Page 56 of Austin

He scowls. “If I have to answer that, then I’m going to seriously reconsider your placement behind that desk.”

“How are your forearms tan? I haven’t seen you show elbow since Oprah was on air.”

He looks down at his arms. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Oprah Winfrey. She had a talk show that was one of the most influential—”

“I meant, about my arms, Austin.”

I grin at his annoyance. “While I like seeing this laid-back and casual version of Bryce Sexton, I have to say, I’m surprised. You’ve worn a suit and tie every day since …” I stall, my mind wandering back to the last time I saw my brother looking casual. I know he works out, but other than that, I can’t recall any other time I’ve seen Bryce looking relaxed. “Since Mom died.”

His brows curve in contemplation as his hand fists tight around the canvas duffel bag he’s carrying. The coal black of his eyes widen slightly, as if he’s realizing something for the first time, and for a moment, he looks almost remorseful.

I give Bryce a lot of shit because that’s the relationship we’ve developed over the years. Before we became kings, we were brothers, sons, and friends. It might seem crazy, but the look he has right now is reminiscent of the Bryce I once knew, the one he left behind.

He clears his throat and looks up at me. “I’m going to Tahoe.”

“Tahoe?”

“For a few days.”

I have to look at my calendar to see if I have the date correct. “You’re going to Tahoe during the workweek?”

He seems annoyed. “You’re the last person who should be giving me shit on where I’m going and when.”

My hand rises up in defense. “Not gonna hear a peep from me. Just surprised you’re actually going to play hooky. So, who’s the girl?”

“There’s no girl.” His jaw hardens.

“My apologies,” I say sincerely. Then, I add, “Who’s the guy?”

“Jesus Christ, do you ever stop?” he spits.

I laugh. “No judgments, man. Love is love.”

With a stern look on his face, he opens the door but stops, as if he’s just remembered what he needed to say to me. “The reception is pretty shitty at the house, so email if you need me. And don’t forget, dinner’s at eight.”

I’m still laughing at his obvious displeasure when those last words resonate in my head. “Dinner?”

“Yes, Missy’s dinner party. It’s at Saison.”

My seat swerves faster than a Mustang on a dirt road. “If you’re not going, why do I have to?”

His shoulders fall as his gaze rolls back to mine. “I’ve spent the past eight years going to every event that every other member of the Sexton family has been too busy to attend. For once, I just want my brother to pick up the slack and take one for the team.”

My blood immediately starts to boil at the notion that I do nothing for this company. It’s the same battle cry I’ve been hearing about from him since I was eighteen years old.

Yet there is a foreign look in his eyes and a drop in the tone of his voice that makes that boil simmer down.

I pause before going on my diatribe and listen to what he’s asking. I don’t know whom Bryce is going away with, but she must be pretty special because this is the first time he’s ever done this. He’s never skipped work, he’s never bailed on our father, and he certainly has never referenced me as his teammate.

“I’ll be there,” I respond with a nod.

His brows flinch in surprise. “Thank you.”

“Bryce,” I call as he starts to make his way out the door.

He stops and turns.