Picture This (Bryant Brothers Book 4) Read online

  PICTURE THIS

  Bryant Brothers Book 4

  by Tami Lund

  Cover Design: Obeithion Covers

  Editor: Julie Sturgeon

  Copyright: 2020 by Tami Lund

  License Notes

  Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to purchase their own copy from their favorite authorized retailer.

  Thank you for your support.

  All entities, locations, businesses, etc. in this book are strictly figments of the author’s overactive imagination and are not to be construed as real.

  Questions, comments, or desires to seek permission to use any part of this book for your own purposes should be directed to [email protected].

  PICTURE THIS

  Bryant Brothers book 4

  by Tami Lund

  Meet Elliot, the youngest Bryant brother. He’s stood in the background while all three of his older brothers have become successful, have fallen in love, have lived life to the fullest.

  When a family member arranges for him to take a job in an industry he’s not interested in, he figures this will be one more way he’ll prove to everyone that he’s a screwup.

  Until he meets the beautiful and confident Amelia Gerard, and he decides working at that place might not be so bad.

  When Amelia injures her knee and can’t get around for a few days, Elliot steps up and offers to take care of her and her executive position in the company.

  Maybe he can be just successful as his brothers.

  Maybe he’ll find love, too.

  Only problem? Amelia’s his boss.

  Bryant Brothers series, in reading order:

  Racing Home

  To Love & Protect

  The Right Tool

  Picture This

  Chapter One

  “Thanks for the ride home, babe.” Elliot leaned over the console to give his chauffer slash one-night stand an appreciative peck on the cheek.

  Despite the fact that he’d not had a toothbrush with him when they met at the club and he’d declined when she offered to share hers this morning, she turned toward him and shoved her tongue down his throat, practically climbing over the console to get into his lap.

  Guess she enjoyed herself last night.

  Knuckles rapped against the window. He pushed her away and glanced up at his very pregnant sister-in-law and then rolled down the window.

  “Morning, Camila. What are you doing here?” She and Tommy lived about two and a half hours away from Elliot’s parents’ house, which was currently his temporary pad, until he was able to get back onto his feet financially.

  He should take the “back” out of that sentence.

  Camila gave the woman in the driver’s seat a barely concealed sour look. “I found you a job.”

  “I don’t recall mentioning that I needed one.” Even though it was true. He’d walked out of his last pathetic gig after only four months. What they’d described during the interview and the reality had been two very, very different scenarios.

  He’d thought he was taking on a marketing position. Turned out, he was a call center rep. Handling complaints for a company that had a habit of overpromising and underdelivering.

  Camila rolled her eyes. “You didn’t have to. You know how this family is.”

  “So Mom told you.”

  “Yep.” She rested her hands on her swollen belly and smirked, still, even with impending motherhood, managing to look every bit the know-it-all big sister. Which was funny, because until Elliot started dating her younger sister back in college, thus introducing Camila to her husband, who happened to be his eldest brother, Tommy, he wouldn’t have been able to tell you what a know-it-all older sister looked like.

  Now he had three older brothers with three wives who were all know-it-all older sisters.

  “I can find my own job,” he muttered.

  “Wait a minute,” his ride said. “I thought you said this was your house.”

  He glanced up at the two-story colonial with dark green shutters and impeccable landscaping. “It is.”

  “How can you afford this if you don’t have a job?”

  “Well, it’s my parents’ house, actually,” Elliot admitted. He and what’s her name hadn’t done much talking last night, so the subject of financial assets hadn’t come up.

  “Oh my God, you live with your parents?” She made it sound like a criminal offense. “Listen, I need to get going, okay?”

  Elliot recognized a brushoff when he heard one. “Later, babe.” He climbed out of the car, and she shifted into reverse and pulled out of the driveway almost before he’d closed the door behind him.

  “Doesn’t sound like you’ll get a second date out of that one,” Camila remarked as they both watched her drive down the street.

  Elliot shrugged. “Wasn’t planning on one anyway, although maybe next time you could be a little more subtle with the no job and no home bit.”

  “It would be cool if there was never a next time, actually. I take it you spent the night with that woman? Did you even get her name?”

  He stepped up to the garage and punched the code to open the door. Nobody used the front door because Freddy, the yappy King Charles Spaniel, went nuts if you did. “You’re starting to shift from sounding like a big sister to sounding like my mother. Practicing?” He gave her belly a pointed glance before heading inside.

  She followed. “Not at all. To be honest, I wanted to stay the hell out of your self-loathing issues.”

  Freddy greeted them with a tail wag and a couple of sniffs of their feet. Both of his parents’ cars were absent from the garage, which meant he had the house to himself, at least for a little while. Well, as soon as he could boot his sister-in-law.

  He strode into the kitchen and grinned when he saw that the coffeepot was still on and was half full. No doubt his mother’s work. Sometimes the idea of living here forever had great appeal.

  After he made himself a cup, he leaned against the counter and watched as Camila leveraged herself onto a barstool. “Is that my issue? Self-loathing? I had no idea.”

