Page 12 of Just a Distraction

“Yes.”

“You’re a serial killer?”

I can’t help laughing. “I meant yes, as in if I tell you I’ve gotten pepper-sprayed

then you’ll think someone felt threatened by me and that opens up a crazy can of worms.”

“So you have?” She makes a show of taking a huge step back and away from me,

a cringe appearing on her face.

“No. I haven’t. But my brother has. He used to be in the army. They did all kinds

of things to him to toughen him up.”

“Did it work?”

“Something did. He’s basically Hercules now.” I shrug. “Okay, well now that

we’ve got all the safety protocols in place, my favorite NFL team—”

She quickly places a hand over my mouth. I stumble back, but her body comes with me, continuing to press against me as she struggles to gain her footing. “Shh. Let me try to guess.” With a little laugh, she drops her hand. “Because I’m getting some serious vibes, and I want to know if I’m right.”

The streetlamp above us shines like a spotlight. A couple holding hands passes us, and a breeze lifts the leaves on the orange and yellow trees that line the sidewalk.

Close to me, she looks up at me with a grin, her dark-brown hair coming out of her large clip every which way.

I find it hard to speak as I breathe in her crisp, cucumber soap scent.

Finally, I manage, “What are your guesses?”

“Does the quarterback’s name rhyme with Laker Bayweild?”

“Laker Bayweild? Like Baker Mayfield?” I scoff. “Wrong.”

“So not Tampa Bay. Okay. We’re narrowing it down.” She nods, like she’s readying herself for a big exam. Or a spot onJeopardy!

Her mention of Tampa Bay has me thinking about Florida, which is where my surprise half-brother Benson was born. The thought twists my gut in two. He was born there after his mother had a brief relationship with my dad when he was in college. It was before my mom came along, but still. I haven’t figured out how I feel about it.

I was pretty much fine with it all. But then my dad surprised me this morning, saying I needed to choose which job I’m going to take. The way he mentioned Benson struck me as odd. Like he might offer something to Benson, as well.

I got all kinds of territorial. About the job. About my father.

And now I don’t know what to do. Let Benson take the position, and I go work for my brother, Sebastian, at Tate International in Longdale? Would Sebastian offer something to Benson if I take the job with our dad?

Sebastian, the oldest son of our parents, Thomas and Celine Tate, started his resort company, Tate International, over ten years ago. Dad had asked him to work for him at Foundations Financial, but Sebastian always wanted to do his own thing. Over the years, one by one, our brothers have joined him at his company in one capacity or another.

And now it’s my turn to decide. Join my brothers at Tate? Or be the only son to work for our father?

Gabriel, my mom and dad’s fourth son, did for a long while, but that arrangement ended, and now, it feels like I’m Dad’s only hope for a successor.

Whatever I decide to do is going to be wrong. And not just because I’ll be letting someone down either way. It’ll be wrong because I want to do something else entirely for a career.

But I’m not talking to anyone in my life about that.

Rose taps her rosebud mouth with her finger. “Hmm. Did they win the Super Bowl within the last five years?”

I snort. “In my dreams.”

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