2. Fixer Upper

FIXER UPPER

My assistant,Marie, brings me my preferred coffee. She places it on the same leather coaster every morning, just as she starts going through my scheduled day.

I'm the only one who had any interest in the family business. It doesn't help that I was urged by my father and uncle for this path. It's not that I hate my job, or have aspirations for anything different, I'm just on auto-pilot. I don't find the same joy in the company that I used to, I suppose that extends to everything else in my life. Every day feels like a gloomy day, even in the bright disturbing sunshine that haunts me outside my office window.

"Krystal will be here this evening to discuss the conference in the fall to determine who from the team is going and what arrangements need to be made."

"Fuck, already?" I complain. The trade show features the same assholes every year followed by a circle jerk awards ceremony to measure dicks and strangle our pockets.

"Things book up quickly, and we need to finalize which employees are going to be nominated and who has a reason to go to the show."

Marie is no bullshit, efficient, and effortlessly in love with her husband. She makes my life easier, and there's literally not a flicker of sexual desire between either of us. I do my best to keep her happy so she doesn't leave me to work with someone with a better disposition.

I'd never had an interest in any of my employees before, and I don't plan to start anytime soon. There's work, Avalon, and my family. I don't need anything to fill the spaces between that.

"The forms are in your email about the categories. I've already filled out who I think would be the best nominations in sales, marketing, and we will need to submit for design of the year. Krystal will handle the hotel and corporate events while in Vegas."

"Thank you, Marie."

"Oh, and your dad called. He's picking you up to go to lunch." She drops that bomb before turning away and leaving my office.

Typical.

He stepped down and had me take over Carlson Commercial Enterprises, yet the old man can't seem to let go.

I open Marie's email and scrub my face; I was half asleep when Penny texted me last night and I couldn't fall asleep after. I knew I was being too hard on her, but I was so fucking angry.

It's frustrating watching her never reach her potential. She's smart and capable but dates the biggest losers you could imagine, but more than anything, that man putting hands on her nearly sent me over the edge. I've always had a slight protectiveness over my cousin. Maybe it's because we always felt like the odd ones out.

My oldest brother, Aiden, had his sights on professional baseball early on and it was his life. My younger twin brothers, Gavin and Benjamin, have been connected at the hip since birth. So it left me the ornery middle child, and the cousin who took a significant amount of time to piece together with the family. I'm seven years older than my twin brothers and Penny, so I remember watching her slow evolution into getting comfortable around all of us. Well, mostly.

I should text her, make sure that she's alright, and that she doesn't go back to that dick bag lawyer's house. But she's a grown ass woman, and it's none of my business what she does with her life.

Marie's email is thorough and I add a few employees in for awards, in total, twenty of us will be attending the event in October. I forward the email to both Marie and Krystal while I look over the plans for the land we want to purchase towards the border.

The day flies by as lunch time hits and my dad comes strolling into the office like he owns the place—technically he does.

"Pizza sound good?" he asks, looking over the space that used to be his corner office, which is now mine.

"That works," I tell him as I shut down my computer, grab my phone and wallet, and head outside into the sweltering fucking sun that seems to spite me.

My dad drives because he's a control freak who can't let go—maybe it's genetic.

"Collin Kemper is fading. Have you spoken to Aiden?" he asks.

I clear my throat and nod. I'm closest to Aiden out of all of my brothers. He's three years older, but we have the most in common. He co-owns a sports supply company with Collin Kemper, who is slowly losing his battle with cancer.

"He's been busy trying to keep Kemper's up and running while Collin's been sick."

"He hasn't been answering my calls or wanting to schedule anything. I thought maybe you could talk to him, get him out of the office, and take a little break."

"I can do that," I tell my dad.

"And what about you? How are things at the office?"

"Don't act like you don't have Marjorie in HR spy on me."

"It's not spying, she plays mahjong with your mother, if I happen to overhear things."

"Yeah, sure, dad."

"She says you work too much," he says as we pull up to the pizza place.

"Is that a bad thing?"

"I know times are different now, but when I was your age I had four sons, one of them entering middle school and a wife to come home to. I don't want you to lock yourself away, Linc."

"I'm dedicated to the company," I say, resisting the urge to walk back to the office so I can be spared this talk.

If there's one issue with the Carlson family, it's that they're all up in each other's shit. It's why I've kept so much to myself. It's easier that way.

"It's just I thought you and Vanessa were happy, and then we never saw her again."

"Drop it, Dad," I say as I hold open the door and we sit at a table and order food.

"It's been four years, Lincoln."

I sigh and look at my dad, trying to plead with him to change the conversation.

"It didn't work out. She's married now."

I don't mention all the other details of that horrific breakup or how long she's actually been married. Anytime I think of Vanessa I get a fucking ulcer and find myself wanting to drink myself into a coma. It's best not to remember what happened four years ago and how it's all been fucking down hill from there.

