Page 8 of Work with Me

“I’m fine. Though my dissertation project isn’t going as well as I’d hoped. It’s really hard, you know?”

“I barely got my bachelor’s. What you’re doing is hard, but you can do it. You’re the smartest of us all.”

She snorted, but I could tell she was hiding a smile. “Tell that to Mother.”

“I will, next time I talk to her.” Which wouldn’t be until Thanksgiving if I could help it.

Her half-smile fell. “I wish I could come to Texas.”

I jumped up and paced around the tree. “Why? What’s wrong? That asshole Stephen isn’t bothering you again, is he? Because I’ll fly back there and—”

“No, no. I just mean that Mother can be a lot. I could use some distance. Someday…”

My little sister was a lot like me, but she hadn’t developed my fuck-it attitude toward our mother. “Don’t let her bully you. And maybe distance is all you need from your project. You know our brains don’t work the same as other people’s. Take a drive. Or a run. Spend some time outside.”

One corner of her mouth lifted. “You always excelled at escaping tough situations.”

“Hey, I’m not saying it’s the healthiest coping strategy, but maybe you need a break. Hell, I’ll fly you here, Samwise. We can go to a honky-tonk bar. Drink tequila until we puke.” Having a friendly face in Austin would be a relief after months of having people walk on eggshells around the company founder. At least at headquarters, they considered me a fuckup, nothing to be afraid of. Weston—and even Cooper—had made sure of that.

“That’s nice of you to offer, but I’ll pass. Too much to do here. Maybe I’ll take Bilbo Baggins on a long walk, though.”

“Okay.” I didn’t let my disappointment show on my face. “But if you need anything, you call me.”

“Got it. When are you coming home?”

“Maybe Thanksgiving. Definitely Christmas.” Cooper said we had to finish development by mid-November. I hoped that would end my exile. Then I could check on my sister in person.

“Good. I miss you. Love you, Jackson.”

“Love you, too, Samwise.”

I sighed out a deep breath. I’d call her and check up again next week. Make sure she was sleeping. I wished I could help with her programming. We used to program silly games together, full of magic and swordplay. I’d had a blast teaching my little sister to code. But she was right; she’d lapped me in her expertise. Programming was one of the things I was best at, but now even Cooper had lost faith in my skill.

I trudged to the wooden picnic table where Cooper had settled. Most of the day’s heat had gone down with the sun, but it was still broiling for a couple of guys who’d grown up in the cool summers of Northern California. My AC/DC T-shirt stuck to my back. Cooper had rolled up his sleeves.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you all day.” Cooper looked down at my feet. “What the fuck are those?”

“My boots?” I dropped onto the bench and propped up one foot to admire the ostrich vamp. That was what the cute girl at the boot store had told me to call the part that ran from the toe to the ankle, where the shaft started. We’d joked a lot about the shaft. But I’d bought my boots and left, declining to take her number. For all I knew, she’d show up the next day as our new receptionist. Which reminded me of how I’d almost fucked up with Alicia.

“I don’t want to talk about the fucking boots. I want to talk about how you hired a consultant without telling me.” One I’d almost asked out before I’d learned she worked in our building. I replayed our first few minutes together. The silkiness of her straight blond hair when I brushed it off her forehead. Her smooth skin, marred by that freakishly sharp piece of ice. Her prim black suit, nipped in at all the right places, paired with those sky-high dominatrix heels. A naughty schoolteacher-fantasy-in-distress that lit up all my buttons. But I wasn’t about to repeat the mistake I’d made with Callie.

“You want to do this now?” His blue eyes glittered with ice chips. “Fine. The way you acted this afternoon was inexcusable. Yes, we’re partners. And friends. But I won’t allow you to undermine me or my decisions. Which includes Alicia.”

“Only a fucking asshole springsthaton his best friend in front of his team.” Was it even my team anymore?

He had the grace to look embarrassed. “Sorry, Jay, I know it was less than ideal. I should’ve handled it better. I didn’t know how to tell you without—”

“How about, ‘Now you’ve managed to fuck up the one thing you used to be good at, so we’ll bring in some rando off the street to fix it for you. Anyone could do it better than you, Jay.’”

“She’s not a rando,” Cooper growled. “She’s fully qualified and certified, and she has a glowing recommendation from Jamila. You trust Mila, don’t you?”

I didn’t trust her if she was going to recommend someone who was clearly my kryptonite to work with me. Had Cooper told Jamila what’d happened in May, and now she was trying to punish me for it? But why would she do that? We were friends. Not like she and Cooper were, with their on-again, off-again dating. Last week, she’d come to see me here, in exile. She’d taken me out for tacos and hadn’t said a word about Callie. Or Alicia Weber.

Was it a coincidence that she’d recommended Alicia, smart, competent, and maybe a good coder, too, who’d make going into the office a daily torture? Someone—the universe, maybe?—had set me up to fail.

No. I’d done it. I’d done it to myself by fucking up. If I hadn’t gotten drunk that night, I wouldn’t be in Austin. I’d never have met Alicia Weber or been replaced by her.

Our number squawked out over the speaker, interrupting the Randy Travis song.

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