Wilde About Carson: The Brothers Wilde Series — Book Three Read online

  I follow her out, smiling at Carson at the coffee room on the way. He needs at least three cups every morning, or he is useless. And on to the conference room. Four people, our international accounts representatives, all men between their late twenties and early forties. Two of them are nice, one indifferent, the other probably a closed book. Maybe it is because I am a woman, but it might be easier to equate it to being Asian—technically half—my mom is from Korea, but my dad is all American. I often talk with Elizabeth—one of three black executives here—on being judged by not only being a woman but from the way we look.

  “Let’s get started.” I clear my throat. Christina drops my coffee in front of me at the head chair and sits next to me to take notes as always.

  I flip my tablet out for my points. We have this meeting every month, and it never gets easier. I wonder if it ever will. I have worked here for almost two years, and it wasn’t because Carson just offered me the job, being that his dad started the company. I was anonymously matched by my graduate program. I came for the interview and held back so many laughs when I was sitting in front of Holden and Dylan. I mean, I once peed in their family pool. I have known Dylan and Holden since we were little kids. Still, I got through it. My qualifications spoke for me—two internships with the largest holding company in America, Magna Cum Laude, honors societies beyond my memory—it feels like family to work here, though. And no one really knows Carson is my best friend. It isn’t like we are dating. Holden has a very strict ‘no fraternization within the walls’ policy. Sarah and Wyatt in Accounting are proof of that since they no longer work here because they broke that rule.

  “You want us to close our current accounts with Gold Financial?” One of the nice ones asks me, closer to my age.

  “Yes, Mr. Wilde gave me the instruction. I’m still not sure why, though.”

  “Which one?”

  I smile softly, “Big Dubs.”

  I get a slight chuckle from them. I coined that phrase a while back because it gets pretty complicated throwing around all our bosses names. But Big Dubs is shocker—Holden.

  “We still have investors in Australia barking down our necks,” indifferent one sounds off.

  “Yes, I will relay that in our divisional meeting this afternoon.” I roll my shoulders back when he gives me a look. I don’t know how to place it—his thick black glasses hide everything. I wear contacts to save myself from my hideous bifocals, even added a little green to spice things up.

  “And the current merger with Wilson Financial in Germany?” nice one, number two, questions.

  “We will be discussing that as well, but it’s now my understanding that their departments will be divvied up, and we’ll handle their domestic accounts with an international liaison.”

  He nods, taking notes. He is the only one who takes notes—the others just wait for Christina to email them out. I adjust my hands on my hips as I quickly look down over my notes. Everything is covered.

  “That’s all I have for today. If you have any questions, feel free to email me. I have to get to another meeting.” I start packing up, and Christina follows.

  I take the first breath since I walked in the room.

  * * *

  “You look like a nun. What is this?” Carson circles my desk to irritate me and my choice of outfit.

  “My outfit for the day.” I look down innocently at my black button-up and black slacks, with white slits running up the sides that match the white accents beside the buttons. I had to be demure and boring. It was meeting day where every important person has a meeting I have to attend, and I have my own meeting to run. Otherwise, it’s colors and shapes and acceptable office wear from New York & Company.

  “Okay…” He makes a face.

  I stare up at him wondering when my best friend started to look like this. It kind of started at the wedding. Was it the tux? He wears a suit every day. Today it is cobalt blue and perfectly tailored as always.

  Carson is the most normal of his brothers, but I probably only think that because he is my best friend. When you know someone from kindergarten and beyond, other normal stuff gets forgotten. And one day, I guess today, I start seeing his perfect jawline, chiseled nose, and easy gray eyes. They all have gray eyes, but his are mixed with blue I only see in the sunlight. And his body has progressively only gotten better. He played lacrosse in high school so that obviously helped the muscular build he was desperate to put on. He went through a total whey protein and pre-workout phase for almost a year. But now, he looks good enough to be on the cover of any fitness magazine and give them a run for their money. His handsomeness is cloaked with a boyish charm that appeals to all women, hard to ignore, and his stature matches—strong and imposing—but still approachable.

  “Hello?”

  “Oh. Sorry.”

  “Did you not sleep last night?” Carson helps himself to my snack drawer at the bottom of my desk.

  “Yes, I did.”

  We got back pretty late from the wedding. But I ate plenty of cake to make it count. Also watching Brant marry his beautiful wife… I love weddings, I love happy endings and happy people. Original, I know.

  “You want to go to dinner with me? Our place is having a special on sushi rolls.”

  “Yeah, sure. I just have to finish this.”

  I stare at my oversized computer screen and type out the last email to one of our clients in Croatia. There are so many, I don’t know how I keep up with it. The sticky notes lining the right side of my silver desk could be one help or maybe the oversized calendar stretching across the front of it.

  Carson tosses a stress ball to himself on my couch. My corner office is like a second home. I almost made it look like one with my couch and sitting area, the flower pot Mia gave me, and all my photos—mostly just of Carson and me and my dad.

  “Are you done?” he asks like an impatient child.

  “You would think you have work to do.”

  “I delegate. The entire operations department is there for a reason.”

  I can’t see him. I can only hear his horrible voice.

