Page 47 of Smith

Jonas was dark to Smith’s light. Dark hair, dark beard, heavy dark brows that highlighted his blue eyes.

“I didn’t see any sponsorships,” Jonas abruptly changed the topic.

“Pardon?”

“I watched your channel. You don’t stop in the middle of your videos like a lot of people to pitch a product.”

“You’re right, I don’t.”

From the beginning, that was a conscious decision and I’d turned down every company that approached me with brand deals and sponsorships.

“Holding out for more money?” Jonas went on.

I could see how he’d think that but he was wrong. I grabbed a jab saw from the tools Jonas had placed together and stood holding it out.

“See this?” I waved the saw in front of me. “Twenty-one-ninety-nine from Ace Hardware. I’ve used this brand for years, it does the job. It’s affordable. If a viewer asks about it, I can give an honest opinion. I’m not beholden to a company. I don’t have to mislead, or worse, flat out lie because I’m under contract. I make money from my channel, but I make it honestly. At the end of the day, I have to look myself in the mirror and feel good about myself and I like going to sleep at night knowing I didn’t sell out. I’m me. I’ll always be me. Money is meaningless if you have to sell out to make it. I prefer to earn it.”

Jonas’s study of me became acute. It lasted only a few moments before his attention went to Smith.

“Makes sense,” Jonas said to me but was still staring at Smith.

“Attic,” Smith grunted, then turned on his boots and left the bedroom.

“What was that?” I asked.

To my shock, Jonas answered.

“That was Smith rethinking his life choices.”

That didn’t sound good.

“What?”

“Nothing, darlin’. Let’s get crackin’ on this drywall.”

Since his suggestion sounded more like the end of the conversation I didn’t push. Plus the sooner we finished the tear out the sooner I could spend more money to replace perfectly good sheetrock.

Yay me.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

This was the very definition ofnotkeeping my personal and private life separate.

Something I’d made an art of for the last two decades. No woman sinceherhad been invited to meet my friends, especially not the women they were dating. That only led to messy. Women bonded. They formed friendships that would outlast the week or two a particular woman would be spending in my bed.

Aria meeting Jonas was an anomaly, a byproduct of her situation. Her sitting in the conference room across from Kira and Ivy was a goddamn nightmare.

The sisterhood initiation had started.

The bond was clicking into place and getting stronger the longer they chatted.

Messy was thirty minutes ago.

The current state of play was nearing DEFCON-fucked.

I knew this shit would happen as soon as Kira called this morning to tell me Zane wanted us in the office for a briefing before we headed over the bridge to Aria’s house.

I should’ve disobeyed the order.

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