IN HER CANDY JAR

"Sweet and sexy, In Her Candy Jar is the perfect combination of great humor, real characters, and the delicious treat of fate-driven love." --Amanda K., Copy Editor, Red Adept Editing

 "Light, funny, full of family and steam!"  --Jeeves, Goodreads

 "OMG. This book was absolutely brilliant! I loved this story from start to finish..." --Bev, Goodreads

 "This is a laugh out loud comedy of errors and hot sex. You will never look at candy the same way." --Penny, Goodreads

 "Amazing and strong characters with off the charts, intense, and potent chemistry." --Debra, Goodreads

 "This book kept me in stitches I was laughing so much!" --Kayla, Goodreads

Chapter 1

Josie

"Follow your passion, and you will find your true self." That was what my mom told me right before she ran off with her new boyfriend. His name was Dave, and he liked to dress up as a clown and sit on the sofa, nursing an old hang-gliding injury.

That was the last time I saw her. Not that I was upset about it. My mother was a bastion of terrible advice. "Follow your passion" seemed pretty innocuous though compared to Mom's other advice, which ran the gamut from how to make a papier-mâché wasp nest to keep the power company from switching off the meter to where to buy used pregnancy tests to trick a man into staying with you.

Like I said, it was best that she left me with her aunt Myrtle. And once Aunt Myrtle went to the great canning club in the sky, I realized life was short and maybe Mom had been right about one thing after all. I decided to follow my passion and earned a marketing and graphic design degree. Everyone I worked with raved about my talent, and right out of school, I was offered a high-paying job doing creative, fulfilling work with wonderful people…

LOL! Nope!

Follow your passion was probably the worst advice my mother ever gave me. I followed my passion off a pier into an ocean of soul-crushing student loan debt. I added an astronomical amount of credit card debt to the pile in order to work three unpaid marketing internships with some of the most narcissistic, self-absorbed people I would ever meet. Unable to afford anything better, I rented a cardboard refrigerator box in someone's living room in Manhattan. At night, I worked for a content farm, writing articles about vitamin supplements that totally didn't contain steroids or meth.

One evening while sitting in my box, I realized this was it. I had followed my passion and found my true self. The real Josie hadn't come very far in life, and the highlight of her week was eating a bowl of ice cream hidden under a pile of gummy bears. My true self was a real bum.

I needed to make a change. You only live once, and I was going to live life to the fullest. I gave up the box and found a new roommate. Anke was Russian and spent money like water. She always had the best clothes and stayed in the nicest hotels. She was #YOLO personified. We traveled together, partied together, and shopped together. My Instagram never looked so good. For about six months, I lived the glamourous life of a digital nomad. By day I worked from chic cafés in the cities Anke and I traveled to, and at night I hung out at the coolest parties. I was living the #YOLO life, until I YOLOed right off a cliff. Turned out Anke had been running a scam the entire time, and when the scam crashed and burned, my meager life savings were collateral damage, and my credit score was nuked from orbit.

Now I had nothing, not even my box.

"Have you heard from her at all?" my friend Willow asked. When I came back from that final trip to Morocco, tail dragging, credit card companies breathing down my neck to pay for all the stuff Anke had put on my cards, my friends took pity on me. Marnie finagled a crappy little assistant job for me at Svensson PharmaTech, and one of Willow's hipster friends was willing to gift me a tiny house.

"I haven't heard from her in months," I said. "I've sent her hundreds of emails asking, sometimes begging, for her to help me." In Morocco, Anke had promised to pay me back if I put the luxury hotel suite on my credit card. Except I had woken up one morning to see that she had disappeared in the night. The hotel wouldn't let me leave until I had paid off the balance. I split the remainder of the payment across my other cards and booked the cheapest plane ticket I could back home. Now I was left with the carnage. The vegan fried ice cream I was eating churned in my stomach.

"The credit card companies didn't let you contest the charges?" Willow asked, pouring me more wine.

"I showed them the police report, but the hotel showed them pictures of me staying there, so they won't eat the charge," I told her. "It's not like Anke stole my credit cards and used them." I sighed and dribbled some more chocolate sauce on the last ball of the crunchy, sweet treat.

