Bowie had a Daddy, who happened to be his boss, Kari! If that wasn’t a ‘holy shit’, he didn’t know what was. How had he missed it? Somehow he had and then Lennon’s confession that his older brother was also a Daddy, though not so much of a shock, still gave him a wow moment. It seemed Lennon’s family all knew and weren’t concerned about it. That was cool.
Isley was undecided about how he felt, after all these years of close friendship, that he hadn’t known these things about his friends. Isley supposed they all had secrets. He had his own so why would they be any different? He took another sip of wine to get rid of the bitterness that followed that thought.
He huffed out a frustrated breath, doing his best not to focus on his own issues. A teary Bowie over the situation with Kari and keeping his promise to say nothing until Bowie was ready to tell the others, was where his concern lay. What he’d said ran through his mind.
“And when you decide to talk to the others about any of this, we’ll be there for you, got it? It doesn’t have to be today, or tomorrow, or next week. Go at your pace, that’s always best.”
Maybe you should take your own advice,his animal side said in a condescending tone Isley hated.
It’s not the same. I’m not in love with Laken.Bowie was most definitely in love with Kari.
Delusional is what you are.
Not listening.
As if he was in love with the intolerable man. He ignored the clutch in his belly and shut out his animal’s howls of laughter. Nothing to see here.Abso-damn-lutely nothing!
Chapter Three
Laken
If he’d thought being back in the office would fix things, he’d been delusional. The weeks flew past with how busy they all were, yet each minute felt like ten—a hundred—when Laken hadn’t found his center. He had vertigo, his balance was shot, and he was wobbling all over the place, only the doc had said there was fuck all wrong with him.
Tell that to my damn brain!
Could he get it to switch back to how it was before the ranch? He’d lost the off switch. It had blindly wandered off into a sand storm and got buried after the strange moment in the cabin where he’d nearly given into the attraction he had for Isley. It had to be that, he’d concluded, after days, weeks with the inability to get Isley’s scent off him. Even when they weren’t together, he could smell the citrus and cinnamon. He didn’t know how that was possible, he’d scrubbed himself from head to toe and sent everything he owned to be laundered. Some form of Pavlov’s dog theory being trapped in the cabin for a week?
He didn’t know. What he did know was that it affected every part of his life. He struggled to sleep, to function with simple things. His dick thought he’d forgotten how to use his hands when he refused to jerk off, because it never satisfied the craving for the sugar glider. He’d taken to spraying himself with aftershave to mask his scent and wearing two pairs of underwear to keep his unruly dick in check. He’d gone up a trouser size to avoid the obvious embarrassment of looking like a horn dog. Which he wasn’t, and never had been, but when he went to bed, he couldn’t keep his thoughts out of the gutter. Worst of all, Popi was watching him like a hawk watches prey. It was fucking nerve racking working to act like his life wasn’t falling apart because of this attraction.
“—do a site visit so we can determine whether they have the capabilities to take on the full European contract. After all the mess we had before, I need to know this company can meet the demands of the stores we supply.”
Laken blinked several times to get the room into focus, because once more, he’d gotten up in his head and lost track of what the fuck he should be concentrating on.
“Do I need to book travel?” Isley’s question brought his gaze to the man tapping on his iPad, a wrinkle appearing between his brows. One that indicated he was having a problem with something.
“Travel?” Laken asked, before he could rein his tongue in.
“Are you listening to me?” Silas chuckled. “I. Need. You. To. Travel. To. Paris—”
“Stop fucking punctuating each word, I’m not deaf.”
“Then pay attention. Travel, you and Isley. We need to check out the haulage company that want to take on the European market. With the expansion of the clothing markets in Europe, we need to get this right.” His tone turned serious. “We’ve invested heavily in branching out and opening forty storesacross Europe. We need to know that supply won’t be a problem. Having empty shelves and no buyers is not something we need with the international press now on our ass most of the time.”
As if the universe had decided he hadn’t suffered enough, he was now going to have to take a business trip, which meant sharing a damn suite. He just wasn’t equipped for this. Galling, but true. Should he speak to Hollis about swapping? When was Isley due a heat? Could he take the trip when Isley was out of the office? As if Silas had suddenly become psychic and was able to read his damn thoughts through the phone he carried on.
“It’s got to happen quickly, Laken. Wilder has just sent Isley an email with the dates I’ve arranged with Louis for next week. I’ll leave the rest up to you.”
“Fucking generous of you!” he exclaimed angrily, not missing how Isley tensed in his seat, his fingers tapping at the iPad harder than necessary.
He worked extra hard to return his attention to the computer screen and not obsess about the sudden change in Isley. Did he not want to travel with him? Tough, he was coming, and that was the end of it. He didn’t bother with the fact it contraindicated all his previous thoughts of trying to prevent it. Sue him!
“We’ll have the local deliveries to the stores by the end of this week. I see you mentioned in your last email that the last two deliveries were delayed by a day or two. Ven has promised it wasn’t a major issue, but can we monitor the situation closely?”
“What do you think I’m doing over here, twiddling my damn thumbs? Why else would I have emailed you about it? There can’t be any more delays, there are penalties we have to shoulder, not them,” Laken stated briskly, pulling his head back into the game.
His brow creased at the strange sound coming through the speaker—was that kissing? “Are you fucking kidding me? Are you and Ziggy kissing? It’s eleven in the morning, Silas.What are you playing at? Surely you can show a shred of professionalism and keep it in your pants while you’re at work?”
Laken laid on the sarcasm with a shovel, feeling no entertainment at the situation with his own zero sex at the forefront of his mind these days. He was so over having his face shoved in the romantic entanglements of his brothers. Booker and Frey were barely bearable to be around with all the touchy feely crap at home. Now it seemed he was going to get no respite from it at work, either.