Chapter 14 The Wise Old Man
Chapter 14
the wise old man
Wes had managed to sneak into the house undetected, showered, and now he was lying on a lumpy couch that was a few inches too narrow and two feet too short for him. It was well after midnight and he was still wide awake. So was his dick.
The memory of Summer’s tits pressed up against his chest while her tongue was down his throat was fresh in his mind. That kiss had made him feel more alive than he’d felt in years—more confused as well. This destructive attraction could only lead to disaster. Yet, instead of heading home to strategize his grand opening, which was the smart thing to do, he was lying on an uncomfortable couch strategizing ways to stay. Not just stay, but be asked to stay. Which made no sense.
He had an entire empire depending on him and all he could think about was Summer and the way she’d opened up to him earlier. The way she’d looked when she’d been laughing. How free he’d felt when she kissed him. It had taken everything he’d had to walk away, but he didn’t want to be another Daryl or Dog Boy—another failed meet-cute. He’d rather wonder for the rest of his life what sex with Summer would be like than be another disappointment. And he knew deep down that if he’d stayed even a second longer they’d have had sex. Just like he knew that if they did she’d regret it, and he refused to be another regret to another person—especially her.
He wasn’t looking for a relationship, but he was looking for more than a hormone-charged quickie. Wes didn’t mind being a pain in her ass, but he refused to be just a distraction from what had become a shitty day for her.
More importantly, he wanted to change her mind about him. He wanted a second chance to make a first impression. Bottom line, he wanted her.
Wes punched the pillow and turned over, nearly falling off the couch. He was just getting settled when the hall light clicked on. He squinted and saw a shadow emerge and something akin to giddiness bubbled up in his stomach. Was she actually coming to him? Was she there to open up, talk about earlier, and admit she liked him as much as he liked her? His dick sure hoped so, since it happened to be his copilot whenever she was around.
“Summer?” he whispered.
“Sorry to disappoint,” a distinctively male voice said. “It’s just me.”
“Me” turned out to be Summer’s father. Frank was dressed in flannel pajamas. His white hair was sticking up like a Q-tip and he had a knitting bag under his arm, complete with knitting needles and yarn sticking out the top.
Behind him was a potato with legs, snorting with every step she took.
Wes sat up and rubbed his eyes to be sure he was seeing what he was seeing, but no matter how many times he blinked, Frank was still there. The older man took a seat in the recliner and pulled out his knitting. Buttercup collapsed like she’d run a marathon, then farted.
Maybe he hadn’t been as stealthy as he’d assumed and this was the whole “What are your intentions with my daughter” speech. Or maybe Frank knew about the bet and was there to ask Wes to leave in the morning as per the terms.
“Did I wake you?” Wes asked.
“No, I did this to myself,” Frank said. “I forgot my CPAP machine at home, and my snoring woke Blanche so I’m couch-bound for the rest of the week. What’s your excuse?”
“I got kicked out too, but for being an ass.”
Frank chuckled and pushed back in the recliner. “We’ve all been there, son. At least you’re self-aware enough at your age to admit when you’re in the wrong. It took me forty years to admit that.”
Wes wasn’t admitting he was in the wrong, he was just admitting that there was a better way to handle the situation than poke the bear. But damn she was sexy when they went toe to toe. No one, and he meant no one, ever took him on. His life was full of “yes sir” people, and it was refreshing, and infuriating, to have someone call him on his shit.
“You could go back in and apologize,” Frank suggested. And without blinking he pulled out what appeared to be a doll from his Mary Poppins bag.
“No, we rock-paper-scissored, and I lost.”
“Guess no one warned you that Summer is the row-sham-bow champ of the family. Girl has this intuitive nature about her.”
Wes didn’t have to be told twice. He had already surmised that. “Normally I’m the champ.”
Frank picked up the needles and started weaving in and out like a knitting champion. “Sometimes winning can be really lonely.”
Didn’t he know it. When it came to business, Wes put winning above everything. He didn’t understand the inner workings of relationships, but he knew how to win. So that’s what he did. Put everything on the line for the bottom line.
“In my world, winning is the only acceptable outcome.”
