Page 16 of Choose Me

“Oh my god, Erik!” Astrid practically squees with delight, bouncing up from her desk and hurrying across the office to fling herself at me. Without hesitation, I catch her in a tight hug, which she matches with equal ferocity. I set her down, and she takes a step back but grabs both of my hands in hers and squeezes tightly. “I didn’t know you were in town!”

“It was a last-minute decision. I flew in on Saturday evening and met up with Stef and the gang. Yesterday I went hiking and spent the evening at Stef’s. I figured I’d come take you to lunch since I missed dinner with everyone last night.”

Her raised eyebrow says she knows something’s up with my story. “Hiking, huh?” But that’s all the pushback I get. For now. “And what’s with the suit and tie?” She flicks my burgundy silk neckwear with one beautifully manicured fingernail.

I ignore both questions and glance around, taking in her office. “Wow! Look at you! Window office, nice furniture, your name on the door.” I’m so damned proud of her because she started here as an intern in college. A placement she earned on her own merit, tenacity, and talent. Frankly, I think it’s her terrifyingly wicked vocabulary and obscure knowledge of grammar rules that had them eating out of her hand by graduation. They offered her an entry-level position, and she moved up the corporate ladder fairly quickly. She’s now a copy editor here, and I have no doubt she’ll end up as editor-in-chief some day. “The corner office is next.” I wink at her, and she laughs but doesn’t deny it.

“That’s the goal, anyway.” She gestures to the chairs in front of her desk and I sit, unsurprised that I don’t have to wedge myself into an uncomfortably small chair like I do in most settings. With Astrid being five feet ten inches tall and very fit, plus having three very tall, very muscular brothers, she’s incredibly aware of the need to buy furniture that will support all body types. She leans against the edge of her desk and crosses her arms. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this surprise Monday lunch date?”

“I suppose you won’t accept that I just wanted to see you?” Her eye roll says a resounding no to that question. “Fine. I want to talk to you about something, and I’d like you to keep it between us.”

She leans back in her chair, gazing intently at me. “By that you mean so Bjorn and Gunnar won’t hear about it.”

“Yeah. Because one or both will butt in and freely offer opinions. I don’t want to stir up either of them, so I won’t contradict them if we disagree, and it’ll end up with me going along with the one shouting the loudest just to keep the peace.” I wince. “You know how I am.”

“I do. You’re kind-hearted, and incredibly caring, and protective of the people you love.” She squeezes my hand as if to punctuate her statement.

“Well, thanks. But I meant I can stand up to complete strangers but not the people I care about. Not you, or Bjorn, or Gunnar, or Stef. I hate disappointing you guys.” She doesn’t contradict me, because she knows it’s true. “Anyway, if you’d keep it between us, I’d appreciate it. Because I know you’ll listen and give me your opinion based on reason, and right now, I need rational thought.”

She quirks a brow at me. “Because you have your own emotional opinions already?”

“Exactly.” So very many. Most of which revolve around one very sweet, beautiful man with hazel eyes and lips I ache to taste.

She makes a humming noise and pushes off the desk. “Let me grab my purse and we can talk now. I’ll tell Mike we’re stepping out for a long-ish lunch.”

Astrid walks around her desk, types something into her computer, pulls her purse out of her desk drawer, and waves me out of her office. We stop at the admin’s station and she gestures to me. “Mike, this is my brother Erik, and he’s come to whisk me away for a very expensive lunch atLaurent.”

I laugh at that. “Oh, I have, have I?”

She turns to me. “Yes. And we’ll be taking our time. I’m ordering duck. You’re paying.”

I raise my brows at Mike, who’s grinning like this is par for the course with Astrid. I gesture toward the elevators with a flourish. “Well then, dear sister, let’s go.”

Mike reaches for his phone. “Do you want a car?”

Astrid waves him off. “No. I won’t take advantage of Blake’s generosity,”—she gives him a wink—“just my dear brother’s.” She loops her arm through mine and starts walking. “Did you bring the bike or a car?”

I have missed my sister so very much. “I rented an SUV.”

She tugs me toward the elevators. “Excellent. We’ll make the appropriately pretentious impression with the valet.”

Half an hour later, we’re seated in an incredibly posh dining room covered in dark wood and glass accents everywhere, linen napkins draped across our laps by Dominic, our server, who takes our order, writes nothing down, and exits with a small nod and a “Very good.” When he’s gone, Astrid nudges my shin with her foot. “Okay, spill. I’m dying to know what secret mission brought you home.”

I roll my eyes because pretending we were spies was always Astrid’s favorite game when we were little. Seems like that’s still a thing. “It’s not a secret, really. I had a meeting this morning.” I pause, trying to figure out the order of what I want to say. “You remember my old boss, Gordon Mackavey?”

“Your boss from the hiking guide job you had through college?”

“Exactly. He called me last week about a business opportunity. Not with him, but it was one he thought would be a good fit for me. It’s a tour company here in Seattle that specializes in day, overnight, and week-long hiking, biking, and camping tours. The owner’s in his mid-fifties and loves the job and the company, but wants to semi-retire. There was a partner, but the guy moved and sold his half of the company back, and the current owner can’t semi-retire while running the company by himself. Plus, he has no kids to pass it on to. Rather than close up shop, he’s trying to find someone else to invest.”

Astrid laces her fingers together and leans her elbows on the table. “And that’s you?”

I shrug. “Could be. I’ll have our lawyer review the contract and our accountant audit the books first, but so far, it looks promising.”

“But you’re not sure if you want the opportunity.”

How do I tell her I want it too much? I want to be back here in Seattle with all the people I care about. I’d sign the papers right now, except I know what a stupid move that would be. The lawyer and accountant definitely need to look everything over first. I brush my hand down my tie and straighten my napkin in my lap. “I’m a little too sure.”

She steeples her fingers and taps her lower lip, watching me intently. “Who is he or she?”

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