Best (Change Series Book 3)

by Melanie Jayne

  “Thank you.” I wanted to say something more, but I didn’t know quite how to phrase it. “You won’t talk about my history, will you?”

  “No, not until you’re ready,” Tony said.

  “I meant with me, but thank you. I don’t want you to look at me like I’m a victim,” I said, rushing the words.

  The men were both quiet. I got the feeling they were trying to decide who would answer.

  Forde won, or maybe lost. “You’re a survivor. That’s something we all have in common.” His eyes flashed again. “When you get to know us better, you’ll learn that both Zoe and Lay have been through shit, too.”

  Again, my eyes widened.

  “Not as bad as you, but we all deal with our pasts. I think when you’re ready to share, you’ll find that we can help you.”

  Forde sounded so wise. I took comfort in that. “I’ll tell them. Just not yet. Except for right after it happened, and to my different doctors, I haven’t talked about it with people.” I dropped my gaze.

  “I did the same thing. It’s nice to feel like you have a clean slate with your new friends, doesn’t it?” Tony looked relaxed in the chair that he was now sprawled in.

  But I sensed that he was tense. “I hate being treated with pity. I even hate the word,” I said with vehemence.

  “The thing is,” Forde said, taking over smoothly, “your friends are going to sense that wall around you. Then it becomes a dirty secret and a ‘thing’.”

  I knew he was right. “I’ll work on getting to where I can talk about it,” I promised.

  “Then all that I have to say is, welcome aboard, darlin’.” Tony’s smile was full of warmth.

  Forde stood. “I’ll have Lay email you the standard forms. I usually run things through Jenn, but I’ll set everything up myself.”

  I stood also. “I appreciate all of this, and what you’re doing for me.”

  “You deserve good things,” Forde said as he escorted me to the door.

  I followed Tony into reception.

  Layla had a huge smile on her face. “Well?”

  “She’s in,” Tony answered, waggling his eyebrows.

  Layla got to her feet. “That’s great news.”

  “Thank you for everything,” I told her, pulling her in for a hug. She hugged me back, and it felt really good.

  When we let go, she traveled back to her desk, “Ready to go?”

  “Uh, go where?” I hadn’t thought she’d shove me out of the office so brashly.

  “To celebrate, of course.” She started shutting things down, and then grabbed her purse.

  “This group likes to celebrate a lot,” Tony announced. I could tell he didn’t mind.

  “Come on,” Layla said as she passed me.

  “What’s going on?” I dug in and didn’t move. “What do you have planned?” I needed to know what was going on.

  “Do you have something scheduled for tonight?” she asked at the front door.

  “Nooo,” I said, but I guessed I was going to learn that I did.

  “Then come on. You’re going to drive me to our place, and Zoe and Livy are going to meet us.”

  “And when we get done here, we’ll be over,” Tony said.

  “To celebrate you joining our staff,” Forde said from the doorway.

  I hadn’t even heard him opening the door.

  I shrugged. “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go.” I followed Layla out into the hall. I threw up a silent prayer that I would soon be able to roll with these people. That I would be able to trust them when the time came.

  Chapter Eight

  Tye

  I stretched my legs, dropped them onto my desk, and leaned back in my chair. It had been a shit day. Hell, it had been a shit week. I should have guessed that Veronica Shane would reconcile with her dick of a husband on the day of the hearing. The plastic surgeon husband had started making real money three years ago, and we’d found no evidence of anyone steady on the side, whispering promises if only he would shed his family…

  He’d probably looked at the layout for monthly child support—all three kids were under the age of six—and alimony for Lara. It was no surprise he’d had a change of heart and immediately fallen back in love with his wife. The sad thing was that she’d be back. I’d give it eight, no, maybe thirteen months, tops.

  I closed my eyes. They felt gritty and itched. “Why the fuck are people so predictable?” I tried to make my body relax. I was tired of this shit. Weary of watching couples come apart, people who once loved, now hating each other.

  “Another good reason,” I growled. Shit like this made it crystal clear why I was never going to be in a relationship. I wasn’t going to go through this.

