Holiday Hire (The Cartwright Family #2)

Chapter 7

7

Alexander

" W here are they?" I question the boys, annoyed. But it figures. Anytime Willow's involved with anyone, we're late.

Standing near the truck, I put my hand on my hip and stare at the front door. It opens, and my sister and Phoebe step out.

My heart almost stops. Phoebe's wearing skinny jeans and a turquoise midriff-baring, long-sleeve top with hints of yellow and orange. She has a tan jacket over it, brown and turquoise suede cowboy boots, and a matching hat. Her long magenta hair is in curls, and her lips are painted red.

They walk toward me, and my blood buzzes. The same floral scent I've been smelling all week flares in my nostrils. I hold in a groan. It's the most intoxicating thing I've ever smelled, and it's been driving me nuts.

My sister chirps, "She cleans up well, doesn't she?"

I keep an annoyed look on my face, wishing Willow wasn't coming with us. The rest of my family's already left for the rodeo, but Willow seems to have made it a mission to become besties with Phoebe. I normally wouldn't care, but Willow is intent on parading Phoebe around all the bull riders.

I don't care.

I do.

No, I don't.

She's only here until Monday anyway, I remind myself.

"Those cowboys aren't going to know what hit them when they see you," Willow says to Phoebe, beaming at her and continuing to annoy me.

I go to the passenger door and open it. "Let's move," I order. It comes out sounding a tad nasty.

Phoebe meets my eyes and offers, "Sorry we took so long."

"It's fine. Let's go before we miss the whole rodeo," I reply.

She gets in the front, and Willow climbs in the back next to her nephews. I shut the door, go around, and slide into the driver's seat. I start the engine and then pull through the gate, barely listening to my sister babble with my sons and Phoebe. I concentrate on the road, wishing her scent wouldn't stay so pungent in the cab.

I don't say anything the entire ride to town. And before I know it, Willow's pulling Phoebe through the crowd, and my uneasiness grows.

"Dad, can we go with Aunt Willow?" Wilder asks.

"No," I say, knowing she's taking Phoebe where the bull riders hang out. It's a VIP lounge, and it's not far from our VIP area, but I don't like it. I steer my kids into the room where my family already is, and sidle up next to my brothers.

"Where's Sebastian?" I ask.

"He just called. He and Georgia are running late. They should be here any minute though," Mason answers.

I nod. I have some things I need to talk to Sebastian about, and I've always preferred to do things in person. I wish he'd come back to live on the ranch, but I also know someone has to stay in Dallas. Plus, it's where he and Georgia thrive. Their careers are there. My brother is brilliant at running the corporate end of our businesses and doing all the things in Dallas I would never want to do. And Georgia's cupcake franchise is taking off.

As if on cue, my brother bellows out, "What are you all waiting for? Where's my drink?"

I spin toward his voice.

Georgia laughs, shaking her head. Everyone greets them with hugs and kisses.

Georgia embraces me.

I ask, "How are the plans for the new bakery coming along?"

Her face lights up. "Great. I love our new franchise owners. They're going to do well."

I grin. "That's great news. I'm really proud of you," I tell her, excited that her dreams are coming true.

"Thanks. I couldn't have done it without Sebastian though."

I grunt. "Eh. Not true. You would've gotten there on your own."

Sebastian joins us, declaring, "I keep telling her that. She doesn't listen though." He hands Georgia a can of seltzer and then takes a long sip of his beer.

She takes a sip and asks, "So, how are things going with Phoebe?"

Phoebe. I forgot about her for a brief minute.

I shrug. "Fine. She'll be gone on Monday though."

Amusement fills Georgia's expression. Her lips twitch. She tilts her head, questioning, "Really? You haven't found any value in her?"

The question makes me feel guilty, especially with Georgia looking at me like that, but I answer, "No."

Georgia's voice turns stern. "Alexander, you've found zero value in Phoebe? There's nothing she's done that's been helpful?"

"No, I didn't say that."

She keeps pushing. "I figured. So tell me the things she's done that you see as valuable."

The hairs on my arms rise. I stepped into a trap. I didn't think Georgia would do that to me, but she has. I ignore her question and ask, "So you're on their side too?"

She shakes her head. "I'm not on anyone's side. Well, I'm on all of your sides. So tell me what value she's added."

"You can't be on everyone's side," I state, ignoring her demand again.

"Well, I am. I love all of you and want what's best for you. But I'd love to know what value you see in Phoebe. Because I know she's worth a lot more than you're giving her credit for."

