Chapter 15
CHAPTER 15
LIAM
“ G ood evening everyone! Welcome to tonight’s annual Board of Realtors celebration.” The woman at the microphone waits as applause fills the room. JoAnna Blair is the president of the Association of Realtors in our area. I met her a few years ago when she was fairly new to real estate. Her signature platinum blond hair, botox eyes, and over-plumped lips are part of the image she has created for herself, and if you think I’m exaggerating, just look at one of the many billboards around town and see for yourself. She calls herself Lady Jo. The only things that have changed in her appearance over the past five years are her “big” hair and her even bigger boobs, which seem to get “bigger” every year, likely growing at the same rate as her bank account.
I know, I know. I sound very chauvinistic and judgmental, but I have a hard time taking the woman seriously. Maybe it’s because she never seems to speak with me without placing her hands somewhere on my person and purring. Think I’m kidding? Believe me, I wish I was. The woman has at least ten years on me and cannot take a graciously polite “no” for an answer.
From what I’ve heard, her reputation is as phony as the color of her bleached hair. But then, she’s been re-elected every year since I began working for my parents so maybe I should cut her some slack and give her some credit. After all, she’s the top seller in residential sales and has been for the past three years, so the woman must be doing something right. The public seems to love her.
“I’d like to recognize our visiting dignitaries: Mayor Mandy Briggs, City Council members Annah Johns, Hector Rivera, and Jason Donnelly.” Another round of applause follows before JoAnna continues droning on with all the usual formalities. But I can’t focus on Lady Jo because the woman seated next to me has stolen all my attention.
Before I tell you what happened when I picked Andie up earlier this evening, I need you to understand something. Andie is pretty. Like, really pretty. The kind of pretty that needs no enhancement. So, it doesn’t matter if her hair is pulled back into a ponytail, gathered on top of her head in one of those messy bun-ish things, or tumbling down her back in a mess of curls. Makeup or no makeup. Dressed up or casual or sweaty from a workout. Andie’s is a time-honored kind of natural beauty that haunts men’s dreams. I should know, because she’s haunted mine numerous times.
She was cute in high school. Adorable. And over the past fifteen years, she’s only gotten prettier. So I’m accustomed to paying her compliments, I do it all the time, no big deal.
Know what I’m NOT accustomed to?
Being rendered speechless.
Andie texted me just before six and told me to text her when I arrived and she’d meet me in front of her place. Her townhome has a two-car garage and a driveway located to the rear of the property, so guests have to park in the areas designated for visitors. When I pulled up alongside the curb, I shifted my truck into park and got out so I’d be ready to open the passenger door for Andie. You know, because it’s polite and it’s what gentlemen do.
There I stood, leaning against my truck, catching up on the news…okay, that’s a lie. I was watching TikTok videos okay? Shoot me. But that’s not the point. The point is I was focused on my phone so I didn’t see her when she first stepped through the door. I didn’t notice her until a flash of red dragged my attention away from my phone. Andie was already coming down the stairs leading to the sidewalk.
She was a vision! Absolute, stunning, female perfection. She raised her hand to wave hello but then put her finger up, signaling that she’d forgotten something. And then she turned around to walk back up the stairs.
And that’s how my phone ended up in the street’s catch basin, where it is likely well on its way by now to one of the many storm sewer outlets located between Eugene and heaven knows where.
I didn’t even care. Okay, I cared a little, because it’s a pain in the butt to replace a phone, but when Andie turned around and I caught a glimpse of her bare back in that categorically lethal red dress, my brain misfired, leaving me speechless and apparently, incapable of holding onto a cellphone.
Andie had done her hair in a side-sweep, so her entire back was on display, right down to where the curve of her waist begins to slope outward to her hips. The material of her dress sits so low on her back I could almost see the dimples peek out from just above her bikini line.
I’m a pretty cool guy. Smooth. Confident. Plenty of game when it comes to women–as Nell so frequently reminds me. But I can’t even begin to tell you the thoughts that swept through my mind at the sight of Andie’s bare back framed in that dress. Believe me, said thoughts were not anywhere in the vicinity of gentlemanlike.
Phone forgotten, my feet moved without waiting for the command from my brain, and before I knew it, I was standing behind her as she fit her key into place and turned the deadbolt to its locked position. As if the sight of Andie’s bare back wasn’t torture enough, the realization–upon closer inspection–that the only thing holding the front of her dress in place was one button fastened where the straps came together at the back of her neck, was nearly my undoing.