  I let out an evil laugh. Wouldn’t my brethren in the bar association love that? Tyler Burke getting dragged through the mud by his wife? Nope. Not going to happen. I’d continue keeping hookups short and easy.

  “Hey.” Forde’s deep voice interrupted my thoughts.

  I dropped my legs. “Come on in,” I said, motioning him inside.

  He moved a stack of files off of the chair in front of my desk. My office was messy, but I liked it that way. I could find everything, and besides, very few people were invited in.

  “I’m getting ready to head out and thought I’d stop in to make sure you’re coming.”

  “Yeah, I need to tie up a few things, and then I’m out.”

  Forde relaxed back into his chair. “So, I hired that friend of Lay’s, Billie.”

  “I’ll mark that one off my list.” But it could be entertaining having the beauty working right next door.

  Forde’s eyebrows lowered as he glared at me. “Tell your guys not to push her.” Forde crossed his arms over his chest.

  His warning felt odd. I was used to him warning me away but my guys? “She claimed?” Too bad, she would at least have been fun to flirt with.

  “Just put out the word—no pressure, no hotboxing.” Forde smoothly got to his feet.

  That he was being so blunt with his warning meant he was deadly serious. “Sure, I’ll tell them.”

  Forde started to leave but stopped at my door. “And Tye, get some rest. You look like shit.” He left on that positive note.

  He was probably right. I’d kept busy, trying to burn off stress and excess energy, but I still wasn’t sleeping. Maybe a couple of hours with friends and Livy might do me some good. I made some notes for upcoming meetings, and then sent the necessary e-mails to my admin and two of my associates. I grabbed my suit coat, dropped a few work files into my messenger bag, and left my office.

  I used the key card to park in the garage at Forde’s building, where he and Layla lived. My brother didn’t like to talk about his wealth. I didn’t get it. He was a self-made millionaire. Hell, he’d shared his gift for making money with the rest of us. That was another way that we differed. Forde wasn’t flashy, nor did he brag. I, on the other hand, lived in a huge house on the water, one of the premier addresses in the city. He didn’t throw parties, nor go to events. My New Year’s Eve party was popular, and I used it as a tax write off by benefitting a charity. I didn’t mind getting my photo in the Indianapolis Star or a legal journal.

  Forde was more like my dad, quiet and cool, and I don’t know where my personality came from because, by all accounts, my mother was shy and said even less than my dad. She’d died when I was two. I didn’t remember her at all.

  I pulled into an open spot and killed my engine. I took off my tie, unbuttoned another button on my shirt, and rolled up the sleeves of my blue, oxford-cloth shirt. Pocketing my keys, I grabbed my cell and headed toward the elevator.

  The door to Forde and Layla’s condo was propped open. They didn’t really need to worry about security tonight. Likely all of the guys from Limited were packing, and the man sitting at the main entrance didn’t let you up unless you were on the list, or he got clearance from the tenant or Forde. As I walked through the door, I could tell somebody had been busy in the k
itchen.

  “Uncle Tye. Hey, Uncle Tye!” Ryan McReynolds was making his way toward me. Forde’s son was getting ready to start college in the fall in Bloomington. His mother and grandfather weren’t happy with the kid’s decision to be so close to Forde, but I thought it served them right. It was bullshit the way they’d conspired to keep Forde in the dark regarding the existence of his son—all in the name of enriching their ranch holdings. Ryan threw himself into my arms.

  “When did you get in?” The kid usually called for a ride from the airport. He preferred my sports car to his father’s SUV. He slapped me on the back a couple of times, and then let me go. God, he looked like a younger version of Forde. I swear that he’d grown an inch and was still skinny, with his father’s eyes and hair a shade lighter than Forde’s darkest brown.

  “Around noon. I took an Uber ’cause I knew you had a case.”

  “Bet you caught hell for that.” I chuckled. Forde couldn’t be happy that his boy had used transportation he considered unsecure.

  Ryan rolled his eyes. “I can take care of myself.”

  I flashed him a grin. “Meet me in the gym tomorrow morning at seven, and we’ll see about that.”