I sigh. "I didn't say she wasn't worth anything. I admit she has done some valuable things."

"Okay. Like?" She arches her eyebrows, waiting.

I confess, "She was helpful with the boys' homework, especially with that TEKS math crap. You know I hate that stuff."

Georgia nods. "Yeah, I hear most parents don't like it."

I grunt. "It's the most useless thing I've ever seen. Why can't they teach kids the normal way?"

Georgia shrugs. "No idea. But it's good that Phoebe understands it, especially since your kids have to learn it. Is there anything else?"

I rack my brain, not wanting to answer, but a list of things scrolls through it.

"Come on. Phoebe's had to have done more good stuff than just homework."

Sighing, I cave, and answer, "She put groceries in my house. I'll admit it's nice for the kids or me to grab a snack. And the other night, she cooked. It was a nice change to eat at home instead of at Mom and Dad's.

"Is she a good cook?" Georgia questions.

I hesitate but admit, "She made some pretty mean tacos."

Amusement fills Georgia's expression. She teases, "Well, Alexander, I do believe that a girl from California who can make tacos in Texas is a winner."

I reply with a "Hmm," not wanting to admit much more.

"Is there any other way she's added value?"

I can think of all the things Phoebe has done in the last few days, but I still don't want to reveal them all to Georgia.

I'm saved by Mason, who teasingly shouts, "Get away from her! You're not worthy!"

I turn and squeeze my fists at my side.

One of the bull riders, Jericho, who I've never liked and tries to date Willow all the time, is talking to Phoebe. Before I can think about it, I charge toward them.

Right as I get there, I hear him say, "Come on, just give me your number. It's not that hard. Plus, I'm not a psycho."

"Yeah, he is," I interject, glaring at him.

He jerks his head back. "Man, why are you interfering in my business?"

"Phoebe's business is my business," I claim.

"Oh?" she says in surprise.

Jericho scoffs. "Yeah? How's that?" He glances at Phoebe, then adds, "She doesn't look like she agrees with your statement, man."

I meet Phoebe's eyes.

A blush crawls up her neck and into her cheeks.

Directing my disapproval back on Jericho, I declare, "She doesn't date. She's got a boyfriend, so back off."

Surprise fills his expression. He asks Phoebe, "Is that true? You're taken? Willow said you weren't."

She gapes between me and Jericho.

I ignore her expression and affirm, "She is. She's on a break with her boyfriend, but it's just a break. They're just taking some space from each other," I say, as if I actually understand their stupid arrangement.

Jericho puts his hands up. "All right, man. Phoebe, let me know when you're done with that dude, and we'll exchange numbers." He walks away.

Phoebe stares at me.

I can't tell if she's unhappy or glad I stepped in, but I suddenly feel foolish. I blurt out, "He's the biggest moron here. You can do better than that."

She studies me for a moment, then bites out, "Do you think you can keep my business to yourself?"

I freeze, my heart beating faster.

She continues, "I can decide who I want to know my business, but it's my decision, not yours. And I already told him I didn't want his number. There wasn't any reason for you to step in and shout my personal problems all over the place."

"He wasn't taking no for an answer. I know that slimeball."

She puts her hand on her hip. "We're in a public place. He asked for my number. I'm more than capable of replying and deciding whether I want to give it to him or not."

"Well, what's the point? You're only here until Monday," I remind her, then instantly regret it.

Anger flares on her cheeks and she glares at me.

All the times I've said that to her this week, I've never seen her angry, but I realize she is, and maybe I've said it too many times and pushed her too far.

She releases a deep breath. In a calm tone and through gritted teeth, she asks, "Why don't you remind me one more time?"

I instantly feel bad. In reality, my life would be much easier if I kept Phoebe here. She is valuable, and I recognize that. My life's been easy this week because she's helped out so much, and the boys love her. So do the other kids. Hell, my entire family loves her.

I need to prove to them that I can care for my children, with or without my parents here.

Before I can apologize for being such a dick, she spins and stomps toward Willow. For the rest of the night, she doesn't talk to me.

I try to think of what to say to get her back on my side or at least not be angry with me, but nothing comes to mind. The whole night, I watch her, barely taking in any of the rodeo or hearing the conversations around me.

Even when Sebastian tries to talk to me about several business ventures we need to discuss, I can't keep my mind on it. There's only one thing it's on, and it's how to get back into her good graces.

It all confuses me. I don't even understand why I care about her feelings, but every time she roams into our VIP area, I feel guilty. She interacts with the kids, chasing them when they're running around between the bull rides. My family fusses over her, and to everyone, it looks like we're fine.