One button. One single, solitary button, tasked with keeping Andie’s entire dress properly in place. Don’t mistake me. I’m no prude; Andie’s dress is sexy as hell. It’s the button that’s got me all worked up. It’s been teasing me, taunting me all night–and the night is still young. Currently, my arm is draped over the back of her chair. Do you have any idea how easy it would be for me to reach up and pop that button loose? All it would take is one simple flick of my finger. Or I could trail my lips up her spine and pop the button with my teeth. Of course, I would never do anything of the sort without permission, and never in such a public place, but–
This! This is why I’m losing my mind right now and why I couldn't care less about my phone or Lady Jo’s speech. The only thing I can think about is when I’ll finally be able to dance with Andie and caress my fingers along her spine.
Well, that and the bothersome button that’s been taunting me all evening! It’s like a siren’s call.
What’s worse is the little minx knows full well what she’s doing to me. Well, of course, she does. It’s not like I’ve been able to hide it. And trust me, I’ve given up counting the number of men checking her out tonight. I’ve seen more than one man slyly (and not so slyly) searching her finger for a ring. It makes me wish we had opted for a fake engagement instead of fake dating. Maybe I should suggest that to Andie.
Lady Jo must have finally grown tired of hearing the sound of her own voice because people are beginning to mingle again. Thank heavens. Perhaps standing will help me clear my head .
“Would you like a drink?” I ask, leaning in a little closer than necessary.
“Yes! I thought that woman would never stop talking!” Andie says below her breath, which is perfect because it gives me a reason to hover close a moment longer.
“The usual?” I ask.
“Thank you. I’ll be over there talking with Grams,” she says, nodding to one of the raffle tables where Grams is speaking with the broker from one of our commercial competitors.
I don’t stop to speak with anyone as I weave my way through the crowd to the bar. Once I grab our drinks, I head in the direction Andie indicated, only to find her and Grams joined by Layton and Addison. Layton leans over to whisper something in Andie’s ear causing her to laugh, and I squeeze my glass so hard it might have cracked. What could he possibly have to say to her that needs to be whispered in her ear? And what was so funny it made her laugh like that? And since when did they become such close pals, anyway?
“They’d make a striking pair, don’t you think?” Grams says in a voice low enough only I can hear.
“Who?” I ask, pretending I don’t know exactly who she means.
“Those two,” she gestures stealthily to Andie and Layton. “Look at them. They have similar coloring–dark hair, olive skin. They look good together.”
“Woman, you must have fried your chicken in motor oil! They look nothing alike.”
Grams laughs and reaches up to pinch my cheek. “Whatever you need to tell yourself, boy .” She emphasizes the word boy in response to my calling her woman, then looks past my shoulder, cutting me off before I can respond. “I need to go chat with JoAnna for a minute.” Giving my cheek a final pat, she says, “Enjoy yourself, Liam.”
I watch Grams as she walks away. She’s only gone a few steps before she looks back at me and gestures for me to keep my eye on Layton and Andie. Blast my scheming grandmother and her annoying attempts at matchmaking! Ignoring her, I turn around to face Andie.
“You ever plan on handing that to your date, or should I go order Andie a drink?” Layton nods to the extra drink I’m holding.
“Layton,” I deadpan, refusing to acknowledge his slight. “Addison, how’s it going?” I ask. Because that’s what polite people do.
I hand Andie’s drink to her and do my best to ignore the resulting smirk that passes over Layton’s lips.
“We were just telling Addison what showed up on the inspection this afternoon,” Layton says.
“I’m very curious to see Landmark’s in-house inspector’s report,” Addison shares. “I want to believe they will keep everything above board.”
Layton shrugs a shoulder. “Too bad we can’t bluff and see what they willingly disclose.”
“Actually,” Andie says. “They don’t know I never canceled the inspection on our end. I could follow up with them about sending me a copy of their inspection when I get to the office Monday morning.”
Layton shakes his head. “Don’t put yourself in that position, Andie.”
“I agree,” Addison says. “Landmark’s been around long enough to know we play by the rules. Peter never should have told you to cancel the inspection. He was out of line.”
“You’re uncharacteristically quiet over there,” Layton says, nodding to me. “What do you think?”
Trust me, Layton, you do not want to know.
I rub my hand across the back of my neck. “Honestly? I think we should table this until Monday morning because right now, I’d like to dance with my date.” I raise a brow at Andie. “You game?”
