Rise & Fall Duet Book 1 (Shaken 3)

by Grahame Claire

  A bike leaned against the wall.

  A laundry basket stuffed with towels sat to the side of the hallway that I assumed led to their bedrooms.

  The apartment was a disaster. A far cry from the two put-together individuals.

  But something about it felt like a home.

  I was torn between wanting to escape and stepping deeper into the room.

  “Would you believe we had a hectic morning?” A hint of red crept up Lexie’s neck.

  “It’s always like this,” Eric volunteered. “We barely have time to breathe.”

  She looked like she wanted to disappear as her brother spoke the truth and undoubtedly parroted her words.

  “What exactly are you so busy doing?”

  “Are you going to shut the door?” Lexie snapped.

  I twisted to find that I had in fact hardly moved into their space. If I shut that door, I’d be secured in their world. I wasn’t sure that was where I wanted to be. And I definitely wasn’t sure I wanted to eat ice cream. Do they have any clean bowls and spoons?

  I’d always kept my place tidy despite having a housekeeper. I resisted the urge to clean the clutter. This was their lives. I had no right to judge their mess.

  I shoved the door closed and locked it.

  “We have the dog food business. Plus, we volunteer at the old folks’ home, clean the parks once a month, take a Bob Ross painting class on Thursdays, and help Mrs. Brooks with anything she needs.” Eric looked at Lexie. “What did I forget?”

  “We work on the van.”

  I jerked my gaze to her, and she nodded.

  “It took us four years to save the money and figure out how to do stuff,” Eric said proudly.

  For some reason, I thought she’d purchased the van in that condition. Knowing she and Eric had restored it . . . was impressive.

  “That’s . . .” I searched for an adequate word.

  “Amazing,” he said helpfully.

  “Absolutely.” These two were so unexpected. Quite the pair.

  “Hey! Let me show you my toolbox.” He raced off before I could respond.

  “He’s really proud,” Lexie said, pulling down a few bowls from the cabinet.

  “As he should be.”

  She didn’t need to defend his excitement to me. If I’d restored a car or done half the things Eric rattled off, I’d be proud too.

  I had one activity.

  Work.

  Not exactly an amazing feat.

  When I did lend a helping hand to others, it came in the form of writing a check. I didn’t get down and dirty because I simply didn’t have the time.

  Lexie, Eric, and I had something else in common. We were so busy we could barely breathe.

  I shouldn’t have taken so much time away this afternoon. I definitely shouldn’t be here now. But that wasn’t necessarily about the lost minutes away from work.

  “Are you feeling better?”

  Lexie dropped the lid off the container of ice cream and flashed a withering look in my direction. She seemed all right, but I was compelled to ask. For a few minutes today, she’d been vulnerable. I didn’t want her to carry the panic attack with her overnight.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Does that happen often?” I pressed as I strode toward her.

  “No.” She scooped ice cream in a bowl. “Does evading arrest happen often to you?”

  I wanted to laugh but stuffed it down. The subject wasn’t funny, but her audacity was amusing.

  “No.”

  “Will you be able to stay out of prison?”

  I gripped the bowl she handed me. “If all goes well.”

  She pointed. “Don’t eat any until Eric gets back. He’d be disappointed to miss your first bite.”

  I set it on the counter next to the others. The bowls were a festive green, yellow, and blue, and so very them.

  “Found it!” Eric yelled as he raced back into the room lugging a bright red toolbox.

  He set it on the coffee table and cleared off some of the magazines from the sofa.

  Lexie carried two bowls and three spoons over and sat beside him. She offered him a bowl and spoon.

  “Four scoops?” His eyes widened.

  “We worked hard today.” She lifted her spoon and clinked with his. Then she scooted closer to him to make room for me.

  I accepted the offered spoon, though I felt a little shafted I didn’t get the clink.

  Eric watched as I dipped it into the soft ice cream and brought it to my mouth. The sweetness melted as soon as it hit my tongue. I chewed on a fresh strawberry and swallowed.

