the staff here was well aware that flirting with him was a waste of time. To my knowledge, he hadn't so much as looked at a damn woman since his divorce. Bitch took half his shit and all his testosterone, apparently. He smiled politely at the server and turned back to our conversation without ever noticing her interest.
Poor bastard.
She was kind of hot.
Brant looked over at me with a knowing expression and a shake of his head. He saw it, too. "So, how many calls have you gotten from Shepard this week?" He rolled his eyes. "It was a record week for me with three calls, Spence got two, and we're running out of ways to tactfully express our disinterest in his offers."
I couldn't help the scowl on my face. "None. Unless Caroline has been brushing him off and not mentioning it, I haven't gotten any calls from him this week or any other week." I couldn't decide whether to be grateful or offended.
Spencer laughed. "He probably did enough homework to know you'd be the first of us to tell him to go fuck himself."
"Sure would." I sipped my bourbon and shook my head. "I'm still trying to figure out why neither of you have done it yet."
Brant shrugged and returned his attention to his glass while Spencer jumped right in with an answer. "Simple. He's a snake. The best way to get rid of a snake is to wait for it to get bored and slither away. If you engage it, poke at the damn thing, you risk getting bitten. We may have a damn good thing going but we've got nowhere near the clout he does. If we piss him off, he could refocus his efforts on ruining us just for the hell of it. He doesn't have many friends but he does have deep pockets and a mean streak. Let's just bide our time until he loses interest."
"I'd rather hand him his balls on a silver platter but that's just me." I joked. "Probably why I'm not allowed to handle that side of things, huh?"
Brant laughed into his glass and Spencer nodded emphatically before changing the subject. "Did you get a chance to meet the new assistant while you were in Denson?"
It took me a minute to decide on a response. I didn't want to sound too affected one way or the other. "I did. I gave her a quick tour of the property and she brought by the rental agreement for the cabin. She seems competent enough."
Brant chimed in. "I looked at her résumé the other day. She's so overqualified for this job it's pathetic. CMO of a marketing firm slumming it as Clay's assistant? That's like Muhammad Ali in a slap fight." He looked at Spencer with something akin to awe. "How the hell did you manage that?"
Spencer laughed and shrugged his shoulders. "Boredom is a great motivator. It's not like there's much going on in Denson. She was pretty stoked at the idea of having something new to do."
Brant turned to me with a smirk. "He begged." Spencer huffed indignantly and leaned forward to refill his drink, ignoring the accusation as Brant continued. "That's the only logical explanation for someone who is that smart and accomplished to want to take a bullshit job like that. I bet he cried a little, too." He chuckled and looked over at me for support.
"Oh yeah. I bet he crawled into that realty office on his hands and knees, pleading with her to take the job because we couldn't find anyone else in that shithole town to do it."
"Fuck. You. Both." Spencer didn't sound quite as bored as he wanted to. His shoulders were bunching in that tell-tale way they did when he was getting annoyed.
"Aww, come on, Spence. Don't be like that." Brant managed to barely hold back his laughter, but it was obvious in his voice.
He pointed at Brant, hand and voice both steady. "So she's well-educated and doing a small time job. Can't imagine how anyone would find satisfaction in that. Right?"
The remark was a thinly veiled reference to Brant's own level of intelligence. The bastard had an IQ near 180, had graduated high school at fifteen, and was smarter than every professor who taught him in college. He was a fucking genius, no
Poor bastard.
She was kind of hot.
Brant looked over at me with a knowing expression and a shake of his head. He saw it, too. "So, how many calls have you gotten from Shepard this week?" He rolled his eyes. "It was a record week for me with three calls, Spence got two, and we're running out of ways to tactfully express our disinterest in his offers."
I couldn't help the scowl on my face. "None. Unless Caroline has been brushing him off and not mentioning it, I haven't gotten any calls from him this week or any other week." I couldn't decide whether to be grateful or offended.
Spencer laughed. "He probably did enough homework to know you'd be the first of us to tell him to go fuck himself."
"Sure would." I sipped my bourbon and shook my head. "I'm still trying to figure out why neither of you have done it yet."
Brant shrugged and returned his attention to his glass while Spencer jumped right in with an answer. "Simple. He's a snake. The best way to get rid of a snake is to wait for it to get bored and slither away. If you engage it, poke at the damn thing, you risk getting bitten. We may have a damn good thing going but we've got nowhere near the clout he does. If we piss him off, he could refocus his efforts on ruining us just for the hell of it. He doesn't have many friends but he does have deep pockets and a mean streak. Let's just bide our time until he loses interest."
"I'd rather hand him his balls on a silver platter but that's just me." I joked. "Probably why I'm not allowed to handle that side of things, huh?"
Brant laughed into his glass and Spencer nodded emphatically before changing the subject. "Did you get a chance to meet the new assistant while you were in Denson?"
It took me a minute to decide on a response. I didn't want to sound too affected one way or the other. "I did. I gave her a quick tour of the property and she brought by the rental agreement for the cabin. She seems competent enough."
Brant chimed in. "I looked at her résumé the other day. She's so overqualified for this job it's pathetic. CMO of a marketing firm slumming it as Clay's assistant? That's like Muhammad Ali in a slap fight." He looked at Spencer with something akin to awe. "How the hell did you manage that?"
Spencer laughed and shrugged his shoulders. "Boredom is a great motivator. It's not like there's much going on in Denson. She was pretty stoked at the idea of having something new to do."
Brant turned to me with a smirk. "He begged." Spencer huffed indignantly and leaned forward to refill his drink, ignoring the accusation as Brant continued. "That's the only logical explanation for someone who is that smart and accomplished to want to take a bullshit job like that. I bet he cried a little, too." He chuckled and looked over at me for support.
"Oh yeah. I bet he crawled into that realty office on his hands and knees, pleading with her to take the job because we couldn't find anyone else in that shithole town to do it."
"Fuck. You. Both." Spencer didn't sound quite as bored as he wanted to. His shoulders were bunching in that tell-tale way they did when he was getting annoyed.
"Aww, come on, Spence. Don't be like that." Brant managed to barely hold back his laughter, but it was obvious in his voice.
He pointed at Brant, hand and voice both steady. "So she's well-educated and doing a small time job. Can't imagine how anyone would find satisfaction in that. Right?"
The remark was a thinly veiled reference to Brant's own level of intelligence. The bastard had an IQ near 180, had graduated high school at fifteen, and was smarter than every professor who taught him in college. He was a fucking genius, no
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