"Are you going to ever be able to pay it back?" Willow asked. "Maybe you should file for bankruptcy."

I looked around the little vegan café in the quaint town of Harrogate. From our seats at the reclaimed-wood counter that wrapped around glass cases filled with desserts and baked goods, I had a good view of the room. It was filled with happy, thin, well-dressed people who didn't seem to have a care in the world.

"I don't know," I told her, watching as people trickled into the café, one of whom was a tall man in a well-tailored suit. His dirty-blond hair was in a 1940s-style undercut, making him look a little like Chad Michael Murray from that TV show Agent Carter. "Too bad I can't just find a rich man who would fall in love with me. Maybe I should have taken Mom's advice to heart a little more." I poured more wine; I needed to slow down. I started my new job in the morning.

"Isn't she living in a trailer park in Florida?" Willow asked, wrinkling her nose.

"Yes, but she doesn't have to pay for any of it," I countered. "Maybe I need to lower my standards."

"They're already pretty low," Willow said. "You're going to be some corporate douche's assistant."

"Don't remind me."

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched the Chad Michael Murray look-alike talk to the cashier. He had an annoyed look on his face as he walked a few paces away to wait for his food.

"He seems like he's in a bad mood," Willow remarked, following my gaze.

"I mean this place is vegan," I said.

"Vegan is good for the environment!" Willow protested.

"I mean, I guess. But maybe he wanted a steak, but instead he decided to buy his obnoxious girlfriend a vegan treat that she is going to take one bite of and complain about how fat it's going to make her and that she's such a pig," I said, stabbing at my fried ice cream ball in annoyance.

When I was stressed, I ate, and the Anke situation had me going through a bag of sour gummies a night. My waistline was paying the price. I started to get angry at the girl who was making the poor blond guy so stressed, but then I thought, What am I doing? I have too many real problems to start tackling imaginary ones too.

"I don't think I can be a good assistant," I admitted. "You know how disorganized I am. I wish Marnie had found me anything else. Maybe you can bring me in on that marketing project?" I pleaded.

"You don't want to be on that project," Willow replied. "It hasn't even started, and I can already tell it's going to be horrible. The marketing director sounds like a real piece of work."

"It can't be that bad," I said, trying to keep the jealously off my face. "They're putting you up in a hotel."

"That I have to share with two other people."

"Any they're paying for meals."

"Which you are already partaking in," Willow replied.

"I honestly can't believe you're doing marketing work for Svensson PharmaTech of all places," I told my friend as I poured more of the rich chocolate fudge sauce onto my ice cream. "You always wanted to work for a nonprofit."

"Funny thing about that. All those charities think you should be glad to work for free since you're doing something noble. Unfortunately you can't pay student loans with good intentions, heartwarming feelings, and exposure. And I didn't win that position at the Holbrook Foundation, which is one of the few well-paying nonprofits."

"It's going to be fine," I told her. "It's a fresh start for both of us."

"I just wish it wasn't pharmaceuticals," Willow complained. "They're the worst. The marketing material is so dry, and all the commercials are the same."

"Do you have feelings of dread, no money, and a general sense that your life is a waste?" I said in my best commercial-narrator voice. "Try biggus dickialus. Guaranteed to relax you. Side effects include a delicious soreness and a man in your bed."

We shrieked in laugher. The blond-haired guy turned around to glower at us.

"I wouldn't mind his biggus dickialus," I whispered. The words came out louder than I intended. The frown on the guy's face went deeper.

"Shhh!" Willow said, giggling. I poured more wine. Alcohol and sugar were pretty much my main food groups at this point.

Willow looked at him critically. "He's probably too tight-laced for you."

I thought about that for a moment as I studied the guy. The gray suit fit him well. It was perfectly tailored to accentuate all the nice bits.

"He does seem very uptight, and I don't have a lot of patience for the stick-in-the-mud types, but you know me—I'll try anything once. Why, look at this vegan ice cream. Most people think vegan food is gross. And I'll admit it is a little grainy, but I'll eat anything if it's fried and covered in chocolate!" I said as I reached for the spoon in the little pot of vegan fudge.