  I wasn’t much for sweets, but this was . . . “That’s . . .”

  “Amazing,” Eric finished for me once more.

  My face felt strange as it formed into something unfamiliar. A smile. “Absolutely.” I took another bite. “I’m pretty sure you’ve ruined me for all other ice cream.”

  Lexie’s shoulders straightened and her chest puffed as she took her own bite.

  “Told you it’s the best in the universe,” Eric said smugly before proceeding to devour half of his bowl.

  I savored mine even as it began to melt. Lexie inhaled the contents of her bowl even faster than her brother.

  Beau was definitely a healthy eater, but I hadn’t been around many other women at mealtime. I tried to remember my mother at a lunch or dinner and grew frustrated when the memory wouldn’t come.

  Another thing I’d lost over time.

  “Are you sure you like it?” Lexie asked quietly.

  My spoon was stabbed into a scoop and my knuckles were white. “I—yes.” How did I explain I’d lost my appetite for reasons that had nothing to do with her?

  I forced another bite in my mouth, not wanting to insult them.

  Eric showed me every piece in his toolbox while I struggled to give him my full attention. I was interested, but I’d rocketed to a bad place and wasn’t used to having an audience for that.

  Lexie touched his knee. “Go get the painting you finished last week.”

  He was off again.

  She picked up his empty ice cream bowl. “You can sneak out now.”

  I blinked at her. “I beg your pardon.”

  “Your eyes are glazed over. He’ll forgive you if you want to go.”

  I snapped out of my funk. “I’m interested.”

  “Oh yeah?” She picked up some shiny metal tool. “What’s this?”

  I opened my mouth and closed it.

  “That’s what I thought.”

  Shit. I’d pissed her off without meaning to, and this time it wasn’t fun.

  “You can’t get rid of me that easily.” Why had I said that? Why was I shifting the blame to her?

  She flipped on the faucet. Was she trying to drown me out?

  “I didn’t know it was time to do dishes. I’ll help.” Eric dropped the canvas from his hands and detoured to the sink.

  It wasn’t my home, but I felt like a chump for not thinking of volunteering to help too. I finished my ice cream and shrugged off my jacket. Once I set my bowl on the counter, I rolled up my sleeves.

  “What are you doing?” Lexie asked sharply.

  “Dishes.” I picked up a towel and dried the plate she’d just rinsed.

  “Go away.” She clamped her lips shut like she hadn’t meant to speak her mind. Or maybe not that way in front of Eric.

  But it was refreshing.

  I took the clean fork from her fingers, surprised that I was doing something so mundane as wiping up dishes. My life was so rarely unscripted . . . that this felt odd, but strangely good. Leave. Go, like Lexie wants. But . . . “Don’t think I can do that.”

  Chapter Ten

  Lexie

  Go away.

  Go away.

  Go away.

  I dug the heel of my hand into my skull, willing the image of Lincoln with his sleeves rolled up out of my head.

  It didn’t work.

  Nothing had.

  I’d even ta
ken a melatonin before bed, but it never kicked in. My mind worked overtime with the entire afternoon and evening’s events. Lincoln had left hours ago, but he’d invaded our space.

  Eric had talked nonstop about him until we called it a night.

  I had to shut that down.

  What had he done that was so spectacular anyway? Eaten ice cream? Done some dishes? Big whoop.

  Another flash of the way his forearms flexed as he dried an entire sink’s worth of dishes stabbed me in the brain. How was he tan anyway? It was April, for Pete’s sake.

  At least he could’ve solved the mystery as to why he’d never had strawberry ice cream. Not that I cared. It probably wasn’t all that interesting.

  I punched my pillow.

  “Go away,” I grumbled into it.

  We had a crazy full Monday ahead of us. I couldn’t afford the loss of even an hour of sleep, let alone an entire night. I’d be toast tomorrow and probably the rest of the week.

