Wilde About Carson: The Brothers Wilde Series — Book Three Page 5

  I laugh because I knew that would be the case. Oh well. I can endure annoying brothers. I have all my life. I’m basically in the middle so I got to deal with both the older and younger ones at both ends. I still have a headache from video game wars and fights over the last Eggo waffle.

  All of us are in the team jersey, so when Fletcher makes another sack that essentially keeps the game three points up in their favor, it’s a movie moment that Mom doesn’t miss with her unnecessary, professional-grade camera. I think if she weren’t a teacher, she would take up photography.

  “Mom, you brought the grenade? Seriously.”

  “You can’t say grenade in a stadium.” She widens her eyes and looks so serious I don’t think she is joking. I toss my arm around her shoulder and scratch my nose trying not to laugh.

  “Mom, that’s the airport. You can’t say bomb in an airport.”

  She smiles and moves around to hug me. “Oh. I knew that.” She releases me, reaches up to ruffle my hair like I’m ten, but I don’t mind. I like when she does it, but not when my brothers do it.

  “You can’t scare me like that, Mom. I’ll be thinking you have dementia or something.”

  She smiles up at me, her smile is so vibrant and warming as it always has been. Mom has always been full of light and rainbows, a little for her students but always for us. It was the worst thing watching how she was after Dad died. She looks better now, much better—still beautiful and kind. The fifties ask about her at work—that’s what we call our male employees in their fifties. After two heart attacks in the actual building, we had to make new protocols, and we coined the phrase. Anyway, they ask about Mom now. At least they waited about six months.

  “Mom is too young to have dementia, besides the onset doesn’t occur until—”

  “Shut up, Jeffrey.” I take my arms from around Mom, and she swats at my shoulder.

  “Be nice.”

  Jeffrey flashes his smug smile irritating me even more. At least he didn’t wear his scrubs again.

  “Yeah, be nice. I am looking out for my mom here.”

  “Our mom.” Who gets sandwiched between us in our quarrel.

  “Whatever, she’s mine first. Mom, have you been going for your checkups? Mammograms?”

  “God, Jeffrey.” I almost gag.

  “It’s her health,” he snaps.

  “Boys—” Mom shoves our chests apart to give her space and shut us up. “Jeffrey, I have. Would you like to know about my gynecology exams, too?”

  This time Jeffrey gags. And thankfully leaves to bother someone else.

  “So, Emily is doing well,” Mom says to me. I groan and rub my face in response.

  “You, too?”

  “What? I’m only asking. I haven’t seen you two since Easter. Together, I mean. We still meet for lunch sometimes.”

  I chuckle. I forgot about that.

  “She is doing well. Great. Work is great for her, and she’s dating.”

  “Oh good. It would be nice to plan another wedding.”

  I laugh. “You move so fast, Mom.”

  “What? I hope it will be one of my boys’ weddings, but Emily is like a daughter to me, especially after her mom died.”

  “She is… so she’s like my sister then?”

  Mom laughs her honey-and-bells laugh. “No, no way.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Because… you two…”

  “We’re best friends. We grew up together, and we are like family.”

  “But it’s still different.”

  I sigh, turning to face her. She has her all-knowing smile on. It used to annoy me when I was a kid and got grounded or something and would get a lecture from her.

  “I know these things.”

  I laugh, shrugging it off. There is no getting past Mom on stuff like this or on anything. So, I let it go. We both lean over the counter and watch the end of the game play out. Mia and Cora go to the bathroom together for the tenth time.

  “We made a pact. It’s kind of stupid, but it’s as good as real.”

  “A pact?” Mom giggles.

  “Yeah, um. If we are both still single when we’re forty, then we get married and have kids together. Kind of as friends, but we know we can tolerate each other so everybody wins.”

  Mom gasps as she smiles, rubbing my shoulder. “Oh, sweetie, that is so cute. You two are so adorable.”

  “We try.”

  “I remember when you two dressed up for Halloween as Batman and Cat Woman every year, for five years. I got so tired of washing latex. It’s tricky you know.”

