Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

Micah

"I don't care how we're related. There's no way I'm going to go watch people play around with a ball on a field while I sweat my ass off, Mo. It's not on my list of things I want to do. Like, ever."

The man across the line grumbles some unintelligible words as I dig through the fabric samples in the bin before me. Normally, I'd try to call him out for it since I hate people talking shit about me.

Today, I don't have the patience.

My will to live is drastically low thanks to the workload I'm under. When I decided to go into event planning, I had no idea the level of constant pressure I'd feel. I'd give anything to take a few days off to relax away from work commitments.

Too bad my boss is a dick.

Did I mention I'm my own boss?

Yeah, the self-employment life isn't always sunshine and roses. In fact, it's often forgotten coffee, rushed deadlines, and talking to yourself at an alarming rate.

I spot the perfect lace fabric in the midst of my inner turmoil. "Ah-ha! Gotcha!"

"Let me guess… You're at some thrift shop sorting through stuff for the business again? Why do you do that when I can just front you the cash for whatever you want?"

Rolling my eyes, I gather the fabric. I add it to the reusable tote I have slung across my body, then dive back in to see if I can find more treasure.

"Because then I'd feel like I owe you something. The business itself is fine. You know what my income is like better than anyone."

"So you're going with your ‘save the planet' bullshit as the reason you spend hours digging through those bins and scouring for stuff at pennies on the dollar? And yes, I do know how much you make. It didn't feel right to point it out," he tells me passionately.

It's always funny to get him riled up. He never disappoints to lose his cool.

Part of the reason he's so good at football and got drafted so young is because of his tenacious nature. While our parents were proud, they also remembered fighting him tooth and nail as a teen. Given we were only a few months apart in age when our parents met and got married, I also got a front-row seat to his foolishness.

Monty Tempest is a brat through and through.

"It's not bullshit. Do you know the data on how much trash we put into landfills each year? Have you heard the statistics of how long we have left for Earth to be uninhabitable? The least I can do is recycle a bit here and there to help. The money isn't the motivation. Plus, it's fun."

I glance around the warehouse to see if anyone is listening in on my conversation. The last thing I need is to get labeled a ‘tree hugger' at one of my regular places.

Though the term isn't all that derogatory. Especially not when you think of all the instances in which said huggers helped save something the money-hungry corporations were trying to destroy.

Shaking my head to rid the errant thoughts, I focus on what Monty is saying.

"All I'm asking is that my brother come see a game or two this season. I don't have anyone else to come watch. Mom and Dad are too busy with the campaign trail to take time away." I can hear the sadness in his voice at the mention of our parents.

I have to admit, it's got me a bit down too. Election years are always hard. Mom is dedicated to making changes in this country, and Dad can't help but to be there every step of the way to support her. I love it as much as I hate it.

"She'll have the win in a landslide. They shouldn't worry so much," I say to him softly. "If it's really important to you, then I'll come through. Is there any spot with A/C though? I'm not the biggest fan of unnecessary sweating, you know."

He chuckles. "I could put you up in a box, but you'll barely see the game from there. I was thinking sideline seats with some of the other families. And to sweeten the pot, you can have access to the afterparty. You might make more connections for this business of yours. It could boost your bottom line."

"My bottom doesn't need boosting," I whisper shout. A rough cough comes from my left.

An elderly woman watches me with a smirk. "I would say not. Looks rather firm and lifted from here."

I turn crimson at the sultry way she speaks.

"Umm… thank you? I'll just…" I wave behind me, then take off with my bag in an effort to avoid the woman.

"What just happened? Why are you breathing hard?"

Monty's terse words calm my racing heart. I drop my bag at the register, then answer him.

"Some woman commented on the firmness and shape of my butt because of you. I'm never going to be able to come back here again," I whine.

Laughter comes across the line as Monty loses it. The asshole has always found my uncomfortable moments amusing.

"That'll be $6.42, please." I glance up to see the cashier giving me a bored look. Sending a thanks for small victories, I pay him and leave expeditiously.

My brother continues to laugh as I load my bag up and then start the car. It's only once the Bluetooth connects that I hear him calm down.

"Have fun laughing at my expense?" I question.

"Always," he answers without hesitation. "Now then, which two games do you want to come to?"

I think it over for a second. "Whichever games you think I'll enjoy most, I guess. You're still linked to my calendar to see when I'm working, right? Keep away from those weekends and we're good."

Monty hums. "I can do that. You'll get an email later today with ticket information. I can have a car sent to grab you on game day if you'd like. I know how much you hate traffic."

It's a nice thought. I do hate being stuck on the road behind all the annoying drivers.

