Page 14 of The Attraction

There is no way I’m going to be able to live with Harper in my home without one of us trying to kill the other, on a daily basis. The only chance we have of getting through this is hoping that we are both working so hard that we are hardly ever in the apartment, basically just here to sleep.

It’s just the weekends that will be a problem. Surely, she spends time with her family, or I can get Flynn to make sure they have lots of girly days organized. Then it’s her security team’s problem and not mine.

I only need to take care of her at night while she is in bed.

Fuck, I don’t need to be thinking about it that way.

I’m stronger than that. I won’t give in to her flirting or innuendos.

I made a promise to myself that the next woman I’m with will be with the intention of a long-term relationship. It’s why I have given up dating the socialite women who are just doing the rounds of the room and trying to find the next rich guy to pay for their easy life. I’m sure they aren’t all like that, but for some reason, they’re the ones I keep attracting, and I’m not interested.

I know I need more than that.

Ideservemore than that.

It’s the connection I want, that soul-deep one that I have now seen my brother and friends find. Why isn’t it that easy for me?

As I have been reminded several times by my mother and brother, everyone assumed it would be me that settled into the long-term serious relationship long before Flynn. And to be honest, we all doubted it would ever happen for him. But of course, life has a funny way of changing people’s directions without them realizing it.

I think they call it fate or some shit like that.

Rem and Sandon are sitting down together at the Kentwall Estates office while the rest of us plan the security detail needed to cover Harper. Flynn and Felisha are driving Harper home tonight and helping her pack up her things to bring up to my apartment that is four levels above hers.

I offered to help, but Flynn didn’t think that was a good idea, and he’s probably right.

Instead, I came home and worked out in the gym to try to take my anger down a notch or two.

The moment Rem told me some idiot was stalking Harper, instant rage started rushing through my system. Not that I’m sure it was any different for Flynn or Rem when they heard, but they weren’t stupid enough to put their hand up to be her babysitter. I’m still trying to work out why I did it, but there is no backing out now.

The workout wasn’t helping until I picked up the boxing gloves and started on the punching bag, and I could see this Chester guy’s face in front of me. I’m not a violent person, but there is a certain type of therapeutic relief from the repetitiveness of boxing against the bag. I have a feeling this bag is going to get a workout while Harper is living here.

And that’s the thing I didn’t really think through properly. We don’t really know how long this thing is going to go on for. But I can’t worry about that until this Ashton guy turns up in a few days and we know the whole story. It’s a bit weird that he has the same surname as Flynn and me. Taylor is a common name, but still, weird all the same. Maybe we’re distantly related.

After showering, I would normally just pull on a pair of track pants and not worry about a shirt, but I figure I need to get dressed properly before Harper gets here.

Dragging a black t-shirt over my head and running my hands through my hair, I don’t bother brushing it. My face is clean-shaven as always because I can’t stand the itch I get after the first day of trying to grow it out, and by day three, it’s driving me crazy, so I just don’t even bother trying anymore. The funny thing is it makes me look younger than Flynn some days, and it pisses him off when people assume he is the older brother.

We both have a bit of gray starting to creep into our hair, and I couldn’t give a shit about it. I’d rather be gray than bald. But I think because Flynn has the stubble and sometimes a short beard, it makes him look older. Our father went gray early and fully gray by the time he was fifty, so I’m heading there faster than I would like. Mum used to tell him she loved his hair like that and that he was her silver fox.

I sit at my desk in my home office, eating a meal I prepped early this week of curry chicken and vegetables with a small side of rice. I make sure I get the right amount of protein intake each meal, and I like being organized so I don’t have to waste time cooking during the week. I could hire a chef, but I have lived on my own for so long and done the same routine that it is just second nature now. Plus, as everyone likes to tell me, I’m a bit of a control freak, so preparing my own food makes me feel like I have control over what fuel I’m putting in my body. I never do a full seven days’ worth of meals because there are always at least one or two nights I’m out at a meeting over dinner or a social occasion.

My phone starts dancing on my desk with the vibration of an incoming call. I hate the annoyance of a loud ringtone, so it’s always on silent.

“Hi, Mum.” I put my earpiece in so I can keep working while I chat with her, because I know that once Harper arrives, I won’t get anything else done for the night.

“Hi, love, how are you doing?” She is always the one who calls to check on us. Dad is just not that sort of man. He cares and is glad to hear all the news Mum relays to him, but he does not like to use the phone much.

“Everything is fine with me, how about you and Dad?” I know I shouldn’t answer with an open-ended question like that, but I’m tired and wasn’t thinking.

“You know your father, he never says much, but I think he needs to go to the doctor because he seems to be getting constipated more often these days.”

And there it is. The reason I should not give Mum the opening to tell me things that I just don’t need to know about. I wonder if Flynn gets conversations like this. I doubt it because he wouldn’t bother to ask. To him, Mum and Dad will live forever, and I worry too much.

“I got him a laxative drink to take each night, and he says it’s helping a bit but has not fixed it completely and sometimes gives him the runs instead. I told him the problem is that he doesn’t drink enough water, but I’m sure he just switches off listening to me. I read on the internet that he should be eating prunes or some grapes or drinking some juice mix. But they also said he could have a problem with not eating enough fiber and that’s why he is blocked up.” I’m stopping her before this gets any further.

“Mum, we have talked about this before, do not search the internet for medical advice. That’s why the men in white coats go to university and train in hospitals for many years, to help diagnose you when there are problems. If you are worried, then book an appointment with his doctor.” I stop what I’m working on to concentrate and make sure she understands that you can’t believe everything you read on the internet.

“But doctors are expensive,” she replies.

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