  “How the hell did you get this job?” I murmur.

  “Uh… a little something called Daddy,” he scoffs, but I hear the crack in his voice. This is one thing he can’t joke his way out of.

  I finish my email and walk over to him. I stand over him laying down on my couch, even with a double chin he’s hot. But I’m lucky I don’t think of him that way. Every other female here and outside these walls has to suffer from the Dave Franco look-alike that looks even better somehow.

  “You never talk about that.”

  He stops tossing the ball and looks up at me.

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah, dude. Seriously.” I crouch down beside him.

  He is inches away, his scent swarming me like cold chocolate and fresh cologne. Maybe I just associate him with candy stores because that’s our favorite thing to do together. His eyes are intensely bold, and I can’t manage to look away.

  “You don’t talk about it.”

  “I don’t need to.”

  “When my mom died, I just about talked you to death.”

  “Because you like to talk.” He smirks.

  “You and your dad were close. I even miss him.” I smile softly.

  He sits up and leans on his forearm. “Yeah, I know. But I’m fine. When I’m ready to crack, you’ll be the first to know. Right now, I am starving, though, so let’s go.” He smiles and kisses my forehead before jumping up from the couch.

  I give up and sigh. He takes my hand and helps me up. I close out my office and then we leave. Before six, that’s a record for me.

  Whenever we make plans to leave together for dinner or something, it is always the same argument of who will drive and have to come back that ends with us settling it with rock-paper- scissors.

  I win.

  My car, though. He hates it. But I love my Beetle. It has been going strong ever since my dad bought it for me as a gift for gr
aduating Magna Cum Laude from Yale. I don’t think I slept through undergrad.

  “Germans are tall, they should have more legroom.”

  I laugh at Carson, knees half up his chest.

  “Six three only sounds good when you are talking up the ladies, huh?” I giggle and turn up the radio to ignore his response.

  Carson might be the ladies’ man of the century. I know everything as soon as he leaves his house in the morning most times. Carson doesn’t even really have a type, but that’s what makes him so funny. But he is generic, all around, no commitment ever. His idea of a girlfriend is more than once within a month—but hey, it’s his life. Me? I still haven’t gotten over my boyfriend of two years from sophomore year until graduation when he dumped me to go off to medical school. Maybe we could have made it work, maybe not. Now I don’t know. All he left was a wordy text.

  “You need that much?” Carson flicks my knee under the table after I order three rolls.

  “I didn’t get any sides,” I say as I grab two edamame.

  The place is dimly lit with decorations all around that feel like Chinatown. Or… I don’t know. My mom was second generation, and I wish I knew more of my Korean culture, but I really don’t.

  “I know we agreed to no work…” Carson starts.

  I finish chewing and lean forward. I knew that knot in his forehead was from something important.

  “But Holden is going to be killed by the end of the week if he doesn’t…” Carson clenches his fists and tightens his lips.

  “What happened?” I pour him more sweet tea from the carafe. Our favorite drink.

  “He is going crazy about this international merger with Wilson Financial. I don’t know why he is so bent out of shape about it, though.”

  “Does it have to do with the capital?” I ask.

  “Maybe. I don’t know. It might have to do with Dad.”

  “Why?”

  Carson shakes his head and leans back. Our food comes, and I still eat, but he can’t do that when he is thinking. I am a different person, however.

  “He wants to take the company global. Dad tried and couldn’t do it so…”

  “He feels like he has to.” My mouth is full, but he understands me. He looks at me and laughs.

  “Eat, Carson. You can’t change Holden. We both know that. Why is it such a big deal anyway?”

  He goes for wasabi and ginger with the chopsticks. “Because.”

  I laugh and roll my eyes because that’s all I am going to get.

  We go through dinner with easier conversation. Brant and Cora are in Puerto Rico and sending snapchats our way. Alec has been passing around new sonograms of their kid. I always think it’s so sweet that Alec, of all people, ended up with someone. Not that he was against it before, but I had thought he was so closed off that no one would take the time to break through. It takes patience. I guess Mia has it.

  If I could keep a record of all the women the Wilde brothers are involved with, pretending not to be and trying to be, my head would spin. When I need an escape, I can talk to my friend, Forbes, that I met in college in a freshman seminar for legal studies. But she works for what’s equivalent to our rival company, so she never comes to visit at work, and I don’t either. We still enjoy our spa and yoga days together, though.

  “You know, I think I’m ready to start dating again. Fire up my old Tinder profile,” I say to Carson.

  We ordered a few drinks to cap off the night, but not enough that neither of us couldn’t drive.

  “Really?” Carson piques his brows. He has taken his jacket off, rolled up his sleeves a little, and loosened his tie. His usually kept hair is loose, falling sideways, the end of the day evident in his demeanor.

  “Yeah. I mean… Hank is still on my mind, but what can I do? He didn’t want me anymore.”

  “He was an idiot.”

  Carson never liked him. I don’t know if he was doing it out of instinct since he was kind of like my brother in college, or if he simply saw what I couldn’t, but he ended up being right about him, and he knows how hard it was for me to get over him. I almost missed grad school, almost let my grades slip too. Heartbreak sucks, love hurts. But I still want it one day.

