Page 3 of Crazy In Love
Thoughtful, but silent, he grabs my suitcase handle, so when theelevator doors open on the ground level, he strides out and leaves me behind.
“Booker!”
“Michael.” He wheels my suitcase to the rear of the waiting car, palming a wad of cash toward the driver faster than my eyes can keep up. Then, he hands my purse back to me and takes my carry-on, placing it in the trunk.
Finally, he spins and looks down into my eyes, forcing me to fold at the neck because of how impressively tall he is, even compared to my respectable five-nine.
“You’re thinking things that are probably going to annoy me.”
He chuckles. “Actually, I was thinking about how sad you’ve been since Alana left. I know it, even if you think you’re good at hiding it.”
“Booker—”
“Theyprobably don’t notice.” He glances briefly toward our building. “Because you’re damn good at your job. But I knew you before. I’ve known you since you stumbled into the wrong lecture hall and stayed for an advanced marketing lecture you had no business being in.”
I breathe out a soft, almost silent snicker. “That was a fun day.”
“It matters that you’re happy, Fox. Business aside, I care that you’re okay. So go for your six-week sabbatical in the swamplands of nowhere, and try not to catch a nasty case of listeria or whatever it is those tiny towns carry.”
“You’re being mean. Truthful,” I amend. “But mean.”
“Stay in contact. And when you’re back, bring your A-game because I have big plans for us and a hell of a lot of shaking up to do here at Gable and Gains.”
“Gable, Gains, and Hemingway,” I counter. My heart swells with pride for the man too humble to be loud. “You forgot your name is on the building, too.”
He smirks. “I didn’t forget. We have things to discuss when you’re back, okay? So keep your schedule open for a dinner meeting. Non-negotiable.”
“A dinner meeting?”
“I have a proposal I’d like you to mull over.”
“When I get back?”
“There’s no point discussing it now, since I still need to iron out a few of the details. Besides, you’re going on vacation. Don’t overthink this, and don’t stress. Just know that once you return, I hope to have some pretty exciting news for you.”
“Oh sure, because that wasn’t vague and intriguing as hell! Why don’t you whack me with that carrot-dangling stick now and get it over with?”
“Because you need to focus on that sweet baby arriving any day now.” He opens the car door and steps back to pull it wide. “Plus, Sherry wants to be there for our chat, too. Give Alana my best, and tell Franklin I’m ready for a chess re-match. I’ve been studying.”
Because losing to a ten-year-old is embarrassing.
“Send pictures of the baby once she’s here.” He places his hand under my elbow and guides me toward the back seat. “And don’t pick fights with the folk down there. They have a lot of cousins to fight for them, seeing as how they’re all related.”
“You’re being a jerk.” But I laugh and slide into the car, twisting when he closes the door and leaning on the window frame to keep him in view. “You’re generalizing an entire community. That’s harmful and unkind.”
“Eh.” He smirks. “Oh, and since you’re not as good at hiding shit as you think you are, I feel it’s my duty to warn younotto pick at Christian Watkins anymore.”
Stunned, I pull away from the window and narrow my eyes. “What?”
“I know you, Fox, and I’m friends with Alana, too. Maybe not talk-every-day friends, like you are, but we sayhey. She told me how you and Chris bickered every damn minute the last time you were in the same room.”
“We didn’t bicker!”
We totally, absolutely did.
“She told me he’s his brother’s opposite. Tommy’s loud and outgoing. But Chris depends on routine. Quiet. Rules.” He pins me with a look. “You, my dear Fox, are the anti-routine rule-breaking nutcracker. You know exactly how to screw with him, and I know you well enough to be certain you’ve already decided on your mission.”
“You make me sound like an asshole. I’m not mean. I’m just… me. And that sometimes bothers him.”
