“We swear. We got this, Carter,” Ryan says. The other two nod eagerly, happy to be pleasing the legend, Tyson Carter.
“Then get to it,” he orders, and they all take off toward their cars. “You’re going to end up making a third more than normal after you give them their cuts.”
“Tyson.”
“We’ll see how this goes, and we can end up hiring more people if we need to. You’re the only person who will deliver in some of these rural areas out here in the country. You can turn this into something bigger and end up working less and making more. You have to turn down orders all the time because it’s not possible to get to them all. I even added some rush fees on some of these people.”
“I don’t know about this.” I worry my bottom lip between my teeth.
“These kids are looking for part-time after-school work. Especially during the holidays, and that’s when you have way more orders than you can handle yourself. This is a win all around.” I stare at him, not sure what to say. “Now you can decorate the tree tonight.”
“This is doing too much now.”
“When it comes to you, I’ll do anything.”
“But I have nothing to give in return, Tyson. You know that.”
“All I want is you.”
“There isn’t any of me to give.” I’m already stretched so thin.
“Right now, all I want is a kiss and to decorate a Christmas tree with my girl and her kickass little brothers who I love and adore almost as much as her.” He goes straight for my weakness. My brothers. Also, his kisses that I’m enjoying way too much.
“Shut up and kiss me, Tyson.”
Of course he does as I ask, making another crack in the wall I’ve been trying to build around my heart. The one I’m pretty sure already belongs to him.
CHAPTER 9
TYSON
“This feels like girl stuff.” Dean looks at my pile of supplies with narrowed eyes.
“The glue gun will not make your dick smaller, Dean. I promise.” I hand him a Styrofoam ball.
“What about glitter?”
“I don’t know. Why don’t we sprinkle it in your lap and see what happens?” I wave the plastic container full of red sparkles in Dean’s direction.
He covers his groin with two hands and vehemently shakes his head. “No. Please!”
Logan watches this all with interest. I cock my head. “Logan, you okay with glue and glitter?”
He nods. “We glued and glittered in school today.”
“That’s my boy.” I rub his head. “See how brave your brother is,” I say to Dean. “You going to be outclassed by a six year old?”
“Will not.” He grabs the glue gun.
“Will too!” shouts Logan.
“You can’t even use the glue gun!” Dean shouts. “You’re too young.”
“I’m not too young. I can use the glue gun,” insists Logan.
I start to agree, but Rory catches my eye and shakes her head. I guess glue guns are too dangerous for a six year old.
“Let’s paint the glue on the pine cones,” I suggest, sliding a paint brush in Logan’s direction. “Your brother and sister can use the glue gun with the Styrofoam instead.”
Logan gets a mulish expression on his face and crosses his arms. “I don’t wanna. I want to use the glue gun.”
“I think we should all use the paint-on glue. The last time I used a glue gun, I burned my finger, and it hurt for days.” Rory plops down next to Dean and pulls her legs into a crisscross position.
I snatch the glue gun off the table and throw it over my shoulder. “Glue guns should be outlawed,” I announce.
“Like the spinning wheels in Snow White?” Rory laughs.
My breath catches, and my mind stops working momentarily at the sound. She’s so beautiful when she’s happy, and her laughter fills me with warmth. I could be happy just sitting next to her and listening to her make random noises. It’s a dorky sentiment, but I can’t help it.
“Yeah, like that. Hey, Logan, make a video for me, will ya? I’ll pay you.”
His eyes brighten, and he grabs my phone, but Rory holds up her hand. “No, you are not paying.”
“Of course I am. This content earns money, so there’s no reason why Logan shouldn’t be paid. I’m not into exploiting child labor.” I nod to Logan to go ahead. He happily starts filming.
“What do you mean your videos earn money?” Rory asks.
“I have a couple of brand deals.”
“What’s brand deals?” Dean asks.
“It’s when a company pays you money to mention them. Like Mr. Deloitte and his car dealership.”
“You do ads for Deloitte’s Deals?” Rory butts in.
“No. It’s for these.” I pluck at my jeans. “I wore a pair one day and got a lot of likes. The company emailed me and asked if I would put their brand in my tags whenever I wore them, and they paid me for it.”
Rory is shocked. “I didn’t know that. Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Why’s it a big deal?” But I know why. She thought I was wasting my time on those videos, and she’s not entirely wrong. I’m doing them because it’s a way to spend my days while I wait for her to fall for me. I’m not a guy with a lot of ambition, and she should know what she’s getting into with me.
“It’s not,” she concedes, but there’s a little line between her eyes as if she can’t figure out what’s bothering her. I don’t press. She’ll have to work that out for herself.
As we glitter up the pinecones and the Styrofoam balls, Logan makes holiday videos. Soon there’s glitter everywhere—in our hair, on our shirts, in my mouth—but everyone seems to be having a good time. Logan’s giggling, and even Dean doesn’t seem to mind that his fingers are coated with red and green sparkles.
Once a pile of ornaments are completed, Rory ties ribbons on the end while Dean and Logan and I place the homemade decorations on the tree. It doesn’t take us long and Dean is about to turn on the lights when the front door opens. A bottle blonde in tight pants and a leopard print shirt with buttons that are fighting for their lives stretched across a very prominent rack appears. She slams the door shut behind her with a kick of her high-heeled shoe and throws out her arms. “Mommy’s home!”
“Sheila,” Rory mutters under her breath and gets to her feet. Her brothers run over to get their hugs. Logan is so happy he’s shaking.
“Mommy! Mommy!” he yells.
“I know, Button. It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Mommy had to go away to earn some money, but she’s back now.” She presses kisses all over Logan’s face. Dean presses close to Sheila’s side, averting his face so we can’t see how overcome he is.
Beside me, Rory grows stiff. I slide my hand into hers, and she clutches my fingers tight. Sheila’s head comes up from kissing her son, her eyes pausing on Rory and my intertwined fingers and then traveling up to my face.
“I heard you were seeing Tyson Carter, but I couldn’t believe it. It’s hard to believe even though I’m seeing it with my own two eyes,” Sheila drawls softly.