Chapter 2
Watching flowers, chocolates, and edible fruit arrangements be delivered to every woman—and a few of the men—in the office? That was bad.
Not that he wanted flowers or anything—though by lunch he’d stolen a few chocolates and strawberries from Clare, the assistant he shared a space with. He didn’t want to be wooed or won over on thisholiday, but every flower delivery, and even one embarrassing sing-a-gram, was a reminder that all these people would be going home to a lover, while he would be going home to an Indiana Jones marathon.
Around lunchtime, he swung by his friend Debra’s office, groaning when he saw daisies on her desk. “Not you too!”
She arched a perfectly sculpted brow at him. “Me too?” She snorted. “These are from my daughter.”
“Oh.” He canted his head. “She sent you flowers on Valentine’s Day?”
“Yes, because she loves me and appreciates me raising her all on my own. Well—” Debra smirked “—now she does. When she was thirteen, she hated me.”
“All right, you’re forgiven. So, want to go for lunch?”
“Aww, are you asking me on a date?” She batted her eyes.
“Yes! Yes!” He threw his arms in the air. “I’ve seen the errors of my ways!”
“Never knew I was such a cougar. Rawr.”
Hollis pursed his lips in silent commentary, and she swatted at him. “Shush, you. Yes, lunch sounds good. Want to hit that Vietnamese place by—” Her cell phone rang. With a glance at the screen, she frowned. “Hold on, I need to take this. Hello? Hey, Ken! Oh?” Debra nodded as he spoke, then said, concern lacing her tone, “Of course. Calm down, what’s happening?”
She furrowed her brow and grabbed a sheet of paper, jotting notes in her illegible scrawl. Then she stopped. “That’s it? Shit, Ken, I thought it was an emergency!” She crumpled the paper, rolling her eyes for Hollis’s benefit. “Sure, I can meet you two for lunch, as long as you don’t mind my coworker joining us.” Pause. “Hollis.” Pause. “No, he’s not a jerk, and he’s standing right here, in case you were wondering,” she added dryly.
They exchanged a few more details while Hollis waited, until Debra finally hung up and swung her chair around to face him.
“And what did your darling half-brother want?”
“God, he’s such a flailing of energy. His cousin just moved here, and he made it sound like the end of the frickin’ world, when in reality all he wanted was to ask if I could meet him for lunch so he’d have another person he knew in the area. You don’t mind coming with, do you?”
“No, but why is he freaking out about it? Sure, it’s your half-brother, he makes everything a big deal, but won’t the guy meet people on his own?”
Debra shrugged. “Ken said he’s extremely introverted and has trouble in social situations. Plus, it’s Ken—anyone who isn’t everywhere at once is a wallflower who needs to be rescued.”
“Right. When are we meeting them?”
“In ten minutes, go grab your coat.”
It was frigid, but they walked the three blocks to The Broken Egg, a breakfast-anytime joint that had been run by Tony and Jessica Yolk—no joke—for the past twenty years. It was a quaint place, and even on Valentine’s Day the lunch hour wasn’t too crazy. Most of the traffic was at breakfast, and over the years, they’d begun specializing in good food on the go. People ventured the extra block past the large M to stop there.
Hollis couldn’t remember the last time he’d been in for lunch, but he didn’t question it. Breakfast was good at any time. Plus, it was less likely to be filled with lovebirds who’d taken the day off. Unfortunately, it didn’t save him from Valentine decorations and heart-shaped specials. He ignored the chalkboard indicating the du jourand held the door for Debra.
They waved at Jessica Yolk, who was running the register, and indicated they were meeting people. Debra led him to a table near the back where a gentleman in his late forties sat with a tall curly-haired man. Hollis hadn’t expected the cousin to be so young—after all, Debra and her brother were fifteen years his senior. Both men were dressed in suits and talking quietly. Ken was smiling, his energy radiating even when sitting still. The cousin—Hollis hoped he’d get a name, since he’d forgotten to ask Debra—was listening, a tight smile on his lips, his shoulders straight but his head down, gaze focused on his fidgeting fingers. Yet, he didn’t look out of place in the suit. He filled it well, and although his brown curls made him look innocent—cherubic, even—his face was masculine, with a firm, sharp jaw.