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“It’s all right, Uncle Dex. Can’t do much but read and hang out at the pool in this heat,” he says in that lazy way boys do when they’re teetering on adolescence. Colt shows me his manga comic—something I never got into with all the talking skeletons and steampunk drama—and sits obediently on the sofa when Archer points to it.

“Put on your headphones, bud. I need to talk to your uncle,” Archer says. He’s a coldhearted brute, my brother, but I’ll give him one thing—he never sets a bad example in front of Colt.

He also protects the kid from the three of us tearing at each other like deranged wolverines. I’m grateful for that.

Too bad it also means there’s a chance he’ll soon be severing my head from my neck.

Colt sends me a glance that tells me he knows exactly what’s going on before popping in his earbuds and turning his music up.Good kid.

“Just what the fuck was that?” Archer demands. He’s a couple inches taller than me, but I’m broader, so I just fold my arms and let him stride up to me and get in my face. “Patton said you were meeting with her here, but I didn’t think it was tocanoodle.”

“Canoodle? Really? That’s the best you can come up with?”

“This is not a game, Dex.” He grits his teeth. “This bullshit didn’t jibe with me from the beginning. You and Pat, you had the votes, so what could I do but give it a chance? Still. Throw me a goddamned bone. Prove to me I haven’t lost my mind for trusting you.”

“Yes, it was a vote, wasn’t it?” I remind him. “That’s what you get for having a democracy.”

Archer glowers, but even he can’t argue against the process when we set the company up. Fair’s fair.

“I’m quadruple-checking everything with Haute,” he says. “Don’t think it’s just you cleaning up your mess that has me concerned.”

“Arch, get a grip.” I roll my eyes and fling myself back in my chair behind the desk. I put my pen back in its holder. “The deal’s all but done except for the ink drying. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Sure, but that’s not everything.” Archer sits in the only remaining chair, the flash of anger gone. He’s back to talking business like a normal nonviolent human. “I need to know what the hell Haute really wants. He’s not asking for anything yet except a predictable cut of the profits. Didn’t even jack up the old Mill’s price, and you know how fast this market moves, especially in the summer.”

My entirejobis knowing how the market is.

“Right. So far, his only input on running the property involves his damn sweets,” I say, frustrated that all things come back to Juniper Winkley.

How the fuck did I almost kiss her? What would have happened if my jackass brother hadn’t stomped through the door?

He runs a hand through his short dark hair.

“Something isn’t right here, Dex. Convinced or not, he shouldn’t be making it this easy.”

I shrug slowly, annoyed that he might be right.

“He’s not exactly shy with his demands. If he’s expecting more than sending our guests into a sugar coma, wouldn’t he just come out and say it?”

Archer says nothing.

His brows sink low as he thinks, searching for a reason to back out and torpedo the whole thing.

“There’s always a chance Haute just wants to be done with it since his loft project hasn’t panned out. Hand off the deadweight, get paid, and collect some easy ongoing revenue. Doesn’t need to be more complicated than that,” I venture.

“That’s what worries me. We’ll see.”

I want to believe in my own optimism, dammit.

Trouble is, my gut tells me Arch might have a point.

Something’s not quite right with all this, and if we don’t figure it out, who knows what the price could be.

What else will this deal cost me, besides my sanity, all thanks to one infuriatingly beautiful woman?

9

SWEET ON YOU (JUNIPER)

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