But instead of daintily picking up the spoon, clumsy, drunk me ended up slamming it. In a haze, I watched the spoon and the pot fly though the air… and cover the uptight corporate guy in chocolate. It streaked all down his face, dripping on his light-gray suit.

"Fudge," I said as he stood in front of me, his gray eyes wide in horror. "Though you do look amazing covered in chocolate. I bet you taste good too."

"What is wrong with you?" he shouted.

I pushed off the wooden stool, landing unsteadily on my feet. "Calm down. I didn't dump a vat of acid on you," I slurred as I dabbed at him with a napkin.

He batted my hand away. "Don't touch it! You're ruining my suit."

"Lighten up! Too much stress isn't good for you. Why don't you sit down, and we'll buy you some ice cream to go with that fudge on your suit?" I snickered to myself at the joke. Drunk me was very easily amused.

"Willow here has an expense account." My friend waved to him from the counter. "You can get sloshed, and maybe later I'll lick all the chocolate off you." I waggled my eyebrows suggestively to let him know I was kidding. Partially.

"I have responsibilities, and people relying on me. You already put me off my schedule," he said irritably. Then he grabbed the white box from the countertop, turned on his heel, and left.

"That went poorly," Willow snickered as she watched me drain my wine glass. The room looked wobbly; I definitely drank more than my fair share of the wine.

"The worst of it is," I said, "all the chocolate is gone."

Chapter 2

Mace

Discipline separates successful people from the ineffective people. I ran a multibillion-dollar pharmaceutical company. I was accountable for the financial and professional well-being of my employees. I was also responsible for my younger brothers—all two dozen of them.

Both my business and family lives were complicated entities, and I lived and died by my schedule. I had planned on picking up the vegan nut loaves at 8:30 p.m. I called ahead, but of course the bakery did not have them ready for me when I arrived. However, I had built a contingency into my schedule. I could wait up to five minutes for them to package the bread. The baker put the loaves on the counter at 8:34 p.m., leaving me plenty of time to arrive home at 8:55 p.m.

Except that girl had spilled chocolate sauce all over my suit, causing me to spend too long in the bathroom trying to clean out the worst of it even though I knew it was most likely ruined and I should cut my losses.

I checked my watch. I was supposed to be home seven minutes ago. I sat in my car, at the intersection in front of the bakery, mentally recalculating my evening when the back passenger door was wrenched open and someone crawled inside.

"Take me home, Jeeves!" a woman slurred. She smelled sweet, like candy and dessert wine. I of course didn't eat sugar.

I turned around in my seat to see another woman stick her head into the car. "You're Arnold, right? Here to pick up Willow?" she asked.

"No, I certainly am not," I said.

"This isn't the Uber?" Willow, I supposed, unless she used an alias, asked uncertainly. I flicked on the overhead light and turned on the hazards.

In the yellow glow, I saw the girls from the vegan shop. I felt a scowl settle on my face. "This is not an Uber; this is a private vehicle. Remove yourselves immediately."

"I can't!" Willow said, gesturing helplessly to her friend. "I think she's asleep. Josie, wake up!"

"She's probably just drunk," I told her. I heard a slight snore from the girl who had covered me in chocolate sauce. Her curly hair spilled out of its clips over the back seat.

Josie's friend halfheartedly tried to pull her out. "Sorry!" she puffed. "She's under a lot of stress right now."

I heard a thunk as the sleeping girl's arm hit the center console. I winced. If that girl ended up with some sort of life-altering injury in my car, my schedule would never recover.

"Just stop. I'll do it," I said, unbuckling my seat belt and going around to the passenger side. I easily pulled Josie out of the car. Cradled in my arms, she felt warm and soft. I asked Willow, "What do you want me to do with her?"

"I think that's our Uber." Willow pointed to a car that was pulling up.

Josie murmured and snuggled into my chest.

"Don't get too comfortable," I told her as I deposited her into the vehicle.

"Thank you! Sorry about your suit!" Willow called as I walked back to my car.

