Chapter 24 Your 'I can't because it's hot' attitude is coming out. -Audric to Creole AUDRIC I was back at work, and I was dying. On the plane ride home, there was a couple with a baby that'd been sitting across the aisle from me. That baby had been coughing up a lung, and I'd known before I'd even gotten off the plane that I would be sick as a dog in the coming week. I was proven right three days later when a fever appeared that knocked me on my ass. Sadly, life didn't pause when you owned your own business. You didn't have anyone who could take over for you when it came to meeting clients or doing finish work that only you could do. Hence why I was at the apartment building for one final inspection while also meeting a prospective client who wanted to see what kind of work I did. Usually, I let my references speak for themselves, but this time I obliged the client because he would be netting me my biggest project yet-a billion-dollar nuclear energy plant that had more plumbing in that one building than I'd put in on my last years' worth of buildings combined. Eedie was looking at me from six feet away, her eyes slightly wide. "Are you sure that you should be here?" she asked, looking worried. "I'll manage," I said. "I just over medicated myself with so much Tylenol, Motrin, and cough syrup that I probably shouldn't be driving." She snorted. "I think that you're not supposed to be driving under the influence. When we get done meeting this guy, I'll take you home." "Can't," I said. "Gotta get the paperwork done on our last project. And to be quite honest, I don't think I should be in an enclosed space with you. You'll definitely get sick." She wrinkled her nose, and she looked so much like Webber in that moment that I smiled despite how bad I felt. "How's Creole doing?" Eedie wondered. "How'd Hawaii go?" My gaze went far away for a second as I remembered how, despite feeling like utter shit, I still left her a sated mess when I walked out that morning. "She's good. Hawaii was good. We went to a luau." I smiled, remembering the way Creole watched me throughout the night. I'd never felt better. "I think that Creole literally hates being a flight attendant, though. She doesn't necessarily show that she hates it, but I can read the signs since I know her so well." "When did y'all meet?" she asked. I grinned as I remembered the day. "We were young. Ten or so," I said. "She moved in two streets over from me, and Laney, my best friend at the time, happened to be riding her bike around the neighborhood when Creole and her family moved in. They hadn't even finished opening the door to their U-Haul yet when Laney and I pulled up on our bikes. Laney went up and asked her if she wanted to ride around the neighborhood with us, and she agreed until she saw me. Apparently, she didn't like boys because they were mean." "Boys are mean," Eedie interjected. I snorted. "Some boys are. Others aren't. Then again, some girls are bitches, while others aren't." Eedie offered me a disgusted look. I stopped talking when my phone started to vibrate. Reaching into my pocket, I withdrew my phone, smiling when I saw my lock screen. It was a photo I'd taken of Creole on the beach. She'd been sitting with her knees to her chest, arms wrapped around her knees. Her hair was wild in the wind, taking over the front of her face. But it was the laugh on her face that had me pulling my phone out and taking a photo. Her skin was sun-kissed, lips red and glossy. Her teeth perfectly straight and white. She was the entire package. Another text buzzed, reminding me why I'd pulled my phone out to begin with. Creole: Hey Creole: Do you think you can get someone sick with your semen? I thought about my answer for a long second before I replied. Me: I'm not sure that's the type of bodily fluid you can share and get sick. I would think it would be droplets of spit or snot. Creole: Gross. Anyway, I'm dying over here. How sick are you? Me: Sick enough that Eedie won't get anywhere near me. Creole: You should come home. I have the cure to what ails you. Me: I think I need to stay at my place, and you at yours, until I'm better. Creole: Funny. I think you are beyond the point of being able to get rid of me. Sickness and health, remember? Or was this ring just for show? Should I take it off? Maybe go to Walmart and see who I can pick up? I growled under my breath. Me: Try it, and I'll be leaving this stupid meeting early to show you who you belong to. Creole: The door to the coffee shop opened and a man matching the face on the website I looked up when I got here walked through the door. "That's my cue to leave," Eedie said. "Good luck." I jerked my chin at her before saying, "Don't bother waiting. You can head to the office and I'll be there as soon as I'm done." "Ten-four." She walked away, smiling at my prospective next client as she left. I fired off one final text to Creole before placing my phone back into my pocket and standing up to offer the man my hand. Me: He's here. Gotta go. I felt the phone vibrate in my pocket, but ignored it as I said, "Mr. Gunter?" The man, in his late