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and I feel a little nervous. I snap the rubber band on my wrist.
    "Sorry!" Avery says, sliding into a seat. She's dressed in a pair of tight jeans, an oversized cream sweater that hangs off one shoulder, and a ridiculous ball cap that I recognized as Atti's on her head, keeping her ponytail off her neck. She looks fresh and clean and effortless, and I feel grimy in my t-shirt and yoga pants.
    "Ladies?" A smooth, effeminate voice is tilted up in question, and I glance up as Avery stands, grinning at the man standing near our table, a bright-eyed baby on his hip.
    "You made it!" she says, snatching the baby from him and kissing her hair. "Jeff wasn't sure you'd be able to."
    "I'm confused," I say, blankly. Both of them turn to me, his expression assessing, hers hopeful.
    "Jason Curtis," he says, extending a hand. My heart stops, a painful freezing between one second and the next. "And my daughter, Sydney. I hope you don't mind her tagging along—I didn't expect to have any meetings today. But Avery said it was important, and she promised me lunch."
    There's a pause while the waiter arrives with a high chair and Jason arranges the little girl in it. Then we're sitting there, and I'm not sure how the hell this even happened.
    Jason and Avery are gossiping, his hands dancing through the air as he tells her some story about the baby. The subject of their story is staring at me with wide, curious eyes, so I wave at her. She smiles, a shy sweet smile that sorta melts my insides.
    "She likes you," Jason says, interrupting his story to make the observation. He glances at Avery. "Who wants to tell me what I'm doing here? Not that I mind a free lunch and babysitting, but usually my dates tend to the more male persuasion."
    Avery rolls her eyes. "Shut up, Jason. This is Atti's sister. She's looking for a job."
    His expression brightens, and he studies me with renewed interest. "A job, hmm? What do you do?"
    "Not a lot of anything, honestly. I've been...distracted. School, life." I dart a glance at Avery, but she's staring at her menu, letting this play out without any more interference.
    "Hm." Jason glances at Avery as well, something serious in his laughing eyes. The waiter makes a reappearance, and we place our order. Then the menus are gone and there is nothing but the three of us and this awkward, unlikely conversation.
    "Well. I need someone with experience," Jason says, his expression apologetic. "And if you say you have none..."
    "Jason," Avery says. He looks at her again, something wordless passing between them.
    "Fine. You can do paperwork, billing?" He asks, the flaky demeanor vanishing, his expression turning serious.
    I nod, swallow. "I'm good with computers and scheduling. And I want to learn."
    "I'll be honest, Scout. I'm not looking to teach. But we'll see what we can do," he says. He smiles, an impish expression, and says to Avery, "You, lovely, owe us a weekend of babysitting."
     
     
    Dane
    I'm a bastard. I know it—know from the way my office staff is ignoring me as much as they possibly can—but I don't really give a damn.
    She's been here three days, and she's already getting into my head, under my skin. It's a bad idea. I don't know why I agreed to it. I feel antsy, too tight in my skin. I want to score.
    Jesus. She's got me that rattled, that I'm ready to go hunt down the nearest dealer at UB and pop a handful of pills.
    My phone rings and I grab it, "Guillot."
    "Dude. You sound tense. What's wrong?"
    "You dumped Scout into my lap like I've got nothing going on in my life, and then you think asking what's wrong is a good idea. What the hell?"
    Atticus laughs. "She's not so bad."
    Then why am I the one dealing with her? "And yet," I say, my voice patronizing.
    "How is she? Seriously."
    There it is—the concern that Atticus is good at, when he can remember. Atticus is a good guy—one of the best, and a helluva a lot better than I'll ever be. But sometimes, he's a shitty brother. I should tell him about Kevin, but