Page 45 of The Homecoming

“Well, he hasn’t called,” Autumn said. “But why wouldn’t I tell him?”

“Because he’s out in the field. He doesn’t need the distraction.” He dug through the ornament box and selected another Santa. “It’s the last thing he needs. If he’s distracted, he could make a mistake and get himself killed.”

Autumn took a step back. That would be the last thing she’d ever want.

“He can’t just come home whenever he wants,” Jason mentioned, arranging another ornament on the tree. “So, he’ll be out there thinking about what he’s missing here…” He held up a finger gun to his head. “And bam.”

She stared at him, knowing how serious he was. “Okay, I’ll wait. Maybe he’ll be home soon.”

24.

The farmhouse smelled of burned wood and balsam when Autumn opened the door. Their work all summer had turned the old house into a cozy and inviting place. She almost hated to share it with clients. In the kitchen, she made the coffee as the guys weren’t there yet. They lived in a house on the adjacent property, so it was rare to beat both of them in. She switched on the computer and waited for the boot screen, the smell of coffee brewing added to the mix. She collected a stack of invoices that Brandon needed to approve so she could pay, adding a sticky note with his name on it.

Brandon stumbled his way in as Autumn settled at the desk with her fresh mug of coffee. “Sorry I’m late,” he said. “I had a personal matter to attend to.”

Ben walked in whistling. “Lovely morning, Autumn,” he said, more cheerful than she’d ever heard him. Brandon turned six shades of red.

“So, personal matter, huh?” Autumn shot him her best wicked smile, then fell over laughing.

Brandon chuckled, still wearing the splash of embarrassment across his cheeks. “How was your weekend?”

“Not as good as yours,” she chuckled. “But I told my family.”

“How’d it go?” He sat on the couch.

“About like I thought. Jason hit the roof. Mom made us all go Christmas tree shopping and decorating a la a 1950s happy family.”

“How’d that work out?” he asked.

“It was like bedlam and Christmas collided. It was shit, only with Santas.”

“Wow,” Brandon replied. “Whoever shows up to an event like that should be put on some sort of watch list.”

She smiled, shaking her head. “Stop trying to distract me.”

“It’s my job,” He shrugged.

“No, it’s your job to approve these invoices for payment.” She held up the stack of papers.

He groaned. “What do you think I am, a business owner? Jeez.” He stood and took the invoices from her hands.

“Yeah, heaven forbid you ask him to work,” Ben called out as he walked in.

“That’s right,” Brandon replied. “Ya’ll are putting a serious cramp in my goal to be a kept man.”

“Aw,” Ben cooed, “is pretty boy upset that he has to earn his keep around here?” Ben playfully slapped Brandon’s butt.

“Why, sir,” Brandon put on a thick southern accent. “I do declare that you are sexually harassin’ me on the job.” He fell onto the couch with the stack of invoices draped over his eyes.

Ben rolled his eyes with a smile. “God, what a drama queen. Anyway,” he continued, turning away from Brandon feigning having ‘the vapors’ on the couch. “We need to talk about your maternity leave.”

“Maternity leave?” she asked.

“Well, yeah, you’re going to need some time off when the baby comes. And we’re gonna need someone in here, temporarily.”

“I don’t want anyone else,” Brandon said, no longer playing the part of a fainting Civil War-era woman.

“You really want to go back to having to do it yourself?” Ben asked him.

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