  I laugh. “Yeah, I remember. I wonder what we’ll do this year. Holden is thinking of doing more company events to boost morale. A Halloween party might be the first thing. You should come.” I look at her, and her smile falls, but she tries to replace it with a small one. My head hangs as I move closer to her.

  “I forgot you haven’t been in there…” I trail off.

  Mom sighs and shakes her head. “It’s okay, I’ll go one day. That place… it looked much different when we first met, but it’s mostly the same now. Just bigger. Everything he wanted. Everything he worked for.”

  “We’re taking care of it.”

  “I know.” Her smile returns. “And you boys are doing a great job. He would be so proud.”

  “I hope so…plus, we’re men now.”

  Mom laughs, a real one that makes me smile.

  “Okay, Carson.”

  * * *

  It takes a bit, but we pack the family up in two Suburbans to head back to the estate for dinner. Fletcher takes a little while to get there—he has to do press afterward. But once he does, everyone greets him warmly.

  Mom is beyond cooking for over a dozen people. She finally lets us cater the thing. We sit outside, enjoying the cool fall air of Maryland as we eat the amazing catered barbeque. Fletcher practically eats a pan himself.

  “Hey, kid, you’re looking small.” Fletcher comes up behind me, arms around my chest as he lifts me around. He used to always do that. It was cute when we were kids. Now it’s annoying.

  “You still call me that?” I turn to him.

  “Aw, you don’t like that?” He ruffles my hair, and I frown. I want to throw my beer at him. He has three inches and a hundred pounds on me, so I’m not about to start a fight.

  “Whatever. Congrats on the game.” I take back my beer.

  Looking out to the bay by the pool and outdoor kitchen, I see Emily with Evan and Holden, but she is laughing so it can’t be bad. Mom is with Mia and Cora, no doubt talking strategy about the babies. Alec and Brant tap out and join Emily.

  “How have you been? I don’t see you much.”

  “You don’t call much either.”

  He nods to himself. I look up to him, literally. He looks older every time I see him—eye wrinkles, permanent frown lines. But he’s healthy as a horse. I guess football is harder than I thought. Over the years he has had some lapses in memory—too many concussions—but it’s only short term and retrograde, other than that he’s fine.

  “My schedule is busy, practice you know. Team obligations.”

  “I doubt your schedule is any busier than mine running a company and all.”

  He laughs at me, like how a bully laughs at his prey. “Can’t be that hard. You want me to check on you more?” He makes his voice whine, and I clench my beer to keep from throwing it.

  “Try handling ninety billion dollars in international and regional assets every day and get back to me.”

  “Oh, big words.” He makes hands.

  I frown at him, and he starts to laugh. He sets his beer down to grasp both my shoulders and shake me senseless. “Relax, I’m messing with you. You know you’re my favorite brother.”

  “Whatever, man.” I shake my head and try to walk away, but he grabs my elbow.

  “I was kidding. What’s your deal?”

  “My deal is you aren’t always kidding, and I’m tired of laughing along.” I walk off to get some air by
the edge of the property line in the tomato garden.

  Fletcher and I get along fine. He has an ego—a big one—and an attitude worse than Isaac had or even Dylan now. Bottom line is he never wants to step up, never wants to do more than he already is. Football is the only thing he stays dedicated to, family comes a close second, maybe a tie. But he grew to be crude and arrogant, and I don’t spend any time around him that I don’t need to.

  “Fletcher?” Emily guesses. She finds me and comes to lean over the balcony facing me.

  The balcony is right over a vast emptiness of trees and bushes. I may have scavenged down there a few times with Isaac when he was nice. When he was here.

  “Yeah. Fletcher. The usual, it’s fine.” I smile at her. It’s forced, and she notices.

  “He loves you in his own way.”

  “We all love each other in our own way.” I chuckle.

  “It’s better than being an only child.” She laughs. “But it’s weird because I never felt like it. Not how you included me in everything you guys did, well some things. Not the porn collections, but everything else.”

