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mere nine years old.”

I fisted my napkin in my lap, but leaned toward her. “The barbs? So early? And here I thought this might be an enjoyable lunch.”

She sighed. “I’m sorry. That was low, even for me.”

Not even for her. But I didn’t want things to escalate. In that effort, I kept quiet.

She leaned back in her chair. “Tell me, why have you taken this bookkeeping job? I know it’s at your father’s request, but it seems beneath your capabilities.”

I dipped my chin. “Everyone has to start somewhere, Mother. Besides, it isn’t like I don’t do similar work at the shelter each week.”

She leaned forward. “Another fine point. The shelter work was one thing, since I had hoped it would allow you to meet a man, but truly? Are you still doing that too?”

I smiled with saccharine sweetness. “Yes, mother. Volunteering is important, no matter how well-off one is.”

She looked past me with an unimpressed expression. When she caught my eyes again, she muttered, “You are very much your father’s daughter.”

I tilted my head for a moment. “That’s why you love me though, right?”

The server’s timing couldn’t have been better, as that was when he arrived with mother’s starter. Little would he ever know, he saved me from hearing whatever retort she might have had.

MOTHER DROPPED ME OFF at Club Eclectic, and I returned to my desk with a full belly but a drained heart. Very damn little about our lunch made sense to me. She had asked why I was working this job, but surely Dad would have told her about his suspicions regarding Ryan.

Fact of the matter was, I had been too distracted by seeing Brock there to circle the conversation back around to my employment. It hadn’t been my imagination, and I made a mental note to drop by Gabe and Brock’s apartment to confront him about it.

Making it even more bizarre, the man who sat in his place ordered a whiskey. Then every time I glanced his way, he was checking his watch or texting on his phone. Part of me found it to be a show, but the third time I looked his way, he had gone to the restroom.

I had to dismiss the idea it was a show, because not long after he returned, a beautiful dark-haired woman in a summer dress joined him. They leaned toward one another across the table, and I nearly felt the intensity of their conversation.

Being five weeks into the job, I wrapped up my work a little earlier than normal. Rather than leave, I checked older journal entries to see if I could find anything wrong. Nothing jumped out at me, but then again I didn’t expect it to. However, there were some entries for a few vendors which seemed sketchy. Between lunch with my mother and the long afternoon, my mind was muddled. I flagged those entries so I could examine them in the morning with fresh eyes and a clear mind.

Grabbing my cell sat from my desk, I called Gabe. It rang three times, and I realized I probably should have texted instead, but then he answered on the fourth ring.

“Daughtry, you never call. You always text, but never call.”

I grinned. “Well, I have to go pick up Mom’s ashes—”

“You want me to come with you?”

I smiled a little. “That’s sweet of you, but no. Besides, afterward I intend to drop by your place.”

He scoffed. “Why? Brock’s here and Cecilia’s gonna be home in like two hours or some shit. I’ll come by your place, baby.”

I steeled my resolve against his use of the term ‘baby.’ “No, Gabe. I’m coming to your place. And your brother better be there, when I get there.”

“What?” he asked, sounding surprised.

“You heard me, Sullivan. Love you, see you soon.”

Compliments of decent traffic, I picked up Mom and knocked on Gabe’s door an hour and a half later.

“Hey, darlin’,” Gabe greeted, holding the door open for me to come inside.

I walked in and saw Brock on the couch with an X-Box controller in his hand.

I stalked into the living room. “You! What’s up with sitting inside Kres Chophouse and not even acknowledging me? Huh? And then, when I look back... poof! You disappear.”

Brock’s head tilted, and he did a long blink while he sighed. “Cassie, I was working. My subject moves, I have to move with them.”

My posture deflated, since that made sense.

“Sorry,” I said.

“Lunching with mother-dearest at the fancy chop house, eh?” Gabe asked.

My close-lipped smile was supposed to be demure. “Command performance, you might say.”

“Nice to have millions is what I really might say.”

I glared at him.

“What’re you talkin’ about?” Brock asked, looking over his shoulder at Gabe

Gabe looked at him questioningly. “Thought I told you. Cassie’s family has millions.”

Brock’s jaw dropped, and I hung my head, muttering, “Gabe. Didn’t I mention my family doesn’t advertise that?”

Gabe moved to me, cupped my chin to tilt my face up. His remorseful eyes were all the apology I needed, but he said, “Sorry, baby, but he’s my brother. He’s not gonna advertise it. Well, except to Cecilia, but that’s pillow talk, not advertising.”

“Pillow talk,” I scoffed. “Now who’s the nerd, nerd?”

“That’s totally a common term.”

“No, she’s got you there, numbnuts. I’m older than you and I don’t even use that term,” Brock said, turning back to the TV.

Gabe looked over his shoulder. “Whatever, Brock.” He turned back to me. “You’re here. I don’t know what’s in the fridge since it was Cecilia’s week to shop, but you want me to cook for you?”

I shook my head. “It really isn’t necessary. I ate so much at lunch, I would normally just have a can of soup or something for dinner.”

“Soup? No way, woman!” He hooked an arm around my neck and guided me toward the kitchen. “You’re with me, you got to eat. Come on, I’ll show you how cooking is really done.”

I chuckled at him, just as Brock said, “God! I think I’m gonna be ill. Go to Cassie’s

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