Andie’s eyes drop to the drink she’s holding and back to mine. “Um, sure,” she says hesitantly. She looks around, “I’ll just–”
“Here,” Layton gestures for Andie to hand him her glass. I offer him mine as well, which he surprisingly takes without a smart remark. Resting my hand on the small of Andie’s back (her bare back–I did mention her back was bare, right?), we begin walking to the dance floor, when Layton calls to Andie from behind me. I don’t give him the satisfaction of looking back, but Andie didn’t get the memo, so she glances back at him. “Don’t forget you promised to save me a dance.”
“I didn’t forget,” she says, smiling. A little too sweetly if you ask me, which nobody did.
I reach my free hand behind my back and flex Layton a finger (I’ll let you guess which one). His laugh reaches my ears and I have no problem imagining the smug look on his face right now.
How is this guy my brother? The question has me chuckling to myself because I’d do the same thing to Layton if the tables were turned. But knowing that doesn’t make him any less irritating.
I’m not exactly sure what Layton’s playing at, but if either of his slimy hands finds its way to Andie’s bare back, I’m going to come unhinged, and if that happens, look out, because, brother or no brother, fists are going to fly. And I suppose that means I’ll have to kiss my down payment goodbye.
If it were me? I’d put a ring on her finger and marry her before she has a chance
to realize what an idiot you are.
Alex’s words flit through my mind. I give my head a sharp shake, hoping to dislodge his words from my memory. I must be losing it or something if I’m hearing his voice in my head. It’s that dang dress again! It’s making me a little insane.
And just for the record, bringing Andie onto the dance floor was a mistake. A huge mistake. Men are raking their eyes over her exposed back, and they aren’t even trying to be subtle about it. I keep hoping the DJ will play a slow song so I can let every roaming eye in the room know Andie is mine.
Would somebody like to explain to me exactly when did I become a possessive moron? I take back every single time I teased Larson for being possessive around Nell. Okay, maybe not every time.
“Do you mind if we take a break?” Andie says, cutting into my thoughts. “I’m really thirsty.”
Because your idiot fake boyfriend dragged you onto the dance floor before you could finish the drink he brought you.
“Of course.” I hold out my hand because this time I don’t plan on leaving Andie alone when I head to the bar.
Turns out it’s good timing, because as soon as the bartender hands us our drinks, Lady Jo taps on the microphone and asks everyone to take their seats for the awards portion of the evening. I may be dreading the tedium of having to sit through a bunch of boring speeches, but on the upside, I won’t have to hit anyone for blatantly staring at Andie’s bare freaking back.
I’m a Neanderthal.
Mr. Suave has traded in his teasing looks and flirtatious grin for a caveman’s club.
“Liam,” Andie whispers once we return to our seats. “What’s with you tonight?”
“Nothing,” I say innocently.
She raises a skeptical brow. “Don’t lie to me. Something’s obviously wrong. Did I do something to upset you?”
And now I’m not only a Neanderthal with a caveman’s club, I’m also a jerk of epic proportions, because none of this is Andie’s fault. This is all on me .
“Darlin’, the only thing you’ve done is show up to this event looking so freaking over-the-top stunning that I can’t stop all these men from undressing you with their eyes.”
“Oh, please,” she bats her hand playfully against my arm, but when I don’t laugh, she sobers. “You’re serious?”
I take a long drink from my water glass and set it on the table. “One. Hundred. Percent. It’s a tough job, you know. Protecting you from predators.”
Andie snorts a laugh. “Way to deflect. Now stop teasing me and tell me what’s going on, because it feels like you’re upset with me about something.”
“I promise, the only person I’m upset with at the moment is me. Okay?”
Andie’s eyes search mine for a long moment before she sits back in her chair and gives her head an infinitesimal shake. I’m blowing it so badly tonight. And what’s worse is I don’t know how to turn things around. I’m caught somewhere between anger and desire, frustration and longing, yearning and raw need. And the thing that is holding me back is this allusive fear that I can’t even define or explain. It’s just there. Hovering.
Put me in the middle of a bar fight with a bunch of drunk idiots swinging broken bottles in my face, and I might be nervous, but I’ll stand my ground until I manage to stare every single one of them down.
But Andie Marriott scares the living hell out of me.
“Finally, the moment we’ve all been anticipating,” Lady Jo trills into the microphone. “It’s time to reveal the recipient of this year’s Association of Realtors’ Realtor of the Year award. This prestigious award has traditionally been given to realtors who have consistently served our community for several years and who have proven their commitment to high standards and ethics throughout the course of an esteemed career.”
