Page 25 of On the Line

“I’m going to go up and change,” I say, nodding toward the stairs. “I’ll be right back.”

Because even though my original inclination was to escape to the solace of my place upstairs so I wouldn’t be here when she arrived, I find that now that she’s here, I want to spend more time with her, even if it means putting up with my sisters and their judgy observations all night.

* * *

When I return, everyone’s already seated at the large farmhouse table that takes up the middle of our kitchen. Jules has roasted chickens, baked risotto, green beans, and roasted butternut squash laid out along the center of the table.

“Grab some margarita glasses while you’re up?” Jules asks as I come in.

I take four off the open shelving along the wall and bring them over. “It’s been a margarita kind of day?”

“Yeah. I swear that project in Wellesley is going to kill me. I’ll be amazed if the couple gets through this build without getting divorced.”

“Didn’t they just get married last year?” Audrey asks.

“Yeah, and the stress of building their dream home is really getting to them. Nothing but bickering about every last detail, and every price point. Her tastes are too extravagant for their budget, and his sense of what things actually cost is deranged. It’s been real fun,” Jules says as she takes one of the drink pitchers and fills her glass to the brim.

I hand Audrey her glass, then take my seat across from Lauren and hand her the last glass. I’ve changed into jeans and a short-sleeve T-shirt, and I don’t miss the way her eyes linger on the tattoos along my arms as I reach across the table.

“Jules puts the salt in the margarita, instead of on the rim of the glass. So, if you don’t like salt, I can make you something else.”

“I’m sure I’ll love it,” she says, reaching across the table and taking the glass carefully, like she’s trying not to touch my hand.

Her twins are sitting on either side of her, playing with some Matchbox cars that Graham has brought to the table for them.

“Who dat?” the one with red hair like Lauren’s asks as she points to me.

“This is Jameson Flynn.”

“Flynn?” the other one asks, her eyes lighting up. “Tangled?”

Lauren’s chest shakes with silent laughter, so I just give the girls my best Flynn Rider smile and their eyes widen.

“No,” I tell them. “Not Flynn Rider.” I point at my chest. “Jameson.” The word is slow and intentional, and they look at each other, one saying “Ja-son” and the other saying “Jame-sen.”

“Almost,” I tell them.

“You going to tell me who’s who?” I ask Lauren.

She tells me the redhead is Ivy and the brunette is Iris, and then Jules says, “So before Jameson came back, you were saying that you were going to start looking for a job? What do you do for work?”

Lauren swallows, meets my eye, then looks over at Jules. “Before I got married, I was in sports marketing. I used to work at Kaplan, with Jameson.” My sisters’ gazes fly to me, and I just shrug. I guess I’ve never mentioned that we used to work together. “Before ... everything happened ... I had just decided to go back to work. I’d gotten a part-time job in marketing with one of the farm teams for Colorado’s NHL team. But I had to turn the job down when Josh died, because I was not in a position to be starting a new job or spending an hour and a half commuting to Salt Lake City and back, three times a week.”

“So, do you want to get back into sports marketing again?” Audrey asks. “Like, could you go back to Kaplan?”

“I do. And I probably could,” Lauren says, then lifts her chin and glances at me. “But my uncle owns Kaplan and, I don’t know, I kind of want to branch out. Prove to myself that I can get back into this industry through my own merit, not through nepotism.”

God, I’d given her so much shit that first year she was at Kaplan, back when I thought she only got the job because she was Carson’s niece. She proved me wrong quickly, consistently learning and growing and becoming extremely damn good at her job. So good that I started making sure she worked with my athletes, helping them land endorsement deals that sometimes doubled or tripled their income.

“You should come work for me.” The words are out before I even have time to process what I’m about to say, and if the looks they’re giving me are any indication, everyone’s as surprised to hear me make this offer as I am. When no one says anything, I add, “I could use someone else in marketing.”

Lauren flushes, then looks away. When she looks back, she says, “That’s really nice of you to offer, but again, I’m not looking to get a job through nepotism.”

“I’m not offering you the opportunity because you’re a friend, I’m offering it because I know how good you are at what you do. I could use someone like you at my agency.”

“Thank you,” Lauren says, and her cheeks turn a shade of pink so deep they’re almost red. “But I really think it’s best if I look for a job on my own.” She gives a small smile as she glances at my sisters and shrugs. “A fresh start, of sorts.”

Jules and Audrey glance at each other, then at me, then at Lauren. And then as we pass the food around the table, they’re peppering her with questions about where she’d want to work, and whether she’s looking for full-time or part-time. But I’m only half listening, because I’m thinking about all the reasons Lauren doesn’t want to work for me. And I’m more certain than ever that I want to show her I’m not the asshole she worked with five years ago.

---