  And it was all Lincoln’s fault.

  I held the pillow over my face.

  No. It was mine. I never should’ve stopped at the burnt Grey Paws. That was what led to this entire blasted day.

  “Rise and shine, sis.”

  Light floated in from the hallway when I turned my head at the sound of my sweet brother’s voice.

  “Already?” I tossed the pillow away and tried to straighten out my attitude.

  “We can’t start off Monday grumpy,” he sing-songed. “That sets the tone for the rest of the week.”

  Argh. Why had I imparted those words of wisdom on him? I supposed so he could throw them back in my face now.

  “What’s for breakfast?” I forced myself out of bed and stretched.

  “Donuts,” he suggested hopefully.

  This was where I was supposed to say no and suggest something nutritious and filling. But I hadn’t slept and stuffing my face in a box of donuts sounded like the perfect way to get me moving.

  “I like it.” I high-fived him. “Now what color are we wearing today?”

  “Fuchsia.” He switched on the bedside lamp and bolted to my closet. In seconds, he found what he was looking for. “You look pretty in this dress.”

  My eyes stung at the compliment. No sleep didn’t help my emotions either. It was my brother’s sweet spirit and positive outlook no matter what that touched my soul. “Thanks, bow tie.”

  “You two are stunning today.”

  Eric and I each carried a box through the shop door.

  “Thanks, Garrison.” I set mine on the counter. This was our first stop and I was already dragging. The compliment helped, even if only temporarily.

  “Boy, am I glad to see your faces.” He slid the box toward him and cut it open. “I’m already out of what you brought Friday.”

  “Really?” Eric added his load to the counter. “People like it!” He beamed.

  “They do. And so do their dogs.” Garrison restocked the glass jars in a refrigerated case.

  I stepped back and examined the display. The product truly did look beautiful. It was surreal to see what Eric and I had worked so hard to build in an actual gourmet pet shop. Garrison’s Pet Gourmet—superior food for the four-legged. People came from all over the city to Garrison’s for his legendary treats. That he’d given us a chance—and coveted space—still hadn’t fully set in.

  “Can I have some treats for Millie?” Eric asked.

  I hid my smile. My brother could barter with the best of them.

  Garrison pulled out a tin from under the counter. “I had these ready for my favorite group of dogs.”

  “I bet you miss them now that they’re not just around the corner.”

  The tragedy of Grey Paws burning reached more than just the immediate circle. There was a hole that could never be filled in the neighborhood now.

  “I do,” he said thoughtfully. “I’ve made it over to the new place once, but it’s hard to carve out time with the shop being so busy.”

  I nodded. It wasn’t a bad problem to have, particularly in New York City. “We’d better let you get back to it.” I collected the empty boxes to reuse. “Thank you again for giving us some space in your shop.”

  He put his hands in the pockets of his apron. “Are you kidding? The dog food is officially my bestseller. It’s a fantastic partnership.” He cocked his head. “Just promise me when you get your own shop you’ll still let me sell your dog food.”

  I nearly dropped the boxes. Our own shop? We were so busy with word of mouth orders we hadn’t planned beyond what we were doing now. In so many ways, we were winging it. I could talk to Beau about helping us with business plans, but that seemed invasive to our friendship. She wouldn’t mind. Actually, she’d welcome the conversation, but I . . . I wasn’t ready to shift our relationship into something else. Besides, if she became involved we’d have an entire skyscraper on Fifth Avenue with plans to go global.

  “We’re not quite there yet,” I brushed off. “But we’d never forget your kindness.”

  “I’ll text you later about how much I need for tomorrow.”

  I tried to hide my excitement. It seemed we had a new steady customer. One who needed quantity.

  “Thank you for the treats.” Eric high-fived him and clutched the tin to his chest. “Millie’s going to be thrilled,” he said as we walked back to the van.

  “We’ll see her this afternoon.”

  “Are we opening our own shop? Can I work the register?”

