Page 3 of Tributary

CHAPTER THREE

Diana

MY PHONE STARTS ringing again, and I groan, realizing I just hit my mother’s investor in the face with a shovel full of snow, then laughed at him. I yank off my glove again to answer the phone. “Ma,” I say around the glove in my teeth. “Yes, actually, I do know where your investor is…No, it’s fine. I’ll bring him back to your place.”

I hang up with my mother, who has convinced my father not to carve out a path to the college, just in time to panic about Wexler disappearing from under her roof. I raise another brow at the guy, who is still standing there staring at me in the snow.

I sigh. “My parents are worried about you,” I tell him. I decide I’ve shoveled enough and lean into my shop to toss the gear inside. I shout over my shoulder, “I’m just going to lock up and then I’ll make sure you get back to the Crawford House.”

I jump when I realize he’s right behind me, peering over my shoulder into the little store front. “Houseplant Haven,” he asks. “Never heard of that as a business model before. Tell me about your work.”

He stands inside the front door, dripping snow in the warm air inside. I keep the temperature pretty high for my babies in the back. The philodendrons up front seem to appreciate it. “Well,” I start, not making eye contact as I walk over to pull up my growhouse controls on my laptop. “I take care of people’s plants when they go out of town,” I tell him. “Or I offer them consultations when they need help coaxing something back to life. I also grow a few herbs and sell them.”

He snorts. I ignore him as I set the timers for irrigation and temperature control, switching everything over to the app I commissioned from my brother’s computer friend so I can monitor everything from my cell phone in case I wind up stuck at my parents’ house. Asa sniffs at a pot of marjoram. “You’re telling me that’s profitable model? Even in this town I find that hard to believe.”

“This town? What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” I slam the laptop shut as he makes his way around the counter to snoop. “I didn’t invite you back behind the counter, Wexler.”

He holds his hands up. ”Woah. My apologies. I’m just curious. You know I take an interest in people’s businesses. Your mom and brother can vouch for me.”

I shake my head and start wrapping up again for the walk. “Just because my mom and brother think the sun shines out your ass, don’t assume I trust you.” I’m not even sure why I’m being so short with him. My stomach growls, and I decide I’m getting hangry.

When I finally do look up at him, I’m surprised to see a crooked grin on his face. I study the parts of him I can see through all his layers. It’s a damn shame he’s in business with my family, because he’s just the sort of man I drive out of town to find every month or so. Tall, cocky, dark hair…I take the train to the city every time I get an urge, and pick up this sort of man, who won’t call me ever again and doesn’t pry into my personal life.

“We better head back before it gets dark,” I tell him. “I’m supposed to make sure you get home safely.”

He raises a brow at me, his blue eyes dancing with delight now. “Shouldn’t it be me seeing you home safely?”

“Not in this town.”

We crunch through the snow together in our snow shoes. I hear the rumble of the maintenance crew getting closer, but it’ll be ages before the streets and walks are cleared. I love the silence of a big snow like this, the sense that the world is small and contained. Everything is as it seems right now—which is to say cold and still.

We pass my brother Hunter’s place on our way, and I tell Wexler to hang on a second while I check on Hunter’s girlfriend, Abigail. Of course, Asa follows me to their front door. I see the lights on inside but nobody comes to the door for a few beats after I knock.

I bite my lip, wondering if I should be concerned, but then I see Abigail hustling to the door on the other side of the duplex. She pokes her head out the door. “Hey, Diana! I was just checking on the girls,” she says.

“Girls?” Wexler looks thoroughly confused, peering behind Abigail to Hunter’s half of the duplex, which is filled with computers and weightlifting equipment. They spend most of their time living on Abigail’s side.

“She means the chickens,” I tell him. I look back at Abigail, “Did you bring them inside again?” When she grimaces, I sigh. “You know they have down feathers, right? They’ll be ok, Abigail.”

She waves off my words, saying, “I just want to make sure. So anyway, thanks for stopping by, but I’m neck deep in my revisions. I’m going to hole up and write for the rest of the blizzard.”

“You sure? Dad’s making stuffed cabbage, apparently.”

Abigail shrugs and starts closing the door, already focused back on her work.

Asa Wexler looks at me in wonder as I start back down the path to the road. “Doesn’t she work with your mother on investment strategy at the college? Isn’t she banging Hunter Crawford?”

“Banging? Seriously?”

He shakes his head, then wobbles in the snow. Righting himself, he says, “I thought we were speaking comfortably with one another, since you threw snow in my face and all.” His grin is pretty sexy. Definitely a grin I’d go for if he were a man I was seeking to scratch an itch. But I can’t be thinking nasty thoughts about my family’s business associates.

“Abigail is my brother’s beloved. I think that’s the term he’s using these days. And she’s writing a novel. Between you and me, I think she will quit working for my mom once it gets published. I’ve read it. It’s good.”

“You know, Wexler Holdings has some sway in the publishing industry,” he says. “I’m happy to put in a good word for her.”

“I’m sure Abigail is just fine without your interference.” As soon as I say it, I realize that might be a notch too harsh. But damn it, I’m tired from all the shoveling and this guy has me unsettled. We get a few blocks from my parents’ house and I can see the progress my father made with the tractor. I stoop to remove my boots, catching a glimpse of Wexler’s backside as he bends in front of me to do the same. I can see the seams of Fletcher’s old snow gear straining a bit and try to stop focusing on this guy’s ass. My brother’s a pretty big guy, and I can tell Asa Wexler has an inch or so on him.

“Enjoying the view?” He straightens and slings his snow shoes and mine over his shoulder, catching me in a blush as he walks on ahead. Damn him. I hurry to catch up as he makes his way up the driveway and into the golden light streaming through the kitchen door.

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