Page 27 of Charm

Tim must have sent that text the moment he walked out of the restaurant. James has been working his ass off trying to set up a meeting between Tim and us for months. When I heard that Tim would be in East Hampton for the weekend, I made sure I would be here, too.

I lured him to this restaurant with the promise that I’d make it worth his while. I did that and more since he left after shaking my hand on a deal that will put a seven figure payout in his bank account once the sale of his company is finalized.

“What did the message say?” I play along because making Jameson suffer is part of my job as his older brother.

“Nothing.” He chuckles nervously. “Call your brother. That’s it. Did you fuck up things with him, Holden? I’ve been trying to set up a meeting with him for a hell of a long time. I want his company. We need it.”

We don’t need it, and Jameson is the only one who wants Tim’s company. One very short conversation with our grandmother years ago convinced James that she wanted Carden to take over Toffee Twist.

I wasn’t part of that conversation, and I fucking hate toffee. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t ignore it when my brother suggested we make Tim, the owner, an offer to buy his business.

He tried to play hardball, but he lost that battle tonight when I tossed out a number that made him realize he could retire to a home near a golf course and leave the toffee business behind forever.

“It’s good to know that your first thought is that I fucked things up, James.” I keep my tone even so he can’t tell I’m teasing him. “Your faith in me is inspiring.”

I can tell he’s taking a few extra seconds to craft a response. “You’re my brother, Holden. I trust you. I have faith in you. Just tell me what Tim is talking about.”

Putting him out of his misery right now serves me well in two ways. It’ll make him happy, and I’ll get this conversation over with so I can get out of here and surprise Summer.

“Toffee Twist is yours,” I say bluntly.

“What the fuck?” he asks, laughing his way through the question. “What the hell are you talking about?”

I take a second to acknowledge the server with a nod when he drops off a small white box I know contains the treat I can’t wait to put into Summer’s hands. “Give me a minute,” I whisper so I can finish my conversation with my brother before I settle up for the night.

He politely takes off, leaving me alone.

“Give you a minute for what?” James jumps to the conclusion that I was talking to him.

“That wasn’t meant for you,” I tell him succinctly, not bothering to explain where I am or who I was talking to.

“I’m bouncing off the walls here, Holden. Are you saying you worked out a deal with Tim?” The volume of his voice rises slightly. “Did you buy his company?”

“We shook on it,” I explain, so he knows exactly where we’re at in the buying process. “I don’t foresee any issues, though. Toffee Twist is now part of the Carden empire.”

“Jesus, Holden.” His voice breaks. “Was this your plan all along? Did you go to East Hampton this weekend to work this out?”

If I dive into the details now, I’ll be stuck talking to him for the next hour. That’s time I’d much rather spend with Summer. “I’ll stop by your place tomorrow night once I’m back in the city. I’ll explain everything then.”

“Fine. Good,” he spits both words out quickly. “I’m over the fucking moon here. I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

That’s why I made it happen.

I don’t tell him that as I wave the server back over. “I need to go, James. Kiss your boy for me and get some sleep.”

“Will do,” he says. “You’re the best, Holden.”

That’s all the thanks I need. My brother’s admiration was something I longed for when we were estranged from each other. I’ll never take it for granted again.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Greer

Wrappingmy short silk robe around me, I rush down the stairs toward the front door.

What I thought was a light knock less than a minute ago has now turned into an incessant press of someone’s finger on the doorbell. Hoping that I’m right in my assumption that Joe is waiting for me on the other side of the door, I smile as I reach the bottom of the stairs.

A quick run of my palm over my hair is all I need to do before I race to the door and stop dead in my tracks. “Who is it?”

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