  “Well… I need to find another one.”

  “What do you mean you need?”

  “I mean that I want a boyfriend. I’m a relationship person, Carson. Dating, getting to know someone, and really learning about them… I miss that connection. And starting a family is always a good thing, too.”

  “Yeah, but you’re young. We’re both young.” He laughs.

  “And I’m not like you, Carson. Your arsenal of booty calls can attest to that.”

  He frowns, and I laugh at him.

  “What? This is going to be hard. I can’t date at work, and I am always at work. That leaves the gym which will be impossible since virtually no men do Pilates. Or chance. And this isn’t a novel.”

  Carson laughs at me. “You are so fucking weird, Emily.”

  “I know.”

  “Well, maybe I can talk to a few guys at the gym.”

  “You work out in your basement.”

  “I know. I only said that to be a good friend. I got nothing for you.” He leans back and slaps his hands on the table with a smug smile.

  I stare back at him smiling until it fades because I can’t really place the look in his eyes.

  It’s not only that he can’t or won’t help me, but that he doesn’t want to. And that wouldn’t make any sense. Why would he want me to stay single?

  “Let’s get dessert.”

  3

  Carson

  “The day I get any more ripped will be the day I do yoga with you.”

  “You love to talk about your body, Carson.” Emily laughs and flicks a sprinkle from her frozen yogurt at me. The amount of sugary toppings she adds to it defeats the purpose of it being healthy.

  “I don’t, but I am pointing out the obvious.”

  She sighs and folds up on my couch looking like a drop of frozen yogurt herself in her bright white yoga top and leggings.

  “It’s good for you. It helps flexibility, increases circulation.”

  “I have great circulation, and my women can be the ones who are flexible.”

  “Oh, so we do all the work?”

  We laugh together, “Yeah.”

  I sit across from her. My living room is mostly a panoramic window letting all the light in the world in and opens right up to the backyard with immaculate landscaping and a lap pool. The living room we are sitting in—one of two—has huge gray sectional couches that make up the entire room—this one doesn’t have a television—besides the decorations I let Emily add. In fact, she decorated the entire place. In another life, she might be an interior designer or something. But the place isn’t as big as it may sound, only three bedrooms and less than five thousand square feet.

  “Want some?” Emily extends her huge bowl I doubted she would finish on her own, her words muffled with her mouth full. It’s her worst habit, but she only does it around me. I have been to countless business dinners and dinner parties with her, she has perfect manners. But I like how we are both slobs around each other.

  I take a huge mouthful and pass it back sitting next to her on the couch.

  “Aren’t you worried your sweat will mess up the couch?” Emily pokes my bare shoulder.

  I finished a workout in the basement, so I haven’t put my shirt back on yet. Sometimes Emily works out with me, other times like today, she goes to the yoga studio and meets me back here for breakfast or lunch if it’s a Saturday.

  “No. And if it does, I’ll just…”

  “Buy a new one. I know.”

  I feel her rolling her eyes.

  “What? It’s a safe principle.”

  “An expensive one. Remember your I-don’t-do-laundry phase? Sad.”

  I steal the yogurt from her. “It saved me time back in college.”

  “Hello? We took literally the exact same
classes, and I had no problem doing laundry. Privilege.” She flicks my cheek. I grab her finger and tug her to me. She laughs in response.

  “It’s not. Plus, you had a nanny until you were twelve.” Her dad is some biomedical science researcher. I don’t know the specifics. I know he sells answers and patents for millions of dollars.

  “True. But, I do my own laundry. And I don’t say I will just buy stuff all the time.” She giggles and takes the yogurt back.

  “Right. Can we go get real food now?” I steal the last of her yogurt.

  Emily makes a face and stands up. My brow piques on demand with her half-naked body being exposed. Maybe not half-naked, but she only has on her sports bra and leggings. I’m trying to figure out when she got abs and her sinuous hourglass shape.

  “What do you want to eat?” she interrupts my guy moment. We coined that phrase in at least our junior year of high school when we started developing. Yeah, we’re friends, but she’s a hot girl, and I’m a good-looking dude, so I have been told. So, we have our moments. Sometimes we don’t call each other out, though.

  “I don’t know. You’re driving.” I stand, grinning at her as I wink.

  Quickly rushing to my room, I grab a shirt for both of us after she called after me to get her one too.

  “You shouldn’t prance around half-dressed, you know.” I hand one of my shirts to her.

  “I just went to the studio and then here.” She is already walking out before I realize I gave her a graphic tee that says ‘barbells and babes’ on the back.

  “Fair enough.”

  We head out to my car in the garage off the side of the house. I try not to be ostentatious, but I do love cars. Show cars are my poison, but anything that looks good on the road and keeps me entertained, I am down for. I keep a separate garage with the show pieces I got at auctions and car shows. In this one, I keep the cars I can actually drive but are in no way less flashy.

  “You want to drive today?” I stand with Emily at my key rack.

  “This is why I am friends with you.” She smiles. Emily likes cars too but not as much as me. She likes them enough for her to come with me to my ‘geeky’ shows as my brothers call it and hold conversations with me about it.