  We laugh together. Our greatest feat as brothers is that Mom never found those magazines, or we think she didn’t.

  “I guess that isn’t so bad then.”

  “Nope.”

  We hang out silently for a little while. I can smell the flowers, the nature, and Emily with her almond-scented perfume and berry-smelling shampoo mixed in with it. She has smelled the same our entire lives from what I can remember.

  “So, Holden told me about the big company Halloween party.”

  “You don’t like it?”

  “It’s weird.” She laughs.

  “It isn’t.” I catch her gaze. “It’s fun. Good for morale.”

  “I know, it sounds fun.”

  I nod at her kind of awkwardly from the sudden dwindle of conversation.

  “Uh, anymore texts from Kenny?”

  “Kevin.”

  I shrug and chuckle.

  “Yeah. He’s at work.”

  “Does he even have any days off?”

  “Saturday. Unofficially. He could get called in, though.”

  “Hmm. Sounds difficult.”

  “Not really, plus we aren’t even exclusive or officially dating, so it doesn’t matter.”

  “Right.”

  We talk more about Holden turning the company around, and I find out she doesn’t know about her possible promotion. It makes it hard to be her boss and her friend sometimes because I have to keep stuff like that to myself. Or when performance reviews come around, that falls under my department. But I try to be impartial. She tells me more about this Kevin dude. She sounds happy, and I’m happy for that.

  “Our conversations are so adult now.” She laughs when we finish arguing over trust accounts.

  “I know, but you should trust me on this. I’ve been talking stocks with my dad since I was nine.”

  She laughs and nudges my shoulder. I nudge her back and laugh.

  “So, breakfast tomorrow?”

  “How about brunch?” I arch my brow.

  “Of course.”

  6

  Emily

  I should give up this yoga instructor thing. I only do it once a week on Saturday mornings. And I enjoy it, I really do. But I miss doing yoga for myself, by myself.

  I finish off the class and roll up my mat.

  “You’ve become more flexible.” Someone taps my ass, but I know it isn’t just anyone, my only friend outside of Carson is Forbes Walters. I have known her since college, that’s when we met. It must be before my time because she can’t be in the same room with any of Carson’s brothers, and I don’t know why.

  “Oh yeah?” I smile at her, rolling up my mat.

  “Yeah, especially in warrior three.” She smiles. Forbes is so gorgeous, I mean really movie-worthy gorgeous. Long, flowing, perfectly wavy golden hair—not blonde or brown, but golden. Immaculate, dramatic foreign features, even olive skin, and sharp green eyes, and a perfect smile. I don’t know which demi-god blew life into her.

  “Oh yay. I’ve been working on it for a while.”

  We walk out together. She lives in the building next door. The studio is downtown so she walked here.

  “Hey, come to brunch with me.” I unlock my door and stand behind the open door.

  “Sure… without Carson or with?”

  I laugh awkwardly. “Uh, with.”

  She comically turns, “I’ll see you next weekend.”

  “Wait.” I stop her. “What’s so bad about Carson? I remember you saying it was Dylan in particular.”

  “When?”

  I quote her, “You said, ‘I hate the Wildes, Dylan more than anything. In fact, he’s the worst. The others are fine. Dylan can drop dead,’ remember?”

  She laughs. “Yeah.”

  “Come on, Carson is great. Funny, and he’s single. Remember how hot he is?”

  She gags. “Yuck. I’ll go, but don’t play matchmaker.”

  I laugh, half squeal with the progress I made. We get to the café after Carson. I already find him in our spot. He makes a face at me. I guess it’s because of my guest since I wore full clothes today—a tank and short compression shorts—but clothes.

  “Hey.” I hug him hello. “Um, I brought my friend, Forbes. You remember her from college?”

  He nods slowly. “Yeah. Hey, Forbes.” He reaches out his hand to shake hers, but she swiftly ignores it and sits down.

  “Hey, Carson.” She crosses her legs, purses her full lips, and stares at the menu. We are dressed the same, but Carson is outright staring at her chest. I guess I don’t blame him, she has an amazing rack. Her top is strappy, the front geometric lines diagonal and straight down, and the bright orange color offsets her skin.

