Bro Code(60)
“Just because I’m okay with it doesn’t mean I’m ever gonna get used to it.” Nick sits up and grabs his beer off the ground, smiling while he takes a sip.
“Well, maybe keep throwing those beers back until you are used to it,” Barrett teases, turning off the grill. “Now come and grab some food while it's still hot.”
I survey the spread we’ve laid out across the picnic table—chicken, burgers, corn on the cob, potato salad, sliced watermelon, and a giant red cooler filled to the brim with icy cold drinks. It's the perfect summer picnic and it makes me fall in love with our little backyard even more. Once Dana and Nick have pulled themselves off of each other, I distribute paper plates, which everyone immediately starts piling high with food.
“Do the guys have off Labor Day this year?” Nick asks as he grabs a slice of watermelon.
“Of course. I’m not a monster. And with the way things have been going, they’ve earned it. They’re working so hard.”
We’ve all been working hard. Getting the factory up and running again after the safety violation fiasco was no easy task, but in the past eight months, the plant has completely turned around.
After the big meeting at Roland Enterprises, Barrett and I went back to his apartment in Chicago with every intention of spending the whole night hashing out a plan for company restructuring. Admittedly, we were up all night doing anything but working, but that Monday morning, we rolled out a new plan for the factory.
More weekly meetings with my staff, more checks and balances, and more direct involvement on my part instead of spending nine-to-five inside of my office. Mark dropped all charges against the plant with the understanding that he’d have more direct involvement in the plant’s design and safety, a role which I granted him immediately. The biggest difficulty was getting the factory up to working conditions again, but Barrett was generous enough to lend the factory the money for renovations.
I hesitated to take it until he reminded me he had a hand in shutting us down in the first place. Once we were back up and running, it hardly took any time before the factory hit its profit goal and I was able to pay back Barrett in full. Not that he was hurting for the money. Barrett Wilson and Associates took off the second he opened the doors of his practice. I guess small towns need sage legal advice too.
The four of us settle in at the picnic table with our plates, Barrett and me on one bench, Nick and Dana on the other.
“Looks great,” I say, sizing up my plate.
“Not as great as you.” Barrett places his hand on my thigh, and leans over and kisses me softly on the cheek, which Nick then mirrors with Dana. She giggles, tucking her hair behind her ear.
“I know I’ve said it again and again, but you two are beyond cute together,” I say, which makes Dana giggles even more. Nick wraps his arm around her waist and scooches a little closer to her on the picnic bench.
“And to think if I didn’t bail on you guys to go on a date with her, there may not be a Mr. and Mrs.”
I roll my eyes toward my hubby, who is smirking into his burger. Nick loves retelling this story, claiming that it proves that he is the reason Barrett and I got together.
Mom tries to take credit for setting us up, too, arguing that she’s the one who gave Barrett my number, but Dad says it was his doing since it was his retirement party. We stay quiet about it, letting them bicker and think whatever they want. Better not to tell them that it all started in our upstairs shower when I saw all of Barrett's…great qualities staring me in the face. And if I wanted to really analyze the hows and whys of our relationship, it really started decades ago when a girl fell in love with her brother’s best friend.
Barrett turns toward me then, seemingly thinking the same thing, and places a soft kiss on my lips. “I love you, Ava.”
“Loved you first.”
Up Next
Last night was the most embarrassing night of my life.
I was THAT girl.
You know, the highly intoxicated chick celebrating her thirtieth with her two best friends—the ones who are happily married. And the more I drank, the more I wanted to do something reckless to celebrate.
By reckless, I meant the sexy and alluring man dressed in a business suit standing near the bar. You know his type--tall, dark, and handsome. I was sure he was out of my league, but I'd had just enough alcohol that things like that no longer seemed to matter. I'm not fat, mind you, but you can tell I like French fries, so there's that.
He took me home and I enjoyed the hottest birthday sex of my life, well until it came to a screeching, and rather unwelcome halt.
There's nothing quite like being interrupted mid-ride with a little voice asking:
“What are you doing to my daddy?”
Just kill me now…... or so I thought.
Come to find out the man I rode like a bull at the rodeo is my new landlord.
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Acknowledgments
A huge thank you to my entire dream team. Danielle Sanchez and Alyssa Garcia at Inkslinger PR, you rock my world. To Becca Mysoor at Evident Ink, dear God, woman, I can't believe you pulled an all-nighter with this book. I mean, you were smelling colors by the end, but it was worth it, right? A bear hug is in order for Elaine York. I truly love working with you. You make it so easy.