I didn't have time for idle chitchat. I checked my watch. Delayed another six minutes. This evening was going downhill fast.

Back in the car, I had to roll down the window because I reeked of sugar and chocolate and the faint sweet scent of the girl's hair.

Before I could drive off, my phone rang, and my brother's voice came through the speaker system.

"Hunter, you're making me late," I said to my older brother.

"Mace, it's good you're not home yet," he replied, ignoring my complaint. "Another one just came in. Can you pick him up? I'm still on the road and won't be back for another half hour."

I sighed and mentally recalculated my schedule. "I suppose. My schedule is already shot."

"You need to be more flexible," Hunter said.

"Is there anything else? I can't talk and drive," I reminded him.

He made a disgusted noise. "Right, that law. I can't believe Meghan did that.”

“It's remarkable that she's managed to hold a grudge for years and is still finding ways to mess with you. Garrett said he would be impressed if it wasn't such an inconvenience." I told him.

***

The train station was busy when I pulled up. Ever since Svensson PharmaTech had become one of the biggest pharmaceutical companies in the world, it had spurred investment in the formerly run-down rust-belt town of Harrogate.

A couple hours outside of New York City by train, Harrogate boasted a bustling main street, was fully run on hydroelectric power, and had some of the best schools in the state. Lots of research startups were clustering here. And of course my brothers' investment firm was cashing in on all of it.

One would think I would be living the life of a playboy billionaire, but even if I wanted to, I couldn't because of the kids.

Susie, one of the town's police officers, was waiting at the train station, holding the hand of a small child.

"Officer," I greeted her. She was friends with Meghan, and as such, she did not like Svenssons.

I looked down at my newest little brother.

"He's a bit younger than who your father usually sends over," Susie commented.

I knelt down. "What's your name?"

"Henry," the kid said.

"How old are you?"

"Four and seven months."

"At least he can talk and knows his numbers," Susie said as she wrote notes on her pad. "I'll put it on your tab. The social worker will come by in the next few days."

There was an envelope pinned to the kid's jacket. I knew from experience it had all his paperwork in it.

If you're running a polygamist cult, you don't want a bunch of single males running loose. Previously, my father only sent the boys once they hit puberty. But then he began sending them younger and younger, so I supposed it was inevitable we would end up with a preschooler.

Henry was inspecting my suit. Suddenly he opened his mouth and licked it. Susie laughed then clapped a hand over her mouth.

I silently cursed the chocolate-sauce girl as I led Henry away.

***

When we arrived at the estate house, it was chaos. I felt my jaw tense as soon as I walked in. I knew Hunter hadn't returned yet because the kids were all running around like animals. My college-aged brothers had returned to university, their various spring breaks over. It was easier to corral the younger boys when they were there. Of the oldest teenagers, only Adrian remained, and he hurried over when he saw me.

"Henry!" he exclaimed, picking up his much younger brother and squeezing him to his chest. "Nate! Billy! Look who's here." He looked at me guiltily. "Sorry, I know we're all brothers and not supposed to group off based on our mom," he said. "I'm not like those traitors in Seattle."

"It's okay. You do share a mother and are full brothers. I know you guys missed him. Why don't you go settle him in a room?"

Something hit me in the chest

"Oops," Nate yelled, eyes wide. He skidded to a halt in front of me, and I snatched the paintball gun out of his hand.

"I will not tolerate anarchy in this house," came Hunter's icy voice from behind me. All the kids immediately stopped what they were doing and lined up in the foyer from tallest to shortest. I switched Nate and Theo around. Theo had hit a growth spurt.

Adrian set Henry in the last spot and ran to the front of the line.

"You don't have to do this anymore, Adrian," Hunter said, waving him out of the line. "You're eighteen, and you're working with Mace. You're an adult."

"Man, this is some Children of the Corn shit!" my half brother Liam called out as he walked in, followed by Jack Frost, his Platinum Provisions cofounder.

"Ooh Liam said a bad word!" the kids exclaimed.

"He did say a bad word, didn't he?" Hunter told them. "That's one hundred dollars, Liam. No swearing in the house."