  “I’ll be there,” he promised, totally serious. He leaned in a little and dropped the volume of his voice. “Have you met Limited’s new receptionist?”

  “Yeah, briefly.” I was hoping to deepen that acquaintance very soon, even if she was off limits.

  Ryan nodded his head. “She is totally hot. She helped me in the kitchen, so I was talking to her.” He gave me that man-to-man look, the one when fellas talked about a big score.

  “What? Did you ask her out?” Unexpectedly, a surge of jealousy hit me. I hated to admit it, but this kid was charming, and he liked women.

  He shot me an “Are you kidding?” look. “Hey, I’m smoother than that. First, I found out if she had a boyfriend, and then I asked her out.” He flashed a cocky grin.

  “What’d she say?” I was curious how she would handle the eighteen-year-old son of her boss and friend.

  Ryan gave an unconcerned shoulder shrug, “She said it wouldn’t be fair to the other college girls. She bet a lot would want to date me. But in ten years, if we’re both single, then she’d go out with me.”

  Suppressing a smile, I knew he’d already marked his calendar, and he’d probably hold her to it.

  “She’s probably right about the college girls,” I murmured. “If I.U. is anything like Vandy, then you could be very busy.”

  “I don’t know. I like ’em with experience,” Ryan said, with more confidence than I needed to hear.

  “Yeah? Well just remember to keep it covered. I’m not ready to be a great uncle just yet.”

  “No problem.” Ryan grimaced. “Besides, it’d be really weird having a kid the same age as my dad’s.”

  Curiosity satisfied and favorite uncle advice dispensed, I slung an arm around his shoulder. “Which way’s the food?”

  He led me to the breakfast bar.

  I grabbed some veggies and headed to where Billie sat with Zoe and her daughter. It was a striking picture. Billie’s white-blonde head leaned close to Livy’s dark one. “So, this is where the beautiful ladies are hiding.”

  “And yet somehow you found us…” Zoe teased. She motioned for me to take a seat.

  I turned to Billie. “Why do you get to bogart the baby?” I feigned hurt feelings.

  Billie smiled. “Didn’t you hear? This party is for me, so I get to hold Livy.” She went back to cuddling Zoe’s daughter.

  Zoe put her glass of wine on the coffee table. “She’ll change her mind the moment Livy starts screaming.”

  Billie covered the baby’s ears. “Don’t listen to them, sweetie. I might join you.” She then gave Zoe a “take that” nod.

  I kept my expression serious. “I usually end up with the screaming baby. Does this mean I’ll get to hold you, too?” I knew that I took her by surprise by the look on her face, equal parts intrigued and measuring.

  “I don’t think you can handle the both of us.” Then she flashed a smile that made my cock stir.

  I liked that she could dish it out. “But I’d like to try.”

  Billie turned the baby to face her on her lap. “Oh, Livy,” she said, frowning and shaking her head, “that’s what all the men say, and then they don’t put in any effort. They see, they talk big, but then rarely deliver. Remember that for when you start dating.”

  Zoe patted my knee. “Sucks to be you.”

  “I can tell when I’m not appreciated,” I teased. “Where’s Layla?”

  Zoe looked over her shoulder. “She’s probably in the kitchen.”

  Billie scooted forward on the sofa. “Here.” She stood and handed me the baby. “I’ll go see what needs doing and send her out to sit down.”

  Unable to stop myself, I watched her walk away. The tight skirt and high heels did amazing things to her ass. I swear Livy sensed I wasn’t giving her my full attention, because at that moment she screeched.

  “My daughter doesn’t like you two-timing her,” Zoe raising her voice to be heard over the caterwauling.

  “A man can look,” I muttered, then lifted the baby into the air and brought her down to my eye level quickly.

  She made an “arrrr” sound.

  “Sure you’re ready so soon after Holly?” Zoe went straight to the point.

  Fuck the Holly thing. I never should have pursued her. “That wasn’t serious,” I told Zoe as I continued playing with her daughter while hoping she would drop this topic.

  “Yeah, but you two spent a lot of time together.”

