Page 43 of Definitely (Maybe) Dating
Gage leaned a hip against the ropes and grinned as if this was the strategy all along. “Great. I need help clearing out the attic at Belle Mont. Darcy wants to renovate it into a honeymoon suite, but first it needs to be cleaned out.”
“There’s a hundred years of crap up there and, with this sudden heat wave, it’s got to be a hundred degrees up there.”
“Which is why another hand would be great. Thanks for offering, man. Be there Friday at eight.”
“Some of us work Fridays.” He looked at Owen. “Ask him.”
“I missed Kylie’s recital, so I’ll be there too.”
Rhett laughed. “Tough situation, guys. That’s why I went to the recital and all the dinners.”
“I have court in the morning,” Josh explained, and it wasn’t like he could skip due to a personal health day. He’d be fired and maybe held in contempt. “I can be there by three.”
Rhett let out a low whistle. “Trust me, you don’t want an Easton woman on your ass.”
“What did you do?” Gage shook his head in a verytisk-tiskway that had Rhett sighing.
“I didn’t tell Steph the exact date of your bachelor party, and I guess it conflicts with fashion week in Milan.”
“This trip has been planned for months, and we specifically booked it that far out to make sure it didn’t conflict with anyone’s schedule,” Josh said, andwereferred to him.
Even with everything on his plate, Josh had been tasked with planning Gage’s bachelor party. Rhett would be in the studio, Owen ramping up for Oktoberfest, and Clay would be neck deep into football season. And it wasn’t like Gage could plan his own party. Which left Josh—responsible, reliable, unable to say no Josh. Who had as much on his plate, or maybe more, than any one of his brothers.
He’d gone over the family calendar, which was like deciphering German code without a cypher, searching for seven consecutive days that they were all free, or at least could move things around. After some negotiations and a lot of finagling, he’d managed to find one single solitary week that worked for all. And Rhett had screwed the pooch.
“Why didn’t you just tell her?” Josh asked.
“Oh, I did. I just didn’t write down the exact dates.”
“She knows that with Grandpa here planning it there won’t be any strippers or anything remotely exciting, right?” Owen said, and Josh flipped him off.
“She’s not mad about the party. She’s mad because I didn’t tell her ahead of time, and now we don’t have a dog sitter for Littleshit.”
“That’s it?” Josh asked. “Your life crisis is that you don’t have a dog sitter?”
Josh ran a hand down his face, surprised at the amount of stubble. God, he was tired. The kind of tired that went so bone deep, sleep didn’t even touch it.
When had everything become so screwed up? Between spearheading the auction, strategy meetings, and managing his family’s comings and goings, he didn’t have time for a life.
He wasn’t implying his brothers hadn’t worked their asses off to get where they were. Josh was the only nine-to-fiver who answered to someone other than himself. And his work was suffering because he was the steady in the family.
“Sissy? Dog sitter? Peacock statues?” Owen looked disgusted. “I am calling the man card committee and deactivating everyone’s membership.”
Rhett ignored this. “She wants me to bring him on the trip.”
“Not happening,” Josh said as the other guys gave a resounding, “Hell, no.”
Owen was the only one to laugh because he was the last one who hadn’t yet been stuck Littleshit-sitting. He’d only been spared because he worked eighty-hour work weeks running their family bar, and the health department took issue with pocket-pets lifting their leg in commercial kitchens.
“Well, she can’t go with Steph. And we can’t board her, because she bit a mastiff last month and now we’re banned from every good kennel in the city.”
“Not my problem. Your mess. You clean it up,” Gage said. “Don’t you know the secret to a happy marriage? Transparency is the key to getting laid.”
“Actually, it’s being in the same time zone,” Rhett mumbled.
“Actually, it’s being a big boy and cleaning up after yourself,” Josh said, taking off his gloves and tossing them into his gym bag.
“Or maybe cleaning up for someone else,” Gage suggested. “You’re so used to being the one chased, sometimes you have to be the one chasing. Your relationship is as much of a job as your job is the job.”