Jack snickered.

"What the fuck?" Liam demanded. "A hundred dollars? Isn't it supposed to be like a nickel for swearing?"

"Inflation," Hunter replied, "and now it's two hundred dollars."

"I don't have any cash."

Hunter pulled out his phone and stuck a card reader in it. "I take credit cards."

"Guess what, guys!" I said to my little brothers. "I brought you a treat! Its vegan nut bread." I opened the box to show them.

The kids looked at the crumbly pieces of bread apprehensively.

"It's healthy and nutritious," I continued. "Lots of fiber." Liam pretended to vomit, and Nate stifled a laugh.

"Jack and I brought something better, curtesy of his girlfriend's bakery," Liam said, shoving me aside. Jack pulled a box out of his bag and opened it to display perfectly decorated cookies. All the kids cheered.

"They shouldn't have that much sugar," I complained to Hunter as Jack and Liam handed out cookies. He looked at me critically.

"You're one to talk. You have chocolate sauce all over your suit."

Chapter 3

Josie

When I was a young and impressionable college student, back when I thought there was a glamorous job waiting for me on the other side of the university rainbow, I dreamed of a cool townhouse—one of those big ones in New York City. It would be my sanctuary. There would be a kitchen three times as big as the one in Anke's old apartment. I would have a six—no eight—burner range and three ovens. The kitchen would have an island to seat the humongous family I totally would have. I would make awesome, tasty meals and wear a cute apron and kiss my attractive husband when he came home from work. I would have a craft room, with pretty bits of ribbons, paper, and shiny markers. Best of all, I would have a candy wall displaying glass jars of all different kinds of colorful, sweet treats. When I wasn't crafting or cooking, I would take inspirational photos of my house and curate them on Instagram.

The tiny house that was waiting for me the next morning in the parking lot behind Ida's General Store never featured in my dreams. It never even featured in my nightmares. In its heyday, the tiny house might have been described as modern rustic. Now it was just dilapidated. It was also, well, it was tiny. I could stretch my arms out and touch both walls. The linoleum countertop was peeling. The walls were cracking. The cabinetry looked askew, probably from all the bouncing around on the road. There was a sink the size of a soup bowl, a cruddy toaster oven, and on a shelf above the sink was a display of mason jars holding a dusty array of various pastas.

I made a mental note to put candy into them. If this was as close as I would ever get to my own home, I was making the most of it.

"You're just giving this to her?" Willow asked the hipster. His name was Homer, and he wasn't wearing any shoes. His feet were black.

Homer shrugged. "The lady who had it got married and moved into her new husband's tiny house." He shook his head. "It isn't even that tiny. It's a luxury trailer. This"—he slapped the side of the little cabin on wheels, and the house shook ominously—"this is what tiny-house living is supposed to be—small and low impact."

"Does it have a bathroom?" Willow asked.

Homer picked a piece of gravel out of his foot. I was going to have to scrub the house at some point if he had been walking all over it. "It has a composting toilet and a wet room," he replied, pointing to a tiny door that looked like it was made for elves. I peeked inside and tried not to barf.

"This is a well-traveled tiny house," Homer said, banging on the wall again. The house shook, and a piece of the wood veneer on the ceiling fell down, exposing the insulation.

"It's fine," I assured him, needing him to stop destroying my new home.

"The truck comes with it," Homer added, gesturing us out of the house.

Hitched to the trailer bed was an old Ford pickup. If it had been lovingly maintained, I might have called it a classic pickup. In its current condition, there were brown rust patches, and the door handle was missing.

"I hope you can drive a stick shift," Homer said.

I nodded.

"It guzzles gas but pulls like a champ," Homer said, slapping the truck. One of the chrome pieces fell off, swinging by the remaining screw. The screeching of metal on metal made me wince.

"Enjoy your new home!" Homer said. "Go tiny!" He pumped his fist in the air. I raised my fist halfheartedly and looked up at the sky. It looked like it was going to rain. Maybe it would clean Homer off. Willow and I watched him lope down the road.

"Where is he going?" I mused.