“Bleh, bleh, bleh. Can you believe this nonsense?” I whisper into Andie’s ear. She chuckles and puts her index finger over my mouth. She rolls her eyes when I kiss her finger, and then she pats my cheek.
Lady Jo continues to drop clues about this year’s recipient, and Andie and I share our own interpretations of the details. For example, we translate the phrase, “the recipient has made an impressive mark in the world of real estate,” to “pee’d on the most real estate signs.” The phrase, “dedicated themselves to over one thousand hours of community service,” to “tried hard, but couldn’t get a date.”
You get the gist.
It’s a childish little game that Andie and I have played ever since high school. When one of us suspects we’re being subjected to a heaping portion of BS, we change the narrative to something more fitting, or at least, more conducive to our special brand of humor.
“And so, without further delay–”
“Praise the Lord and pass the donation tray,” Andie whispers.
“Let’s raise our glasses to this year’s Association of Realtors’ Realtor of the Year, Derek Parker!”
Andie and I hold our glasses suspended in mid-toast as the room erupts into a round of applause.
“Did not see that one coming,” Andie says with a disbelieving chuckle.
“Nor did I,” I agree. “Too bad we can’t get out of here and miss his speech.”
“No kidding.”
You’d think Derek won an Oscar by the long list of people he thanks after holding up his award and shaking JoAnna’s hand for the traditional photo-op. I don’t miss how she gropes him during the obligatory hug, and I almost feel sorry for the guy. Almost. But nah. Because let’s face it, it couldn’t happen to a better man.
“One lesson I’ve had to learn the hard way,” Derek prattles on, “is that sometimes you don’t appreciate what you have until it’s gone. That’s true in business, in families, and it’s true in our romantic relationships too–”
“What’s he doing?” Andie whispers.
Derek’s eyes are trained on Andie, as are the eyes of most of the people in attendance. Andie pretends to scan the room to find the object of Derek’s words, but there’s no disguising how red with embarrassment her face is right now.
“Hopefully, earning this prestigious award will send the message that I am a man of substance and commitment–someone who’s dedicated to this wonderful profession we’re all part of, and all that it entails. And as such, I’m someone worth taking a chance on. Thank you.” Derek turns to shake JoAnna’s hand again, but as he turns to leave the stage, she pulls him into another hug and tugs him back to the podium. Lifting Derek’s hand into the air, she speaks into the microphone.
“Let’s hear it for this year’s Realtor of the Year!”
The crowd honors Derek with another round of applause.
“I don’t know about you guys, but I’ll bet my next sale that there’s a pretty young lady in this room who's waiting for a private moment with this handsome fellow.”
“Oh, my holy beans and rice on a funnel cake! Please, make her stop!” Andie hisses in my ear.
“Remember how you told me I couldn’t punch the guy?” I whisper. “Just give me the green light–”
Andie skewers me with a look. “Don’t even think about it, Liam.”
“Offer stands, Darlin’. Just say the word.”
“I need to pee,” Andie says under her breath. “I’ll be right back.”
“Want me to come with you?”
This earns me a laugh. “As tempting as that offer sounds, I think I can manage on my own.”
As soon as Andie heads to the restroom, Layton sits down in her vacated chair. “What the hell was that? ”
“The guy’s desperate,” I scoff.
“Guys like that make the male species look like idiots,” Layton says with a half-hearted laugh.
“He’s the worst. I can’t shake the feeling he’s got something up his sleeve.”
“We could always drag him out to the back alley,” Layton offers with a grin.
“Tempting,” I chuckle. “But Andie made me promise not to punch him.”
“Well, I never made that promise, so…”
“True, but she’d blame me for putting you up to it.”
“The guy’s slimy,” Layton sneers.
“No kidding.”
“Do you think she’s okay?” Layton nods in the direction Andie went.
I follow the direction of Layton’s gaze. “She’s embarrassed, but she’ll be fine. She’s a lot tougher than she looks.”
Layton nods. “Good.”
“What’s the deal with you anyway?” I ask.
“What deal?”
“You, flirting with Andie.”
Layton laughs. “Relax brother,” he says with a shrug. “She’s a friend of the family. That makes her fair game for the Graham brothers’ teasing.”
“Really? But why now? Seems sudden, you getting all chummy with her.”
Layton’s brow lifts. “You got a problem with that, little brother? Feeling insecure, are you?”
I shake my head. “Of course not,” I lie. Two men on this planet have the power to make me feel insecure. Dwayne Johnson being one of them. Layton being the other.