  “Um, so… how was yoga?” Carson asks.

  He gives me a look across the table, and I kick his ankle. He then frowns, and I shrug in response. He must have come from working out wearing a gray t-shirt and basketball shorts.

  “Fine. Apparently, I am more flexible.” I don’t bother looking at the menu, I always get the same thing.

  “Hmm, that’s good. You do yoga a lot, Forbes?” Carson turns to her.

  She sighs and sets her menu down, leaning across the table to look at him.

  “Sure. I do yoga a lot. Save me the line about liking your women flexible, I’m not interested. Never will be.”

  I laugh and Carson smiles in shock and scratches the back of his neck. He is uncomfortable. I don’t know what this bad beef is between her and them.

  We finally order, and I sip my sweet tea over the awkward silence.

  “So how is work?” I ask Forbes.

  She stops sipping her sparkling water. I honestly can’t figure her out. She is so dainty yet completely badass. And mean, but really kind. I don’t know if it’s because she is an acquisitions lawyer, and that’s how the job made her, but she has been the same since college, mostly. It was only two years ago for her.

  “Great. The company I work for bought a fast food chain.”

  “Oh wow, that sounds exciting.”

  “It was at first until it became a legal shit show. I put in enough overtime to last a year.”

  “I can imagine. Carson works really long hours sometimes, too, but I always leave at six.”

  “Working late is annoying, I get that,” Carson adds.

  “I never took you for the understanding type.” Forbes pops her lip.

  Carson laughs and leans over the table.

  “What’s your deal? Did I do something to you that I obviously don’t remember? If it was at a frat party, I wasn’t legally competent.”

  I sit up straight and awkward in the booth. At least the place is almost empty if a fight breaks out.

  “No, you didn’t,” I say. “It’s Dylan she doesn’t like.”

  Carson laughs. “We all hate him.” He flashes a smile, his woo-you smile. “We have a lot in common then, better to talk about t
hat than avoid talking to each other. It isn’t good to eat and be tense, it makes the food go down wrong. Indigestion.”

  That makes Forbes giggle a little bit, and the rest of the brunch goes easier. We end up reminiscing about college and old professors we equally hated. It ends up being nicer than it started, and at least I don’t have to keep my two friends separated anymore.

  After I drop Forbes off, I go home and do my weekend cleaning before I shower and watch daytime television. It’s nice to have free time. Until Carson calls me.

  “What are you doing tonight?” I don’t even get a hello from him.

  “Um… nothing?” Since Kevin canceled our date this morning, my schedule cleared up. Something about an emergency case from the night before.

  “Good. I need you to come to this restaurant opening with me.”

  “You need me? Why?” I laugh, more interested in the sitcom.

  “We bought this restaurant, and I don’t want to chat up these people alone.”

  “Oh, so this is work?” I make a face.

  “Not the company, just Holden and me.”

  Oh, another investment.

  “Okay. I wasn’t planning on shaving my legs for a dress tonight.”

  “Well, you’re gonna. I’ll do it if I have to.” He sounds so uptight, it’s fun.

  “I don’t know. I’m pretty tired, plus I have all this laundry to fold…”

  “I’ll fold the fucking laundry for you… please?”

  I laugh aloud. “Fine. And iron, too. I’ll come, what’s the address?”

  “I’ll be picking you up. It’s the least I can do.”

  I scoff, “The least. Is that how you treat your dates?”

  “No, I get them Ubers.”

  I choke on my laugh. “I hate you, you are unkind.”

  “I’m your other half. Be ready at six.”

  I roll my eyes. “Fine. See you.” I laugh to myself, and he hangs up before I lose it.

  It’s fun to mess with Carson when he is stressed. His voice cracks and gets whiny, and he sweats. More fun when it’s in person, though. I’m not even disappointed that Kevin canceled, that’s how these things go. But I’m thinking I should slow down with getting too attached, he could be lying—no, I can’t think like that either.