My friend shrugged. "I have to go. My team is meeting at a coffee shop on Main Street before we head over to PharmaTech." Willow hugged me. "Enjoy! We'll catch up later."

I walked back inside the tiny house, sagging. I was still hungover from last night. I remembered falling asleep in the Uber then throwing up outside Willow's hotel.

My head pounded. I needed to go to work soon. I checked the time on my phone. I didn't have to be there until nine a.m. I had plenty of time. I lay down on the scratchy mattress.

Chapter 4

Mace

As always, I woke up the next morning at five thirty. Routine was important. I led my younger brothers on a run around the large estate. They trailed behind me in two lines of twelve. My eldest brother Remington, Remy for short, ran with us, wearing a big weight vest.

"Top of the morning!" he said through his huge bushy beard. The big ex-marine had let his hair grow out after he left the service. He looked wild, but the kids loved him. I loved him, too, though he was more like a kid himself than any real help with our younger siblings. Still, he was probably one of my favorite brothers.

Jack Frost was in the dining room when we returned from the run. On the table was another box of baked goods

"My girlfriend, Chloe, made breakfast muffins," he explained. "It's not sugary. They can have that, right?"

Nate and Billy clasped their hands together, silently pleading.

"I guess so," I relented. "Though I can't believe you all don't want vegan nut bread."

Jack laughed as my little brothers clamored for a muffin.

"Line up!" Hunter ordered, looking over his newspaper. "Act civilized, and say thank you to Jack."

After the kids were sitting nicely at the table, Jack offered me a muffin. "It's a steak and potato soup muffin. Chloe is developing a new line of breakfast muffins."

I shouldn't. It wasn't health food. "Come on," Jack cajoled. "Take it from a reformed Grinch whose soul was saved by the wonders of baking. This will change your life."

"It does smell good," I said, relenting.

"It's all protein. There's so much cheese and steak in it it's basically keto."

I peeled back the paper and took a bite. It was like eating a big plate of steak, eggs, and hash browns at a small-town diner. "That's really good," I mumbled around the food.

Remy picked one up and took a huge bite. My hand twitched. Crumbs were in his beard. "She should open a franchise in Harrogate," he said.

"She's still swamped with the one in my tower," Jack said, smiling.

I walked into the office at exactly seven thirty a.m. Yesterday had been a bust, but today was going to go exactly as planned. I dropped Henry off at the in-office daycare.

Adrian, who had been acting as my assistant, said, "Jack and Liam, as well as several executives, are here for the Platinum Provisions meeting at eight thirty."

"Perfect," I said. "Liam's actually early."

"Bro!" someone shouted down the hallway.

It was Archer, my identical twin. I could see the tattoos on his collarbone and on his forearms as he wrapped me in a hug, half climbing on me.

"You're messing up my suit," I complained, pushing him off. "Why are you here?"

"Harrogate is the hot spot," he replied. "Besides, I came to see you. Hunter said you were wigging out."

I resisted the urge to find a comb and tamp down his hair.

"You should come to the meeting," my older brother Greg said, pausing before he went into the conference room. "It might benefit you to learn something."

"I can't believe he's even up," I remarked.

"I never went to sleep!" Archer said proudly. "Though if Mace is giving a presentation, I'll doze right off."

"I don't know," my CFO and brother Garrett said, walking up, laptop under his arm. "He's been experimenting with PowerPoint effects. It's going to be very entertaining."

"Presentations aren't supposed to be entertaining. They're supposed to be informative," I retorted.

"Cramming a paragraph of twelve-point font on one slide is not helpful," Liam said. He threw an arm around my shoulder. "You need a girlfriend. Look at Jack! He used to be as uptight as you. Now he has a baker."

The Platinum Provisions executives and some of their marketing team were already in the room. Adrian had put out the nut bread I had brought as a snack.

"Throw that in the trash," Liam hissed to him. "That stuff is disgusting."

"I think it tastes great!" Adrian said, picking up a piece and chewing it.

"Adrian's a sycophant and a liar!" Liam announced. "You should have come to work with me. Mace is a bad influence."

