I sigh. If he could, he’d put a tracker on my ankle. My little sister gets anxious when she doesn’t know where I am. She should focus on raising her five children and dealing with her husband. Kyle is too fucking needy.
“I’m in San Francisco.”
“Huh, interesting.”
“Is it? You know the place well, I’m sure there’s nothing interesting here for you.”
Kyle and I met in Santa Cruz, a town just an hour south of the Bay area. That’s where I was born and raised. His family owned a vacation home, but he’s part of the Maxwell family. The Maxwells are one of the wealthiest families in the state, maybe the country. I think his worst memories are buried somewhere downtown. He’s better living in Evergreen, Colorado, far away from here.
“Don’t play dumb,” he snaps. “Why are you there and not here?”
“I’ll visit you soon, honey. You know you’re my one and only,” I joke.
“Fuck you. My wife wants to know how long you’re staying. She misses you—” He pauses long enough to make me want to hang up, but I don’t. “We all miss you, Elliot.”
Kyle used to be the clown of our friend group. He didn’t care what happened around him, but now, he sounds more mature than I do. It’s not like I haven’t matured.
My sister, Cassandra, swears I have Peter Pan Syndrome, but I don’t. There’s a huge difference between not wanting to grow up and avoiding my past.
“How’s Cassy? How are the kids?”
“You should come and visit us.”
“I’ll do it soon,” I promise, though soon can mean six months or a year, or maybe even two.
I adore my brother and sisters, and sometimes I miss my best friends. However, they’ll expect me to stay longer, and I don’t like to stay in one place for too long.
“What are you up to?”
If I knew, I wouldn’t be here, but I just say, “I’m still deciding.”
It’s not like a project is going to fall into my lap. Next week, I might make a few calls. “For now, I’m planning on taking it easy.” I don’t lie. I’m gently letting him know to fuck off.
“You can come and work for me.”
I laugh. “No, but thank you for the offer.” I’m tempted to tell him that we co-own his company, and we agreed I’d be a silent partner. Meaning, he runs it and makes monthly deposits into my account.
That’s how I’ve been running my business affairs for the past six years—since Mom, my sister, Dahlia, and two of her daughters died in a car accident. I close my eyes, sending a silent prayer for their souls.
“Your sister would appreciate having you around for more than a weekend.”
“Why don’t I call you when I decide where I’m going next. Say hi to everyone for me.”
“Elliot you—”
I cut off the conversation before it gets too heavy. I love my friend, but I’m not in the mood to discuss my future, my choices, or his nonsense. I go back to eating when I notice a woman holding a tray walking around the dining room as she looks for a place to sit and eat her food.
There’s something about her that calls to me. Maybe it’s her posture, those eyes, or the frustration etched on her forehead. She’s beautiful but young. Too young. She could be my niece. Not many believe I have nephews and nieces who are in their early thirties.
If my niece Teagan were distraught, I’d love for someone to aid her. I rise from my seat and approach the frazzled-looking woman. “Would you like to share the table with me?”
She smiles, almost knocking me down to my knees. She’s even more gorgeous than I thought a second ago. Her gray-blue eyes are big and bright. It’s like staring at the ocean. I bet they’re bluer when she’s happy and look like a storm when she’s angry.
This kid is too young, just walk away.
“I don’t want to interrupt your meal,” she says with a sweet, gravelly voice that hits me in the groin.
Okay, maybe I need to look for a woman who can take the edge off. It’s been a long time since the last time I fucked someone. She’s not the one though.
“Don’t worry about me,” I assure her, planning on just picking up my tray and leaving the place immediately.
“Okay, but it’ll only take a few minutes. I’m a fast eater.” She sets up the tray on my table, and I pull out the chair so she can sit. She glances at me, gifting me another smile. “Thank you. You’re making me believe in humanity.”
“Because you lost hope?” I ask, taking a seat. “Please, don’t eat fast on my behalf. Take your time.”
“I always eat fast.”
“Why?”
“I grew up with six brothers. They’d scarf everything down. If I didn’t match their pace, they’d leave me without dessert.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Six brothers, huh?”
“Yes, and a baby sister. We’re a big family.” She fixes the paper napkin on her lap, squeezes some hand sanitizer, and then grabs a spoon.
While she’s eating, I study her. Brown hair with some auburn highlights, fine facial features, and her heart-shaped lips are tempting. She’s pretty and probably too young. She might be just fresh out of college.
“You don’t have to stop eating on my account,” she says.
I shake my head, wondering what it is about her that hypnotizes me. Since we’re sharing a meal, I extend my hand. “Elliot McPhee.”
She smiles, meeting it. “Sorry, where are my manners? I’m Fern. My mind is all over the place today. People are just… not very nice.”
I can’t help but chuckle at her politeness. “Anything I can do to help?”
After a long yet soft exhale, she says, “If you can find a construction company that can take on my project, maybe?”
“There are plenty in this area. I doubt any of them will turn down a job.”
“You’d think. I just finished a meeting with North Bay Construction company, and they shut me down when I said this is for a foundation, and I was hoping they’d donate—”
“Wait, you went to one of the biggest construction companies in the Bay area asking for a donation, and they rejected you?”
“Try biggest in the state,” she corrects me with a smirk on her plumped lips. “And yes, I dared to ask them to work for me. Not that they let me say much.”
“Biggest company on the West Coast, but that’s not the point,” I argue with humor in my voice. “What in the world did you ask for that they shut you down?”
She sighs. “I made the mistake of mentioning the words charity and donation. Even before I could pitch my project to them, they ushered me toward the exit. Which is weird because aren’t construction companies supposed to woo their future clients?”
“Usually. Why did you flip the roles?”
“Who said it was my doing?”
“You.” I grab a chip from the bag and munch on it as I consider offering my services. I know a lot about construction and spend most of my time doing volunteer work. We could help each other. “Why don’t you tell me more about this project they rejected?”
She takes a bite of her sandwich. After chewing and swallowing, she explains, “I want a community with affordable housing close to the city. We have the lots, but before I can even tell the board what we’re doing, I need to have an architect willing to design them, and a crew—”