  I slid open the van door and tossed the empty boxes inside. “One step at a time. But if we did, you could most definitely work the register.”

  “Cool.” He climbed into the passenger seat and kept the tin of treats in his lap. “We never got donuts.”

  I snickered at the reminder. “But you know where our next delivery is and what’s beside it.”

  He thought for a second before he lit up. “The Donut Hole!”

  I cranked up the van and “Me and Bobby McGee” picked up right where we’d left off. I glanced at my brother. What we had, the business we were building, I liked it. We had fun. We were out and about. We met nice people. I wasn’t sure a store was what we needed.

  But we’d figure it out.

  All that mattered was I had the best business partner in the world.

  Chapter Eleven

  Lincoln

  “Are you humming that Bobby McGee song?”

  I glared at Beau over the contract I studied. Of course I hadn’t been humming. I didn’t hum.

  “I can’t get that blasted song out of my head either,” she said before I could respond.

  Did I actually hum?

  “The terms of this offer aren’t aggressive enough.” I set the papers on my desk.

  Beau plopped into one of the chairs opposite me. “A two-day close isn’t aggressive enough?”

  “I’ve dealt with this man a lot. He likes to feel like he’s the one gaining the most from the transaction.”

  “Everyone likes to feel that way.”

  I leaned back. Wasn’t that pure truth? But that was the fun of real estate. Figuring out the exact term I was willing to concede but made the other party feel like they had the upper hand.

  “I don’t think we should move forward with this.” Beau propped her feet on my desk.

  I’d missed her. On opposite shores of the Atlantic Ocean, together we’d built a real estate empire. We bought, sold, and developed both commercial and residential projects. And I’d missed the debates and strategy sessions that had taken our company to the next level. They simply weren’t the same on the phone or video chat.

  I hadn’t figured out a way to keep her in the city, something I should probably recruit Teague to help with. But I dreaded when she went back to London. I knew my sister well enough not to say that or she’d be on the first flight out of here.

  “What he’s asking isn’t a bad deal.” I glanced behind me at the gray Manhattan skyline. It matched my mood.

  “I know.” She sighed. “But
I didn’t like what we saw in the tour. There were some cosmetic things that looked all right on the surface, though I’m pretty sure they were just Band-Aids for bigger problems.”

  I was impressed she’d noticed. Beau might actually be better at the real estate business than I was, despite that I had six years more experience. She’d made our UK office what it was single-handedly and created a fantastic portfolio of properties not only throughout Europe, but on a global scale.

  “There’s room in the price to make repairs and still be profitable.”

  She folded her hands on her lap. “I don’t have a good feeling about it.”

  I trusted her instincts implicitly. In this instance, they didn’t matter. I was moving forward with this deal.

  “It’s an opportunity to expand to a new area.”

  “I agree we should explore the area, but this isn’t the property to do it.”

  It was the best one I’d found on the market. There wasn’t time to pursue off-market options.

  “We need to seize on what’s available,” I said evenly.

  “Why are you so attached to this place?”

  Leave it to my sister to see through my motives. “I’ve made an empire with my methods.” And because I wanted it now.

  She narrowed her gaze. “We’ve made an empire.”

  “Yes. We have.” I didn’t want an unnecessary argument with Beau. She was a greater asset to the business than I was. “My point is that this is how I operate.”

  “I’ve worked with you almost fifteen years. I know exactly how you operate.”

  “Not on an in-person basis.” Why was I engaging in this discussion? Had I not just thought I wanted to avoid an escalation? “Change the offer to include paying all closing costs.”

  She dropped her feet to the floor. “Are we trying to give away the farm here?” She shook her head. “No way. That’s a generous offer. More than fair. We’re in the business of making money.”

  “We don’t deal in farms.” It was a petty, ridiculous response. One that could further confirm her suspicions that something was off with me.

  “What’s this about?”

  I’d already evaded her earlier question and fully intended to again.