I know we're not though.

She's still upset with me, and every time Willow tugs her across the rodeo to the riders' area, my gut churns.

At the end of the night, we get into the truck. She sits in the back with the boys, and Willow sits in the passenger seat. My mind races the entire drive home. We pull up to the ranch, and there's a sports car sitting outside the gate with its lights on.

I roll down the window, and ask the guard, "Who's in the sports car?"

He replies, "Guy says he's Phoebe's boyfriend from California. Name's Lance."

My insides tighten. I glance at Phoebe. "Are you expecting company?"

She shakes her head, answering, "No. I don't know what he's doing here."

I want to tell her to get rid of him, but she jumps out of the truck and goes to his vehicle before I can say more.

He gets out of his car, and I cringe. He looks as California as they come with blond, disheveled surfer hair. But it also has a preppy style to it. I figure he's a country club boy.

He towers over her, but he isn't as tall as me. He grabs her, hugging her so tight he lifts her off her feet.

I grip the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white.

She protests, "Lance, put me down."

I get out of the truck just as my parents pull up.

Dad rolls down his window. "What's going on here?"

"Um... I... Uh..." Phoebe stammers, trying to find her words.

Lance strolls over to my dad's car and sticks his hand out. "I'm Phoebe's boyfriend, Lance. I hope it's okay that I flew out here to surprise her."

"Well, of course it is," Dad states, and I scowl at him, hating everything about this situation. The only thing I like is that Phoebe looks shocked and not entirely happy he's here.

Mom says, "Well, you'll have to stay the weekend. You can take the guesthouse so you two have your privacy."

I tense.

No. That isn't happening. She cannot stay with this douchebag.

I blurt out, "I'm sure he'd be more comfortable in a hotel."

Lance turns and studies me. "Sorry, who are you?"

I hate everything about this guy.

Who does he think he is, questioning me on my property?

Phoebe quickly interjects. "This is my boss, Alexander. His boys, Wilder and Ace, are the ones I take care of."

"Oh, nice to meet you." Lance offers me his hand, but he doesn't like me any more than I like him. I take it and squeeze as hard as I can.

His eyes widen. I hang on longer than I should, until I finally release it.

He pulls his hand back, scowling.

"Well, don't sit out here all night. Let's all get through the gates," Mom directs.

Phoebe grabs the truck door, and Lance questions, "You're not coming with me?"

She freezes, catches my eye, then turns toward him. She sighs. "Okay, I'll ride with you."

I want to protest but don't. Adding to my disdain is his incompetence on how to be a gentleman and open the door for her.

She gets into his car, and everyone pulls through the gates. I stare after them, trying to calm my skyrocketing pulse.

"Dad, let's go," Wilder commands.

"Yeah, what are you doing?" Willow questions.

I begrudgingly get into the truck and pull up to the house.

Mom's already hugging Lance, which only irritates me further.

I step beside Phoebe, stating, "Didn't realize we were going to have company."

She shakes her head. "I didn't invite him."

"You want me to get rid of him?" I say quietly.

The corners of her lips turn up, and I almost think she'll say yes until my mom steps between us.

"Phoebe, darling, do you want the butterfly or stallion guesthouse?"

Phoebe doesn't answer.

Mom continues, "Do you remember which is which?"

I groan, wishing my mom would shut her mouth and not interfere.

Phoebe replies, "Either is fine, but honestly, he can stay in a hotel. I don't want to put you out, especially with no notice."

"Nonsense. You pick which guesthouse you want, then go get your stuff from your room," Mom orders.

"Stuff from my room?"

"Yes. You'll want some things so you won't have to run back and forth all weekend, right?" Mom answers.

My gut churns. She cannot stay with this idiot all weekend.

"Won't the boys need me?" Phoebe asks.

Mom waves her hand, answering, "Nah."

At the same time, I say, "Yes."

Both my mom and Phoebe stare at me in surprise.

Oh shit. What did I say?

Mom's expression looks disapproving. In a stern voice, she states, "I think you can handle them for a night, Alexander. Can't you?" She shoots me a challenging stare.

My insides tremble. I'm caught between a rock and a hard place, so I admit, "Yeah, of course I can."

"I thought so," Mom replies, then pats Phoebe on the arm. "So, dear, do you want the butterfly or stallion guesthouse?"

My chest tightens, and I don't move. I try to figure out how to make sure Phoebe stays in my house and not with her moron boyfriend.

He needs to leave Texas quickly. If he doesn't, I'm going to have to toss him out.