Page 48 of Tailored for Them

I snorted at the same time Nicole laughed with a grimace, wrinkling her nose in disgust, “Violet. He’s our client. And Brandon’s brother. You can’t.”

Violet squeezed her eyes closed, still comically close to her phone camera, and pretended to sob, “I know, I know. But it’s been so long since I’vewantedsex—parenting, you know? Plus, my dad lives with us, and no way in hell am I bringing a guy home with my dad sharing a wall—but everything he does issoattractive. For literally no reason. I’mconstantlypopping bean. The number of times I’ve had to charge my vibrators this last month is chilling.”

Nicole was still giggling against me, “They’ll have to do for now. I can’t recall the specifics of our contract with Moore Farms, but I’m pretty sure ‘don’t sleep with the CEO’s brother’ is implied.”

Violet thumped her head down on her kitchen island, giving us a nice view of her electric blue hair falling all over the marble.

“You don’t have to worry. I’m under the impression that the horny-ness isn’t exactly reciprocated.” Violet murmured against the island.

“His loss,” I shrugged. “He’s missing out on your massive mommy-milkers.”

“Damn straight,” Violet sat up and pulled the collar of her V-neck shirt down, pushing her breasts together as shesmiled down at her own cleavage, “The universe blessed me with glorious tits after having Gracie, and only men who are completely obsessed with me get to motor-boat them.”

Nicole was laughing against my side, covering her mouth with her hand. I squeezed her closer and didn’t hold myself back from dropping my nose to her hair and inhaling. God, she smelled so good. The memories from last night were still fresh in my mind, and I wondered if she was enough of a morning person to be up for another round.

“Do you have any more questions for me, Violet, or—”

“Ohmygodyou have to see this!” Violet was whispering again, her gaze locked on something off-screen. The image of her pixelated for a moment while she moved, thumping over to a new area in her kitchen, “Are you fucking kidding me with this shit?”

“What?” Nicole and I both asked in a whisper.

Violet flipped the camera, and soon, we were looking through a window. You could tell she was adjusting the camera to avoid the blinds being in the way, but she didn’t want to open them that much and be spotted.

“Whoa, is that him?” I asked, leaning forward a bit.

A few yards away from Violet’s (thankfully clean) kitchen window was the bare back of a man with blonde hair. It fell to his shoulders, and the top half of his hair was pulled back into a man-bun. An axe appeared over his shoulder before he swung it down on a stump, splitting the large log in one hit.

There was a small pile of stacked wood to one side, and a small pile of logs that hadn’t been split yet on his opposite side.

“This is cruel,” Violet whispered, “He does this a few times a week. More often on weekends.” She sighed, and Nicole snorted.

“Is that his house?” Nicole asked, leaning forward. Violet’s phone panned over to a black log cabin-style home. There wasn’ta fence separating Violet's house and the black-painted one, but they were too far apart to be in the same building.

“We’re next-door neighbors, much to his chagrin.” Violet snickered. “Our primary bedrooms both have outdoor decks that face each other. He can’t escape me.” She ended her sentence with a low, comically evil laugh.

“That cabin looks so magical,” Nicole’s voice sounded dreamy, so I immediately filed away that bit of information about her, right next to all the other cute little facts I’ve learned about her.

Nicole experiences with secondhand embarrassment.

Nicole loves guacamole.

Nicole scrunches her nose when she’s grossed out.

Nicole’s parents both passed away.

Nicole is an only child.

Nicole is scared to lose her new friends at work.

Nicole gets nervous whenever I bring up introducing her tomyfriends.

Nicole prefers to be the little spoon.

Nicole gravitates toward the color yellow, like me.

Nicole thinks modern-looking cabins are dreamy.

In my brain, I collected these pieces of information into a bedazzled jar labeled “Nicole” and slid them underneath my bed until I needed them.

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