  “You know me.” I shrugged and gave what I hoped was an easygoing smile. “There are plenty of lonely ladies out there.”

  Zoe studied me. “I don’t think Billie’s like your lonely ladies. She’s not the random type. I think she’d want more...how should I say it?” She paused. “More substance.”

  I raised and lowered Livy a few more times in quick succession. “Yeah, I get that feeling, too.” Not a hook-up. But I could still talk and hang out with her, if she was cool. I could place her squarely in the same category as my staff, the wives, and Jenn.

  The food had been eaten, and the baby put to bed in Forde’s guestroom. Osi and Rick left to do whatever it was they did, and somehow I ended up in the kitchen with Billie. I was hunting for another brownie, and she was cleaning up. It was the first chance I’d found to be alone with her that night.

  “Hey, I don’t think the guest of honor is supposed to be doing cleanup,” I said as I scanned the counter for the dessert.

  “It’s not a big deal.” Without looking my way, she scraped a serving platter into the sink.

  I moved closer. “Are you hiding?”

  She bent and loaded the platter into the dishwasher. “Maybe.”

  I resisted the urge to check out her ass. “If you tell me where you stashed the brownies, I’ll help.” Now, don’t get me wrong. The kitchen was not my favorite place to hang, but Billie intrigued me. Most women screamed for my attention. She didn’t.

  Her hand paused for a second as she reached for the next tray, and she looked me in the eye. “Okay, hotshot, I put them in the fridge to firm up the frosting, second or third shelf. Get your sugar fix, and then get to work.” She began rinsing the next platter.

  “It sounds like they’re safe for now. If you promise not to tell anybody else where they are, namely Ryan, I’ll start now.” I took the platter from her hands and loaded it.

  “Deal.”

  I could tell she was smiling, but she didn’t flash it in my direction. I congratulated myself as I stood waiting for her to pass dishes, savoring the opportunity to drink her in. Her profile was lovely—the slight tilt of her nose, the firm curve of her generous breasts... “So what’s a girl who looks she belongs on a beach doing here?”

  “Somebody’s been snooping.” She didn’t stop cleaning or even give me a glance.

  “Not snooping,” I chi
ded. “Layla told me you moved her from Denver, like Zoe. A Colorado girl, huh? Why Indianapolis, now?”

  “A mutual friend said Indy was a good place to live, nice people, four seasons...” She handed me the platter.

  “We are good people,” I said.

  We continued in silence for a few minutes, long enough to load the dishwasher to capacity. I was filling it with detergent when I heard her sigh.

  “Go on and say it,” she muttered.

  “I’m having trouble picturing you in a winter coat—now, in a wetsuit by a surfboard, absolutely.” Was she reading my thoughts or was I was telegraphing them? I tried to recall how many beers I’d had.

  She chuckled, a sound that was a little deeper than her speaking voice and sexy. “The same could be said for you.” She turned sideways and leaned her hip against the counter.

  Her gaze swept over my body. “I’m just not sure if it would be surf or snow.”

  I gave my signature smile. “I do both.”

  She dried her hands on a towel. “Well, I think you’ve earned your reward. How many brownies do you want?”

  I watched her walk to the refrigerator. An idea hit me, so I followed her, and after she had collected the container, I snagged a bottle of champagne. I held it up. “Time to celebrate.”

  “Do you people always celebrate a clean kitchen?” She tilted her head and bit the edge of her full bottom lip to keep from laughing.

  “Only happens in this place.” I crossed to the counter across the room that was now clear, dug in the drawer for wine opener, and started to open the bottle.

  She reached for a plate in an overhead cabinet.

  I then moved to where Layla kept the mugs. The champagne glasses were stored in the dining area, and I didn’t want to leave. I liked this moment we were sharing. It was casual, yet I was totally focused on this woman.

  She carried a plate filled with brownies to the small built-in booth Layla had added a few months ago.

  I joined her, sitting on the opposite side. She wasn’t giving out a flirty vibe, just friendly and a little shy. So, mindful of Forde’s warning, I didn’t want to crowd her. I filled our mugs and held mine up. “To you, I hope you find what you’re looking for here.”