At least Bellport isn't as bad as some other places I've lived. We did stints in Los Angeles, Las Vegas, and New York City before my mom met Monty's dad. For the first time in our lives, Mom decided she'd found the home she'd been looking for.

Lucky for me, it came with an annoying brother close enough in age to confuse damn near everyone we came across from that point on. Some even asked if we were twins because of how alike we looked.

Ha! No way.

When I don't say anything else, Monty tells me he has to head to practice. I hang up the phone as I make my way to the boutique. I'll need to sort the fabrics I bought today, and then I'll check in with Danny about his follow-up calls.

As my apprentice of sorts, he's always eager to do as much as possible to help me. He's also the type to get bored easily. When I interviewed him, he explained how his neurodiversity had caused him issues at previous jobs. Offended on his behalf, I hired him on the spot. He's been one of my better decisions in this business.

The delicate scrollwork on the hanging sign showing Booked in Bellport gleams in the golden hour light above the door to the shop. I park out front, then hop out to head inside.

Danny greets me with a wave and grin as he talks into the phone. His pen scrawls across his notebook, likely taking copious notes for whatever the client is asking for. He knows we strive to give them the best we can with each event. Sometimes that means ice sculptures in the heat of the summer — not an easy task — and other times it's simply listening to them chatter about their options for however long it takes for them to decide on one thing.

Moving past him, I slip into the backroom where my supplies are kept. There are shelves set up in various rows holding large black tubs with yellow lids. Each is labeled with a QR code so I can easily find what I need in my app.

Fortunately for me, I don't have to look this time to get what I need done. I've been adding to my fabric boxes more than anything lately. Walking over to the correct row, I trek down the space until I'm beside the right tub. I empty my new bag of fabric inside, then replace the lid tightly. Lifting it up, I make my way to the washer and dryer in the corner.

Since this bin is officially full, it's time to properly clean all the fabrics in it. It's a silly method, but it works for me. Why wash a tiny slip of lace or two at a time when I could do a larger load of similar fabrics?

Plus, if I washed as I went, then Danny would never remember to change the load. It's his responsibility to take care of such things when I'm out of the office, which is about sixty percent of the time.

"Hey, Micah! How was your hunt?" Speak of the devil.

Danny leans against the washing machine, his gaze gleeful as he watches me measure out detergent. I shake my head at him, though not in anger. Danny is the younger brother I never had. He's basically what I thought Monty was going to be when Mom announced I was getting a sibling.

"It went fine." Up to the point where an old lady assessed my body a touch too closely.

"You may want to tell your face that. It's a little…" he scrunched his face to imitate whatever he saw on mine. Rather than the frustration I felt being reflected back, it was more of something you'd see in a comedy sketch or something.

I shove his shoulder away so I can shut the lid. "You're hilarious, Danny."

"No need to be sarcastic. I'm only telling you so you don't scare anyone away today. How will you ever meet the love of your life if you're scowling?"

Scowling? Oh no. I can't be pulling a Monty. He's the king of the grouchy face. Anyone who meets him knows.

"It's not intentional, Danny. Had to end my trip a bit early. My brother called again about coming to a game. Seems I will now be attending two of the Bellport Bulldogs games in the near future."

His jaw drops. "Holy crap! Are you serious? I thought it was impossible to get tickets."

I tilt my head. "Danny… you do know my brother plays on the team, right?"

"Wh… what? I didn't know that!"

"Huh," I reply with a deep frown. "I guess that makes sense. Monty's schedule is too busy for him to come here during business hours. And we haven't done family stuff in ages with my parents on the campaign trail. But yeah — my stepbrother is Monty Tempest. He's number 79, I think."

My employee stares at me with the widest eyes I've ever seen him make. It takes him way too long to blink, then his hands are on my shoulders.

"Please, please, please tell me you can get me tickets. I've been dying to go to a game for ages. It's been hard to get seats since the team is so good," he begs.

I shrug. "Best I can do is ask Monty. He'll probably do it to ensure I've got back-up coming with me. Despite him being my brother, I'm not all that into sports."

"I can tell. If I'd had a sibling that famous, I'd have told the world."

And that right there was the main difference between me and Danny. I had no desire for the fame of having a famous sibling. It wasn't anything I earned, nor did I want the media down my throat. It was tough enough in this business to find genuine people who wouldn't walk all over you to get to the top. I couldn't imagine what it would be like if they thought they had an ‘in' with my family.

Fame and fortune are not for me.

Ok, maybe the fortune is. We can leave the fame to someone else though. I'd rather stick to the background.