Jose's Surrender by Remmy Duchene (epub e reader .txt) 📗

one thing he hated, it was showing up at a meeting looking disheveled. He took a breath, darted out through the light rain, and sped across the street. He pressed the remote to open the car door and all but dove into the front seat. Rain wasn't his favorite thing

on the best of days. Once the door was closed, he turned on the ignition and wiped his palms against his thighs to dry them. After a quick break to allow the car a little time to warm up, he pulled from the parking lot and turned the car toward Eros. It'd been a long morning and all he wanted to do was get away. But he had a meeting with Laird he couldn't very well miss.

He turned the radio on to boring music, made a face and flipped it off. He drove the rest of the way to Laird's place in silence. When he got there, he was still damp but the rain had stopped so he figured that was an upside. He grabbed his portfolio, tucked it under an arm, finger-raked his hair back, and pushed from the leather seat. He let himself into the large house and kicked off his shoes.

"Laird?" he called, stopping to glance at himself in the mirror. His hair was damp but otherwise it looked fine.

He hated the dim way his green eyes stared back at him.

They were his father's eyes. "Laird? You here?"

"In the den," Laird hollered.

José took one final look at himself then walked through the foyer, down a hall and emerged into the den.

He placed his portfolio on the desk before one of his best friends, flopped into a leather seat, and groaned dramatically.

"What's wrong with you?" Laird asked, laughter in

his voice.

José lifted his head and inhaled deeply. "Oh the horror," he joked. "I went to get a new pair of shoes since the bottom of the only black pair I own fell off the other night. I couldn't find any that fit right."

Laird chuckled. "You just need to go shopping somewhere other than Century for once."

"And that's not even the worst part. The painter I had on staff decided, out of the blue, he wanted to move to Africa for a year to work with some kind of charity organization—what am I supposed to do now?"

"Oh please, that guy was always more than a little off. I don't know how you kept him around as long as you did."

"He was good."

"I guess that's something to make up for his random tantrums and weird-ass outbursts."

"Now I have to find a new one."

"I met a guy last night at Anatolis who's a painter.

Race has him doing some pieces for the vacation house."

"So you two finally know what to do with Race's house, huh?"

Laird nodded. "Yup. We're going to rent it out as a vacation property for tourists who want a nice place on the beach for their accommodations. Race likes the idea and

he's going through all the paperwork now. It would help to have some nice art pieces on the walls. Anyways, this guy I'm telling you about—he just moved into town. Maybe you can talk to him about freelancing for you when you need him. That way you don't have to pay him a salary, only when he does work for you."

José leaned forward, elbows on his knees and fingers laced, and arched a brow at Laird. "Really? What a coincidence."

"He lives out by the Kenzie place so I guess you could pay him a visit."

"Great. Me going out to talk to a strange man out by the Kenzie place. That's not weird at all."

Laird laughed. "Would you stop being such a drama queen? He looked harmless enough."

José made a face. "What if he tries to have his way with me? Are you going to defend my honor?"

"Defend… um… defend your what, now?"

"My honor… virtue…"

Laird stared at him with a blank expression before bursting into laughter. Laird laughed so hard he doubled over, forehead pressed against his desk with a large fist hitting the mahogany surface repeatedly.

"Well, fine. If you're going to be a jerk about it."

José rose and exited the room to Laird's laughter echoing

through the large house after him. He walked into the kitchen and pulled open the fridge. There wasn't much in the way of cooked food in there but he managed to snag a Jamaican Patty from the freezer and stuck it into the toaster oven to thaw and heat. Since Laird's brother Savaro had married a Jamaican descendant, they had all kinds of yummy Caribbean food lying around. While it warmed he took a bottle of chocolate milk from the fridge and twisted the cap off. The seal snapped and the cover fell into his hand. By then he heard footsteps coming toward him.

"I'm sorry," Laird chuckled. "You know I always have your back. What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm grumpy today is all."

"You? Grumpy? Why?"

José smiled softly and took a breath before taking a drink from the bottle. "I don't know. I guess I need to go out tonight… cheer myself up."

"Oh you'd cheer yourself up all right," Laird said, eyeing him with suspicion and leaning his back against the counter. "Just stay away from Jamaica."

José wanted to bang his head on a desk. "I'm never going to live that down, am I?"

Laird grinned impishly and shook his head.

José grinned. "So, changing the subject. Did you get the place for your new offices yet?"

"Yes. I found some offices in Century. I just want you to make the place look welcoming and ready for clients in four months."

"Four months? How many floors are we talking here?"

"Eight. This is a small office since I won't be there to run it."

"Average rooms per floor?"

"Twelve. The first floor is the lobby. I don't want much down there. I had them knock out all the offices but two. One is for the security system and the other is for the security office. All