"Yes, he is," Greg said and turned to give me an icy glare. "Adrian is not here to make copies and lay out snacks. He's here to learn how to run a business, not be your coffee boy."

"Aww," Liam cooed, wrapping his arms around Adrian and picking him up. "Adrian's trying to be a serious business man."

"Stop it, Liam!" Greg said irritably as Liam put Adrian down. "Adrian, has Mace been teaching you anything?"

"I got the whole office smoothies, and they were still frozen!" Adrian said proudly.

Greg shook his head slowly. "Why am I not surprised?"

"He's learning logistics," I protested.

"This ends today," Greg said.

I cut off the tirade that I knew was coming. "I need to start the meeting. Don't want to get behind schedule." I walked to the front of the room, pleased to see my PowerPoint was loaded onto the screen. "Good morning, everyone, and a warm welcome to the representatives from Platinum Provisions. I'm glad that our two companies are able to partner and branch into medical device development. We're currently in the process of locating a site for the new light manufacturing plant. We will also be building more research and development facilities."

I heard a thunk and looked over to see Henry, face suctioned onto the glass door of the conference room. He wasn't wearing any pants or shoes.

I shook my head at him, but he pushed the door open and came in, looking around. Some of the attendees giggled.

Go to Liam. Go to Archer, I chanted silently, willing him to hear my commands. Henry made a beeline for me and clambered up my pants leg.

"We offer daycare here, and obviously one escaped," I said, picking him up and glaring at my brothers. Not a single one moved. Adrian finally came over to drag Henry off me.

Henry did not want to go. "I don't like it! They're mean! It's prison!" he wailed. There was more unintelligible shrieking as Donna, one of the daycare workers, ran in.

"I'm so sorry," Donna apologized. It took her, me, and Adrian several minutes to peel Henry off of me. I had to pry each of his fingers out of my hair, all while he screeched in my ear.

My ears were ringing when they finally left.

"My apologies." I checked my watch. "The schedule has a break now anyway. This PowerPoint will be emailed to everyone." Annoyed that the timetable had been disrupted, I walked over to the table and grabbed a bottle of water.

Through a mouthful of cookies that he procured from who knew where, Liam said, "Thank God for the interruption. You really outdid yourself. That has to be the worst presentation you ever gave. I particularly liked it when each letter of 'research and development' came in like a hail of bullets."

Garrett snickered. Then he and Greg exchanged a look.

"I'm going downstairs to check on Henry," I said, scowling at my brothers. "I'm sure he needs his clothes at least."

Greg followed me as I walked through the office. "What are you plotting?" I demanded, picking up Henry's pants. "It better be about finding me help with the kids. I'm the only person who cares about them."

"You're hardly the only pillar holding this family together," Greg retorted.

"Yes, I am! Hunter was supposed to help, and he's never here. He's off running his latest scheme. None of you guys who live in Manhattan ever show up to help. And now you and Garrett are plotting something."

"I don't plot," Greg said, picking up Henry's shoe.

"Garrett plots."

"Garrett has expressed concern about your mental health."

"My mental health?" I snarled at him. Greg raised an eyebrow.

"My company is doing great. We're branching into a new sector. We've never been more profitable. Tell Garrett my mental health is fine. You know how he is when he starts fixating on something. I don't want to be his target." I found the rest of Henry's clothes behind a plant.

Greg followed me down to the daycare to return the clothes. "I know you need help," Greg said, "so I have a surprise for you."

"I don't like surprises," I said as we cut through the lobby to go back upstairs to the conference room. But Greg stopped in the middle of the atrium.

"I know that. That's why I wasn't going to tell you. I hired you an assistant. She was supposed to be here by now, though." He looked around the lobby.

"That's a good sign," I said with a sigh.

Chapter 5

Josie

I woke up to my phone blaring.

"Marnie?" I answered, yawning.

"Where are you?" my friend yelled into the phone. "It's almost ten a.m.!"

"Oh crap!"

I raced around the tiny house, grabbing my things. As I shuttered the windows, I felt my shirt pull, and I heard a rip as my blouse caught on a nail someone thought would hold a cute knickknack.

