When I Need You (Need You #4)

“Not to be a dick, but it sucks that Martin is gone. I’m gonna miss him. We hung out all the time.”

I frowned. “You did?”

“Yeah. Why? He didn’t mention me?”

I shook my head. “Did Martin ever talk about me?”

Jensen was quiet for a moment. “Actually, no. I wonder why that is?”

I knew exactly why—it was my little brother’s (misguided) way of protecting me. “Martin keeps his life compartmentalized. Keeping his clients separate from his time spent snowboarding. Keeping his family separate from his friends. He hangs out with Calder at least every other week and we get together with our folks probably once a month—more if they’re not in season.”

“Wait.” Jensen held up his hand. “This is going a little fast for me. First of all . . . Martin has a job? Besides snowboarding?”

“Of course he has a job. He’s a freelance website designer.” I paused. “See what I mean about him keeping things compartmentalized? You didn’t even know what he does to earn a living.”

“Makes me wonder what compartment he put me in.”

“It depends on what you do when you’re with him.”

“We play video games, watch TV, play cards, drink beer.” He looked at Calder and dropped his voice. “That’s all I can get buzzed on because of . . . testing for my job.”

Martin was a pothead. He never hid it from me or our parents. It didn’t make me naive to call him a “responsible” stoner, but he’d finished college. He had a job and supported himself. He didn’t cause problems. He lived his life the way he wanted. He was a good person, and that said more to me about who he was than what vice he chose to indulge in. “My life is so hectic that not even . . . herbs mellow me out.”

Jensen laughed.

Damn. He had a great laugh.

I scooted to the edge of the couch. “Sorry your gaming buddy won’t be around.”

His gaze intently roamed my face. “You look really familiar to me. I thought you did earlier before you slammed the door in my face, but it’s probably the family resemblance.”

Or maybe I look familiar because we have met . . . oh, at least six times.

Yeah, my self-esteem took a knee. Not that I had the ego some of the cheerleaders on the squad did, but I knew I rocked this thirty-year-old body. I glanced over at my son, who was practicing his break dancing arm movements as he stared at the ceiling. I nudged his foot. “Time to go.” I gave Jensen a totally fake smile. “It’s a school night.”

Calder crawled over the edge of the couch. I propelled myself upright and moved to stand behind him.

“Thanks for apologizing,” Jensen said to Calder. “Takes guts to admit you were wrong.”

I smoothed the static from Calder’s long curls when he ducked his head.

Jensen looked at me. “I’m glad to hear Martin’s off on an adventure and he’ll be back at some point.”

“Since someone else had an adventure today”—I playfully tugged on Calder’s hair—“I still have to call my nanny and find out why she wasn’t aware that Calder had left the apartment and was running unattended in the halls.”

“I’d wondered about that.”

“She’s always been responsible and reliable even when I have to work late.” Had I said that to convince him? Or myself?

He shrugged. “Everyone screws up sometimes. No harm, no foul. I’d give her another chance because I bet it won’t happen again.” He launched himself over the edge of the couch—one-handed like he was dismounting from a pommel horse.

God. Why did jocks always have to show off their athletic prowess? I looked at Jensen, expecting to see smugness on his face because he knew he’d executed a hot and sexy move and he also knew I’d watched him do it.

But he’d focused on Calder. “I have no problem tattling on you to your mom, ninja-boy, if I see you running amok in the hallway again.”

Jensen was joking—and yet not—and he came across completely charming about it. “I’d appreciate it. My schedule is erratic so I’m not always home from work at decent hours.”

“Where do you work?”

“At the U of M.”

“Hey. I went to school there.”

I know. So did I. I even cheered for you.

Calder yawned and nestled the side of his face against my stomach. “I’m tired.”

Jensen sidestepped us and opened the door. “It was great meeting you, Rowan. And Calder.”

I said, “Same. See you around, neighbor.”





Three


JENSEN




I hauled my ass out of bed at four thirty the next morning.

Since I hadn’t seen my older brothers for several weeks, they’d demanded workout time with me as soon as I returned. Mostly because they wanted to hear the doctor’s prognosis.

As the youngest of four children I was used to being called the baby and treated like one. My siblings were high achievers: Brady—my oldest brother—was CFO of Lund Industries, the family business that grossed several billion dollars each year. My brother Walker had started his own construction company. My sister, Annika, was the VP of PR for Lund Industries. All of them, along with my parents and other assorted Lund family members, had supported me throughout my college football years and when I’d gotten drafted into the pros.

I’d lived my dream. I’d made a name for myself by hard work and dedication to training and learning everything about the sport of football. But what other skills did I have?

Yeah, that was another question I still didn’t have an answer to.

This early in the Twin Cities, traffic wasn’t bad so I made it to Brady’s place in decent time. My brother lived in an old warehouse he’d had renovated several years ago before the area had become super trendy. He’d installed a gym that boasted every amenity, so I loved working out here, but I’ll admit since Brady had married Lennox, I didn’t just show up as often as I used to.

I punched in the code at the gate and followed the driveway to the private parking lot. Walker’s big rig pulled in beside my ZR1 and he waited for me as I finished my energy drink.

Walker grinned and yanked me into a back-slapping hug. “The prodigal son, home at last.”

“Prodigal son, my ass.” I topped my brother by three inches and fifty pounds and he still managed to make me feel little. “You’re the son whose wife is carrying the first Lund grandchild. If anyone is golden, bro, it’s you.”

“It’s a strange turn of events for me to be the first one to do something in this family.”

“How’s Trinity feeling?”

“Oddly calm. We’re four months in and she hasn’t freaked out once. Not even when she felt the baby move.”

“Maybe she’s saving the freak-out for the delivery room.”

“Bite your tongue,” Walker warned. “Any time women bring up delivery room horror stories, I bolt.”

“No talking about babies,” Brady said as we reached him, leaning against the steel door, a mug in his hand. He drained the contents and pulled me into a hug. “Glad you’re here, Jens.”

“You’d think since you’re both the big bosses at your respective jobs we could’ve waited until six A.M. to meet up.”

Brady ruffled my hair. Like I was five. “Need extra beauty sleep, pretty boy?”