Page 82 of Charm

“I’m in a hard like,” I tell him.

His brow furrows. “Frame it however you want. I’m more concerned with how you came to choose that shirt and those pants.”

I glance down at my charcoal gray pants and the black button-down shirt I’m wearing. I plan on going to the office after we visit Declan and his family.

My gaze slides to what Rook’s wearing. It’s black pants with a charcoal gray sweater.

I huff out a laugh. “At least it’s not an exact match today.”

“Close enough.” He chuckles. “Did you get the goods?”

That brings more laughter out of me. “The goods? It’s a box of chocolate cigars, Rook.”

I hand it off to him, so he can inspect it, although he knows exactly what they taste like since he’s a big fan of Wolf Candy’s chocolate bars.

“Why don’t you make these?” He taps the corner of the box on his palm. “You could corner the market. Your reach is widespread.”

“Nothing we come up with will compare to what Nikita Wolf is making,” I admit. “Her chocolate sales beat ours every day of the week in this city.”

Nodding, he glances at the building Declan and his family live in. “It’s time to fight over who gets to hold our new nephew.”

Neither of us is related to Gilbert Wells by blood, but he’s our family. He will always be our family.

“You can hold him first,” I offer as we enter the lobby. We both nod in appreciation at the doorman as he holds open one of the heavy glass doors. “When he cries, and he will, I’ll take him from you.”

Rook pats my shoulder as we walk side-by-side toward the elevators. “You do have a way with kids, Holden. You’re going to be a good dad one day.”

I press my finger into the call button before I glance at him. “As good as you, Rook.”

“Don’t get carried away.” He grins. “You’ll do all right. My daughter loves you. Gilbert will, too.”

I can only hope he’s right. My friends’ kids and Jameson’s son are a big part of my world. I’m not counting on smooth sailing when it comes to meeting Greer’s daughter, but maybe someday, that little girl will see me as a friend.

I exitthe elevator on the floor that houses the executive offices of Carden Confectionaries. It’s well into the evening now, but there are still people milling about. Everyone who works for us understands our vision and knows that if they do a great job, they’ll be awarded appropriately.

Yearly bonuses are a given here, so I’m not surprised to pass one of our sales staff in the corridor on the way to my office.

I also breeze past the woman I practically ignored the other day. “Hi, Carol.”

She stops mid-step to look right at me. “Good evening, Mr. Sheppard.”

“Holden,” I correct her, even though only a handful of our employees have been given the go-ahead to call me that.

“Holden,” she repeats my name in an almost whisper. “Are you on your way in, sir? Do you need me to help you with anything?”

My gaze drops to the wide gold band wrapped around her ring finger. The birthstone pendant hanging off her necklace isanother clue that Carol has a family to get home to. There are at least six colorful stones on the pendant.

I was tempted to buy one just like it for my grandmother years ago, but I hesitated because my relationship with Jameson was fractured at the time, and I thought the pendant would only serve as a reminder of that whenever my grandmother looked at it.

“I’m good,” I assure her. “You should get home.”

“I’m on my way out for the night,” she says, and I swear there’s a sigh of relief wrapped around the words. “Two subway rides and I’ll be home sweet home.”

I don’t know if the good mood I’m in is all related to Greer, or if holding baby Gilbert has something to do with it, but I whip my phone out of the pocket of my pants and initiate a call to the private car service we use when needed.

Jameson tends to use it more than I do, but I can’t fault him for that. He has a family to rush home to every night.

I order a car for Carol and end the call quickly.

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