"Why is this happening to me?" I shouted. I was late to my new job. Not just a little late—I was a lot late. And now I had to change; I couldn't show up in a ripped shirt. I pulled it off and then saw my bra had a huge hole in it too.

"Screw you, tiny house!" I yelled as I dumped my entire suitcase out on the floor. Pawing through it, I grabbed the lacy bra I never wore, which usually sat at the bottom of my pile of clothes. Then I hurriedly buttoned up a new blouse.

I ran outside just as the first few drops of rain hit me in my face.

"You were supposed to get it together!" I said, cursing my terrible life skills. It started pouring rain, and I pulled and twisted at the trailer hitch. I couldn't decouple the tiny house from the truck.

"Fine! You're coming to work with me," I told the tiny house and jumped into the truck cab.

I prayed as the engine turned over and over then cheered when it started. I could barely see through the rain as I trundled out of the parking lot and onto the main road that led up to the Svensson PharmaTech factory. My heart was pounding. I couldn't get fired on my first day. Surely they would give a girl some leniency.

"What the—" I muttered as a car came down the street directly at me. "Why are you in my lane?" I yelled at the headlights. As I approached them, a train horn blared, and the huge diesel train engine loomed in front of me.

"Crap! Crap!" I swerved, and in the rearview mirror, the tiny house fishtailed behind me, barely clipping the train that was barreling down the middle of the street.

The logo on the train cars said Svensson PharmaTech.

"What kind of company lets their train run down the middle of the street?" I shrieked, my breath fogging up the window. I rubbed at it with my sleeve, but it didn't help.

"Can't stop! Just keep moving!" I sang to myself off-key.

Today was supposed to be the first day of the rest of my life, and here I was late, dripping wet, and almost killed by a train. At least the adrenaline surge seemed to have chased off any lingering hangover.

I was shaking when I finally made it to the PharmaTech offices. They were a series of beautiful glass buildings set up on a hill overlooking Harrogate. I didn't have time to admire the picturesque scene; I was late. I parked the tiny house way in the back of the parking lot—the only place I could get enough space—grabbed my bag, and sprinted through the freezing rain to the front doors.

Wrenching the glass door open, I ran in and promptly tripped over the floor mat and landed on the floor.

"Oof!" Thankfully, my bag took the brunt of the fall. I jumped up, hoping no one saw me face-plant. Two tall blond guys in suits looked at me in shock as I dusted myself off and looked around, pretending like I didn't just face-plant in front of them. The lobby was gorgeous. There were actual live trees among the white terrazzo floor and warm wood accents highlighting the glass elevators and open stairs that crisscrossed the large atrium.

The men approached me. They looked almost identical.

"Hey," I said, trying to ignore the throbbing in my knee. "I know you! I poured chocolate sauce on you in the vegan restaurant, remember? I guess you're just so hot women just drop to their knees in front of you."

The Chad Michael Murray look-alike seemed horrified.

"Can't stop and flirt!" I said, trying not to shake from the adrenaline. "I'm very late for my first day on the job. You know how that is." I hobbled over to the reception desk.

"I'm here to meet Mace Svensson," I told the woman in a rush. I could feel the water from my hair dripping down my face into my already-soaked shirt. "Just, can you not call him yet? I need to go to the restroom and get myself together. You wouldn't believe the day I had!" I laughed loudly. The receptionist looked at me wide-eyed.

Maybe this place wasn't all that friendly.

The receptionist slowly pointed to the men behind me. "That's Mr. Svensson there." I turned around. The hot guy from the vegan café was still in the same spot, along with his doppelgänger, watching me.

"I see," I said, turning back to the receptionist. "Well. Thank you for your time."

Squaring my shoulders, I marched back over to the men.

"I'm Josie," I said, holding out my hand. "I believe you're my boss."

I saw Mace's eyes flick down to my chest then immediately back up. He ignored my outstretched hand.

I looked down at my chest. Through my soaking-wet white blouse, I could see my also white lace bra, and through that I could see, well, not everything but a lot.

"As you can tell," I said, gesturing to the rock-hard nipples that were outlined through the wet fabric, "I am very excited to work here."