  She rolled her eyes. “The one thing you’re really good at is the one thing you won’t try.”

  She was referring to his love of photography. While it was a hobby he definitely enjoyed, and, yes, he’d even admit he was good at it, wasn’t a sustainable career.

  “So you keep ending up in these dead-end jobs that don’t make you happy,” Camila continued. “It’s a terrible cycle.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “Maybe this one will be the turning point.”

  Not likely. “I can find my own job.”

  “I’m sure you can. However, this is easier. And more instant gratification.”

  “How do you know it’s what I want to do with the rest of my life?”

  “I already know it’s not what you want to do with your life. So unless you’re going to hang that shingle and call yourself a professional photographer, this is the next best thing.”

  “You know I can’t make a living being a photographer.”

  “If you honestly believe that, you should shower and brush your teeth and put on something that isn’t quite so wrinkled so you can look presentable for this interview—”

  “I thought you said you got me a job.”

  “I said I found you a job. But you still have to actually prove that you’re worth hiring. Now go take a shower. We need to be there in an hour.”

  “We? I need an escort now? Is this to make sure I actually go through with
it?”

  This eye roll was even more exaggerated than the last one.

  “I’m going to introduce you, then I’m leaving. That’s it. Now hurry up.”

  “Yes, Mom.”

  Forty-five minutes later, Camila parked in a visitor spot in front of a sprawling structure.

  “A glass manufacturer?” Elliot asked, taking in four stories of tinted windows and gray stone.

  “Okay, here’s the deal.” Camila partially turned in her seat to face him. “A friend of Maddy’s works here. She’s the one who got you the interview.”

  Elliot sighed. Yes, he’d gotten over Maddy, and, yes, Maddy and his brother Kyle were sickeningly good together and he was honestly happy for them, but that didn’t mean he wanted the whole damn family to know he’d screwed up yet again.

  “Why’d you tell her, Cam?”

  “I didn’t. Your mother did. And then Maddy called and asked if I’d bring you up here. She’s just trying to help you out, Elliot.”

  Story of his freaking life. Everybody was always trying to help him out. Like he couldn’t do a damn thing for himself.

  Problem was, he had a tendency to prove them all right. No matter how hard he tried to figure things out on his own.

  Camila touched his sleeve. “This is a great company. There’s lots of room for growth. Maddy’s friend loves it here. Maybe this is the one that finally sticks.”

  Maybe. Although did anyone go to work at a glass manufacturer and think, this is what I want to do for the rest of my life?

  “Come on. The person you’re interviewing with is Amelia Gerard.”

  “Sounds old.”

  “Maybe you should keep that thought to yourself.”

  They entered a vast lobby with a glass sculpture in the middle that stretched up to the second floor. Camila motioned at the sleek, wooden desk parked between the sculpture and the elevators and they headed that way.

  “We are here to see Chelsea Vale,” Cam said to the security guard.

  “Wait, Chelsea?” Elliot blurted, but Cam ignored him.

  “Name?” the bulky guy barked.

  “Camila Bryant.”

  He dialed a number, spoke into his phone, and then disconnected the call. “She’ll be down in a minute. Have a seat if you want.” He pointed at a cluster of chairs surrounding a short, round table piled with magazines.

  Camila slowly lowered herself into one of the chairs while Elliot dropped down next to her. “Chelsea? Seriously? She hates me.”

  “Other than at Maddy and Kyle’s wedding, at which you barely spoke, you haven’t seen each other in years. And considering she agreed to set up this interview, I’d say she doesn’t hate you as much as you think.”

  Okay, that made sense. Except he could not imagine Chelsea had gotten over her anger. Shit, was this a trap?

  The whoosh of the door opening drew his attention. He watched an attractive woman stride toward the elevators. She wore a narrow skirt that fell to just above her knees, a red silk blouse, and matching stiletto heels that made clicking noises as she hurried across the ceramic floor.

  Her hair was dark, pulled back into a sleek bun, with tendrils curled around her face, which was bowed, her attention focused more on the phone in her hand than the space around her. He was on his feet and striding toward her in an instant.

  He cupped her elbow and steered her around a giant potted palm. She gave him a startled look as she finally tore her gaze away from her phone and stopped moving. Huge, chocolate brown eyes glanced down at his hand on her arm and then up to his face.

  “Sorry. Just didn’t want you to take a header into the mini jungle there.”

  She looked at the plant, then shook her head and smiled. “Thank you. I’ve actually run into that thing more times than I care to admit.”

  “Maybe you should wait to look at your phone until you aren’t moving.”

  “Maybe.” Her gaze dropped to the contraption. “I have a meeting, so I need to get going. Thanks again.”

  She hurried away, this time watching where she was going. He stood where he was until the elevator opened and she glanced over her shoulder before slipping inside.

  A moment later, one of the other elevators pinged and Maddy’s friend, Chelsea, stepped through the open door. Elliot had to bite back a groan.