"I just worry about you is all."

"I know, Dad."

Me too.

"I should get home,"Aiden says, sipping his whiskey.

It's uncanny how much we look alike. He's a little taller, his eyes a little greener than blue, and right now his dark hair that matches mine is slightly shorter. But the Carlson brothers are undoubtedly carbon copies of our father in looks and size.

"We just got here," I say as Tex pours me another beer.

"It's just not going to work for me tonight," Aiden says, and I smack his shoulder.

"We can stay at the bar," I suggest.

The front of Avalon is set up like any high end bar would be. You wouldn't suspect that once you go into the backrooms, everyone is giving into their most intimate fantasies. Aiden and I are both members, but we do our best to keep some secrets between us.

Front of the house is a safe zone. Once you go into the back, all bets are off and where we head our separate ways.

"How's Collin?" I ask, and Aiden rubs his face.

"Not good. He dropped a serious fucking bomb on me today. I think he knows it's the end."

"What did he say?"

Aiden downs the rest of his drink before looking at me. "That he has a twenty-five-year-old daughter from an affair and to make sure that she's a part of the last will and testament."

"Collin?" I ask, shocked.

The man is about as wholesome as you can imagine. The idea of him having a twenty-five-year-old kid somewhere out there that he didn't take care of is completely out of character.

"Fucking tell me about it. So on top of managing everyone at work, preparing for the inevitable when it comes to Collin, now I have this shit to deal with."

"Fuck."

"Yeah, you're telling me. Pretty sure he's telling Abigail and Zach about it tonight."

I wince over the thought of him telling his wife of over thirty years and his son this big of a secret while he's on his deathbed.

Aiden rubs his hand across his face and looks back at me.

"Everything good with you?"

"Yeah, just working."

"I'm going to head out. Thanks for getting me out for at least a little while though, I needed it."

"If you need anything else, just let me know, man."

He smacks my back as he leaves, walking out of Avalon. I pick up my drink and head to the back rooms.

Avalon is huge, but the main space when you leave the bar is mainly for exhibitionism and meeting new people. It's a luxury club, everything decorated in rich golds and luxe matte black. It's a weekday, so it isn't as crowded as I take a seat by myself.

Couples have been more popular at the club than singles lately, and shit has been getting messy.

Too messy for my liking.

I like my life in a predictable, neat box.

When I come to Avalon, I want things cut and dry. I'm only here to fuck. Nothing more, nothing less.

It's how I like my life, the more I can control, the more information I know the less I have to worry about things going to shit. Routines, organization, and structure make me feel in control.

Yet…

"Fuck," I hiss under my breath as Colleen approaches me.

It's not that anything is wrong with the woman. She's pretty, smart, no major personality disorders that I can discern, but she is clingy.

I don't do clingy.

Nothing makes my dick limper than over eagerness, I'm well aware it's a character flaw. Or maybe I'm just a prick.

But Colleen is one of the few single women here, so we've played on more than one occasion. I can tell she wants more. She tried to kiss me last time, even though that's one of my hard limits.

"Lincoln, there you are. It's been awhile," she says, her voice pleasant and soft.

I'm not sure what's wrong with me, she's open, attractive, but I find myself completely disinterested at this moment.

"I've been busy."

"You didn't answer my texts about when you would be here next," she says.

Lesson fucking learned. I'm never giving my number to anyone here ever again. Honestly, I should probably look for a different club, this one has shifted since it first opened a few years ago. I'm not sure that it fits in with my tastes the same way it used to.

"Did I do something wrong?" she asks and I wish someone would fucking smite me so I didn't have to live through the rest of this impending conversation.

It's not Colleen"s fault that she likes me. We fuck. It's hot, and sometimes that can lead to feelings. But she doesn't really like me, she doesn't even know me. If she did, she'd run far away looking for a nice guy who can at least learn how to work a vibrator.

"The only thing I'm good for is my cock, Colleen. If you want anything else, you're looking in the wrong place," I tell her honestly. I'm not the boyfriend type, I'm the guy you fuck and then realize you want a husband who is actually emotionally available.

She swallows, her back going straighter as she glares at me.

How I'm the bad guy for not wanting more while fucking at a no strings attached sex club when my intentions have always been clear, I'm not sure. But I have no problems with being labeled an asshole, I could be called much worse things.

I click my teeth and shake my head. "You can't change me, Colleen. I'm not some fixer-upper boyfriend that you met at a sex club and it turned into a fairy tale romance."

Her mouth opens and closes sharply.

"A text saying you aren't interested would have been enough, asshole."

She stomps away, headed toward the locker rooms as she leaves my space. With the mood thoroughly killed, I head back to the entrance. I stop by the calendar to see upcoming events, hoping they are recruiting for more single people when I see that they will be opening more specific rooms, one of which might solve all my problems.

Maybe I won't cancel my membership after all.