Love Flushed (Paperback SIGNED)

"Did you know," Theo said, looking down at the map in his hand. "There's a toilet here that they brought over from England for the conference. Some old king used it."

I rolled my eyes. "We're not here for toilets. We're here for—"

"Paper products. I know." He paused. "But since we're here…."

I cocked an eyebrow at my brother. "You really want to see where a king took a shit?" 

He shrugged. "Why not? Not like we're gonna be able to afford vacations overseas anytime soon."

I hated that he was right. 

"Which way are paper products?"

He consulted the map. "Basically that entire quadrant." He pointed to one of the corners of the giant convention centre. 

I blinked then blinked again. "Shit."

"Yep. That's why we're here." He clapped a hand on my shoulder. "Shit, poop, pee—it's all gonna bring us some money."

"We hope."

"We certainly do. So, plan of attack?"

I eyed the stalls. "Let's do some reconnaissance first—feel out who's looking at recycled options." 

"Sounds good." 

We made our way down the various alleys, accepting information packs and swag, making small talk with reps who were more than happy to discuss their manufacturing and supply chains. 

After lawfully finalising the power of attorney, Theo and I had spent the last week applying for government grants, renegotiating mortgages and payments, and calling every current, former, and prospective client we could to drum up business. 

We'd find out by the end of the month if we were approved for the recycling grant, but in the meantime, we needed to find new clients—stat. When Theo had stumbled across the convention, it had seemed serendipitous. But after talking to half the vendors, I couldn't feel anything but low-grade panic.  

"Well fuck me," Theo muttered, tucking another individually wrapped toilet roll into his branded bag. "I'm never gonna need to shop for swag again."

My gut churned. "No one needs a manufacturer. The ones that might be a good fit are all established, and the start-ups need someone who can meet small numbers. Even if we managed to sign all the start-ups here, we'd still be a few hundred thousand short of what we need." I ran a hand over my face. "Fuck me. We're gonna lose the business."

My brother lifted the convention map waving it in front of my face. "There are still thirty-odd vendors on this list. Surely at least one is a medium-to-large enterprise looking for a company ready to bend over backwards for their business."

"Let's fucking hope."

We continued down the alleys, Theo's good humour waning as we spoke to company after company, none of them interested in a new manufacturer. 

"Last five," he said, as we left the Green Waste stall. "Fuck I hope there's someone in this mix."

I nodded, determined to find at least one contact. 

"Where to first?"

I jerked my head toward a stall with a giant recycle symbol. "Let's try that one."

It looked more like a bar than a trade booth, the colourful pops of individually wrapped toilet paper adding to the festive atmosphere. 

"Who's this?" I asked, impressed with the layout. 

"Shit Happens," Theo read. "Why does that sound familiar?"

I blinked. "Did you say—?" 

"I'll be with you in one second," a familiar voice called. "Feel free to look around."

I twisted, finding a very familiar, very perfect ass pointed straight at me. The woman rummaged in her bag, muttering to herself – her hair falling in a magnificent curtain down her back. 

Fuck. 

I knew that ass. I knew that head of fucking magnificent hair. I'd kissed those legs and the three freckles behind her left knee. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! 

I began to backpedal, attempting to avoid detection but to no avail. As if in slow motion, Annie stood, golden hair flying in an impressive arch as she turned, a welcoming smile lighting her face. 

Fuck, she looked incredible. Black heels, a skintight skirt that showed off all her curves, and a professional blouse with her S#!t Happens logo embroidered on her breast. My fingers itched to rip it apart, revealing her ample curves hidden beneath. 

Hey, dickhead. This is your ex, remember? 

Her smile felt like being touched by the fucking sun—and just as quickly it banked, her eyes narrowing, the glow shuttered. 

"You."

I crossed my arms, fucking pissed she'd tossed me back into the shadows. "Yep, it's me."

"What are you doing here?"

"Same as everyone else, I imagine." I held up one of my goodie bags. "Market research."

"You aren't in sanitation."

"Yet," I corrected. 

"Never. Your father made that extremely clear five years ago."

I exchanged a glance with Theo, seeing my confusion reflected back. 

"What do you mean?"

Annie crossed her arms, leaning back against the bar. 

"Toilet paper," she said, her tone faintly mocking. "Is not worthy of the Garrett name." 

"Yeah, that sounds like something the old fucker would say," Theo muttered darkly.

"Walter's not in charge of the business anymore."

Her eyebrows shot up, some of her righteous anger fading. "I heard about his accident. I'm sorry. I didn't realise it was that bad."

"Oh, it's bad." Theo reached for one of the beers in the middle of the table. "These free?"

Annie nodded, her gaze dancing from me to him and back again. "So, you're running Garrett Paper now?"

"Yep." I cocked an eyebrow. "Just like you always said would happen."

She smiled tightly.

"You're not after a manufacturer by any chance?" Theo dropped a second beer into his bag.

"No. But even if I was," her gaze locked with mine. "I wouldn't go with you."

"Because of Walter?" Theo asked. 

She dropped her gaze, glancing away. 

"Sure. Because of him."  

Liar.

"What if we made you an offer?" I asked. "Worked out a better deal than your current supplier?"

She stared at me then turned and retreated, giving me her back. "No, thank you. But try the Harding team two stalls down. They're looking to expand." 

Theo grinned, gathering his stash of promotional merch. "Thanks, Annie. You're the best."

She lifted her head in acknowledgement but didn't move. As Theo strolled from the booth, I waited, willing her to look at me. I wanted her to acknowledge the ghosts between us. 

Her hands gripped the bar top, her knuckles white.

"Annie, I—"  

An attendee strode into the booth, breaking our stalemate. 

"Wow," he said, glancing around. "This is cool."

And just like that, Annie pulled herself together, a mask slipping into place. "Welcome, I'm Annie, CEO and Founder of Shit Happens. Can I get you a drink?"

I watched for a beat longer, my head now as fucked up as my heart. 

"Did you know about Dad?" Theo asked when I caught up to him. 

"Fuck no. Did you?"

He shook his head. "Fucking idiot. Annie's going places. He's a fool to have not seen it."

"He never saw it. Not once." 

Theo shot me a look. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." I pointed to the Harding stall. "Better get your game face on."

"Linc?"

I glanced at my brother. 

"We're gonna talk about this later."

I grunted. 

"I'm serious."

I rolled my shoulders trying to throw off some of the weight that had settled on them. "Let's deal with the business first. We can talk about feelings and shit later." 

"Fine." My brother waggled a finger at me. "But we will be talking about it."

I made a noncommittal sound. 

Over my dead body.