  Chelsea seriously agreed to get him an interview here? She was okay with them working at the same place?

  She hated him for a couple of reasons. The first was, the night he and Maddy met, Chelsea had hit on him, but he’d only had eyes for Maddy, who was her roommate at the time. It had taken her more than six months before she’d finally stopped giving him the cold shoulder.

  But then when Maddy dumped him, Chelsea had decided to take up hating him again, on her friend’s behalf. Even though Maddy had been the one to walk away, not him.

  “Uh, hey, Chelsea. Long time no see.” Three years, to be exact. Well, except for Maddy and Kyle’s wedding, but she’d had a date and Elliot had steered clear.

  “Elliot.” She gave him a bland once-over. “You haven’t changed much.”

  He tugged at his tie and tried not to wince. He doubted her comment was in reference to his actual appearance but rather the fact that he, once again, was going nowhere fast.

  “I’m working on it. Hopefully, this job will be the ticket. Thanks for getting me in the door.” See, he could eat crow when necessary. Cam better be listening so she could report back to the family: He isn’t as much of a screwup as we all thought, would be a good start.

  “Oh, it’s my pleasure,” Chelsea said.

  “Why do you say it like that? What’s the deal?”

  Without responding, she skirted around him and hurried over to hug Cam and exclaim over her girth and question when the baby was due and note a bunch of other stuff women talked about when one of them was pregnant.

  Elliot was fidgeting, shuffling from foot to foot by the time Chelsea tore herself away from Cam and indicated that he should follow her to the elevators.

  “I can just Uber home,” he told his sister-in-law. “You don’t have to wait.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He narrowed his eyes, trying to tell her with his mind powers to stop acting like his mom. If Chelsea had any sway whatsoever with this job, which obviously she did or he wouldn’t be here, he didn’t need her reporting to his potential manager that his family treated him like a child.

  “Yeah,” he ground out. “I got this.”

  “Okay, see you later,” Cam said, finally heading toward the exit while Chelsea led him over to the elevators.

  As soon as the doors closed, Chelsea crossed her arms and gave him another once-over. Elliot bit back another sigh.

  “You’re about to lay into me, aren’t you?”

  She canted her head and took another moment. “Nope. I mean, I could. You’ve given me plenty of fodder over the years. That night I had to pretend to sleep while you and Maddie were getting it on up on the top bunk, for one.”

  “Okay, that was one time, and we were hammered. And I’m sorry it happened.” Actually, drunk sex was generally pretty amazing, but doing it while your partner’s roommate was trying to sleep in the bottom bunk was shitty.

  “I’m glad you finally figured out that you were terrible together.”

  “Me too,” he admitted.

  “Here’s the thing. I sort of fell into this job a couple years ago. Probably was thinking the same thing you are thinking now. Who wants to make their career out of working at a place like this? But I like it. A lot. I was going through some bad stuff, had just ended a truly terrible relationship, really needed something to distract me, help me get myself together. And this place did that for me.”

  She shrugged as the elevator pinged. “So maybe it will do the same for you.”

  He cleared his throat and adjusted the knot on his tie before smoothing the tail over his torso. Her gaze tracked the movement.

  The door opened, and he stepped out into a hallway with
amazingly plush carpeting, wrapping his hand around the frame to keep the doors from sliding shut. “I appreciate what you’re doing, Chels. If I get the job, I’ll give it my all, but I highly doubt this place is going to change my life.”

  Her phone made a chirping noise, and she slid it out of the pocket of her slacks. “Crap. I forgot, I have a meeting with marketing on the second floor. I gotta go.”

  She shoved his hand away and repeatedly pressed one of the buttons on the wall. As the doors began to slide shut, she glanced up and said, “Good luck.”

  Turning around, he assessed his situation. It wasn’t a typical office setup with cubicles everywhere and phones ringing off the hook. Not that Elliot could really say that was typical, but thanks to the call center he worked in for about four months, he still heard incessant ringing noises in his sleep.

  This space was open. There were no walls; if things were enclosed, it was with glass. Even the offices running along the edge of the room, which he assumed belonged to the executives, were glass, although the bottom four feet or so on several of them were frosted to allow a small modicum of privacy.

  One guy was chatting to someone through a headset, a smile on his face, his feet propped on his desk, while he tossed a stress ball into the air. Another woman was hunched over her computer, her tongue thrust between her teeth, moving her mouse with calculated precision. A group of three people walked past him, talking and laughing among themselves. The atmosphere felt relaxed, and everyone he could see seemed, if not literally happy to be here, certainly not disgruntled or miserable.

  Maybe people really did enjoy working at a glass manufacturer.

  A pretty young woman paused and said, “Can I help you?”

  “I’m looking for Amelia—” Shit, he couldn’t remember her last name.

  “Oh, right. Are you her next interview?” The woman glanced at her phone. “You’d better hurry. She hates it when people are late. She wouldn’t even speak to the last guy because he showed up at 10:33.”