“That’s good,” he says with a nod. “Because as soon as Andie comes back I plan to claim my dance with her. A slow one,” he adds, because he knows exactly how to mess with me. “Yep. Nice and slow.”
He’ll claim that dance over my dead body. But I don’t say that out loud because I refuse to give Layton the satisfaction of knowing he’s gotten to me.
“That was some speech,” a voice says from behind me.
Grams.
“No kidding,” Layton and I say at the same time. However, why Layton assumes Grams is speaking to him about Andie remains a mystery. Seems pretty presumptuous, even for him, but I guess it’s all just part of the game for him. Make Liam fume.
“Takes a good chunk of lizard guts to do what he did,” Grams nods.
“You mean how he cheated on her multiple times? Or how he embarrassed her in front of the entire room?”
Grams dismisses my question with a wave of her hand. “I doubt the majority of the people here know who he was talking about.”
“Are you kidding me?” I say with an incredulous glower. “They were together for years, Grams, and everyone in our industry knows it. Even the bartender at the last event knew about the two of them.”
“I think you’re reading too much into it,” Grams says. “Where is she, anyway?”
“She went to the restroom,” I reply. But come to think of it, she’s been gone a long time. “I was just about to go check on her,” I say as I push my chair away from the table.
It doesn’t take long for me to discover why Andie hasn’t returned. She’s standing with her back against the wall, a small crowd gathered around her, and kneeling in front of her is Derek. Kneeling as in, he’s down on one knee. He’s holding her left hand with his, and the surrounding crowd “oohs” and “ahhs” as he attempts to slide a diamond ring onto her finger .
If it were me? I’d put a ring on her finger and marry her before she has a chance
to realize what an idiot you are.
For the second time this evening, Alex’s words haunt my mind.
Maybe Derek isn’t as big a fool as I thought. But he’s still a slimy dirtbag.
One look at Andie’s face confirms how massively uncomfortable she is. She’s not one who likes drawing attention to herself, and she hates making other people look foolish, so this is a double whammy for her. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see the conflicting emotions in her expression. Derek, on the other hand, is oblivious to her. He’s obviously more attuned to his surrounding groupies.
“Derek,” Andie hisses. “What are you doing?”
“Something I should have done a long time ago, Andie. I’m asking you to marry me.”
More “oohs” and “ahhs.”
“Derek, please,” she whispers. “Don’t do this.”
“I know,” he says in an irritatingly placating voice. “You don’t like public attention. It’s one of the things I love about you.”
“No, Derek.” She pulls her hand free from his grip, sending the ring to the floor, where it rolls until it comes to a stop beneath my shoe. Because yeah, I stepped on it, okay? On purpose.
Bending down, I pick up the ring and hold it in my palm. I bite back a scoff because if Derek knew Andie, he would know this ring isn’t her at all. You’d think after dating her for five years he would have some inkling of what she would want in an engagement ring.
I extend my open palm to Andie, offering her a chance to take the ring. Her eyes meet mine and I register the hurt there, and for a tiny moment, I’m unsure which one of us put the look there: Derek or me. The uncertainty is a punch to my gut .
Andie takes the ring from me and tries to hand it back to Derek, who’s no longer kneeling. Instead of accepting the ring back and cutting his losses, he takes Andie’s hand and folds her fingers over the ring.
“You don’t need to answer me now, sweetie,” Derek says.
Sweetie? Really? How much “ick” can a person dish out?
“Hang onto the ring for a few days and think about it. Think about all the plans you and I made–” he gives me a side glance as if to emphasize the fact that he and Andie had made plans together. “–Our dreams of marriage and children, of buying our first home together. I happen to know a pretty decent real estate agent.”
“I don’t need to think about it,” Andie says quietly, as she tries again to give the ring to Derek, but once again, he forces the ring into her fisted hand.
“Don’t you think you owe it to us to at least sleep on it before deciding?” he asks.
That’s it. I can’t take any more of this.
“She said no, Derek. Not taking no for an answer might work for you in sales, but you need to back off and leave Andie the heck alone.”
Andie shoots me a reproving look. “Stop it, Liam,” she says in a hushed voice. “This doesn’t concern you. This is between Derek and me.”
I hold up my palms and take a couple steps backward. She’s right. She doesn’t need me to speak for her or to fight her battles for her. Because Andie’s the champion of her own story.
Why then, does it feel like I’ve got boulders settling in my gut?