fifties, early sixties, offered me his weathered hand. His website said that he was a farmer and had struck oil twenty years ago. From that point, he'd branched out into nuclear energy because his son had been interested in it at the time. Now his son was a nuclear physicist, and he funded his son's dreams. There was more, but I'd gotten bored with his explanations and had skipped around a lot. Reading wasn't my favorite thing in the world to do, especially when it was reading biographies. I was much more apt to pay attention if I was being told, not having to read. "Wesson, please," he said. "Sorry I'm late. My son has a passel of grandkids now and they stop over whenever they want." I flashed him a grin. "I bought a place out in the country a couple of months ago. I was hoping to move my dad and my fiancée's dad out there in their own houses. Form a little family compound. I think it might be pretty awesome to have my kids being able to go run around and see their grandfathers." "It's nice, until you're naked in your hot tub thinking you're alone, and your grandkids show up with their friends." He chuckled. I blinked. "Maybe I'll need to get a fence." I could see myself spending lots of time outside with my future wife, doing all kinds of naughty things. What a thing for a dad to walk up on you doing to his daughter... "I'd highly recommend the light system." Wesson smiled. "It keeps everyone gone if the light's off. When the light's on, it means it's okay to come over. We found that one out the hard way, too." I winced. "I don't want to know." His eyes were sparkling for a long second before he frowned when a man came up to our table from the left. I'd clocked the man out of the corner of my eye, but I'd given him none of my attention because I wanted the man I was meeting to have it all. I should've at least glanced over, because if I had, I might've been able to prepare Wesson on the complete douchebag heading our way. As it was, Russel Stoker, shitty MD, came up to our table without me stopping him. "Ahh, if it isn't the bad influence on my patient." Stoker smiled. "How's Creole doing? Had any bad breakdowns lately?" I gritted my teeth and said, "Dr. Stoker, I'm in a meeting with a client. Also, I think it's highly inappropriate, as well as against the HIPAA laws, to be speaking about one of your former patients. I ask you kindly to leave." Stoker obviously couldn't catch the hint because he stayed and kept talking. "Or should we talk about how you left your mother crying in her room you're refusing to pay for any longer, forcing her to go to a state-funded care facility that's going to be a fraction as good as the one she's in now? Forcing her to no longer get the care she needs after she tried to take her own life because of you?" That's when I lost it. The client didn't matter. Him blaming my mother's mental health on me, however, did. I stood up so fast that my chair went flying from behind me, slamming into the wall with enough force to cause a crack to sound throughout the coffee shop. Seconds later I was letting my fist fly, taking aim at Stoker's jaw. The crack of my fist connecting with his face was melodic to my ears. I didn't feel the pain of contact, either, because I was so enraged. How dare he bring my mother into this? How dare he talk about my future wife as if he had a right to? "Don't talk about my fiancée," I snarled. "And keep my mother's name out of your mouth while you're at it." "I'll be pressing charges," he said as he hung onto his jaw. "Son," my client said, "take it from me and just leave. You won't win this. As the father of a doctor, I damn well know that you know you're not supposed to be sharing patient information with anyone, let alone in public where there are plenty of video cameras recording your every move. Second, you talked about the man's mother, who, what I gathered, is mentally ill. Not only is that a law you've broken, but you've shown you have lowered morals. A cop, judge and jury aren't going to side with you on this. Plus, I've done my own research on this man. I know that he's shelled out over eight million dollars to house his mother. And let me tell you something, that's not chump change. Not everyone can afford to keep doing that for the rest of their lives." Stoker gave the old man an angry look. "And if you don't like them apples, you might should've stayed in your own lane." Wesson crossed his arms over his chest. "You can leave now." Stoker did leave, flashing me an angry, sinister look that let me know that I wasn't nearly done with him yet. Great. "Probably broke his jaw," Wesson said as he took me in. "Wish I would've broken his neck," I muttered. "I read up on you," he said as he took me in. "Report I had run didn't mention a fiancée, though." "The fiancée thing is new," I admitted. "As in two days ago new." His lips twitched. "Fresh. When are y'all planning on getting married?" I shook my head. "No clue. We haven't gotten that far yet." "When you decide, send me an invite. I'd like to meet the woman who sparks that kind of anger in you." He chuckled. "Now, let's talk business."