“I used to think that until my need to win hurt the people closest to me.” Just like you’re hurting my daughter hung unspoken in the air.
Wes ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not doing anything to your daughter. I’m just doing what needs to be done to make my dad’s business a success.”
Frank went quiet, as if formulating his response. The longer the silence stretched on, the more anxious Wes became.
Finally, he said, “I know men like your father. They’re very difficult to please.”
Wes snorted. “Difficult is an understatement.”
“Then why are you doing this?”
He was leery of responding and preferred to keep everything close to the vest. But there was something about this guy, like Summer, that made him want to open up. And here Summer was afraid that Randy was a bad influence on her sister. It was Summer who was a bad influence on Wes.
He’d wanted that kiss and he’d gotten it. Only after he’d told her damning things about himself that could be used against him.
“I’m doing it for Randy.”
“Family is a good reason.”
Wes was surprised by how affected he was by the old man’s approval. He’d stopped seeking approval from people a long time ago. But to be handed it without seeking it released a complicated knot of emotions in his gut. Wes didn’t have a lot of experience with father-son relationships, but if he had, he’d imagine this was what a good one would feel like.
“But is it the only reason?” Frank asked.
“Does it matter?”
Wes was the only one in the company who could pull off this opening, who had the skills to do it, and so he did what needed to be done. There was no way he’d admit the real reasons—not to himself or anyone.
“Reasons always matter.”
Summer was right and he didn’t know jack shit about relationships. He was all business, but that clearly wasn’t translating well into his personal connections. But Frank seemed to be able to balance both.
“You appear to be at a crossroads. I’ve been told that I’m a very good listener,” Frank said.
And for the second time that night Wes found himself saying things he shouldn’t be saying. Breaking an NDA to seek advice from a man who probably made less in a year than Wes made in a week.
“What Randy doesn’t know is that there’s a stipulation to the will. If we don’t grow the business within the fiscal year and open the Ridgefield location on time, then the board takes over. We only have a few months left. I don’t give two shits about my dad’s approval, but Randy still does and I don’t want him to come to the realization that our old man cared more for his company than his sons.”
“In my personal experience, I have found that the line between business and family is a tricky one.”
“You seem to have it figured out.”
Frank chuckled and put the knitting down. “Son, I put my family through hell. Two bankruptcies, and even lost the family home.”
Wes didn’t know what to say. His fiancée hadn’t even managed a long-distance relationship with him, while Blanche had stuck it out through two bankruptcies and they were still madly in love.
“What happened?” Wes asked.
“I was a mom-and-pop minnow who got gobbled up by the big sharks. All it took was a chain store opening in my county and we were out of business in under a year.”
Is that how Summer viewed him? As the shark waiting for a vulnerable moment to attack? It wouldn’t be surprising, since that was how he’d acted from the first time they’d met.
“I should have tightened the belt, but instead I tried to compete and doubled down on equipment and lost,” Frank went on. “I imagine that Summer feels like she’s going to relive that moment again. She’s so afraid to fail financially.”
“She knows how to put on a brave face and put up a good fight.”
A knowing smile crossed Frank’s face, and Wes wanted to ask him what he was seeing that Wes was clearly missing. “Summer is usually the peacemaker. Funny that.”
Yeah, funny that.
“Well, she has it in for me,” he said with a smile of his own.
“Then maybe you should ask her why. You might be surprised at what she says.” Frank’s voice lowered. “Did she tell you that her shop once belonged to her grandmother, then Blanche, and now it’s Summer’s?”
“I think I learned that somewhere along the way.”
“That’s three generations of devotion. Three generations of determination. And three generations of pressure to make it a success.”
Wes could relate to that. But he had a billion-dollar net to catch him if he fell. Financially, Summer had herself.
“If the shop closes, she wouldn’t look at it like a learning experience, she’d look at it like she’d failed her grandmother and her mother. There’s a lot going on in her mind and her life—hardships that she rarely shares. It might be nice for her to get some of it off her chest with someone she isn’t afraid to piss off.”
“Are you suggesting that I offer to become her verbal punching bag?” The thought of that wasn’t as unappealing as it should be.
“Maybe start with being her friend,” Frank said.
“I imagine I’m the last person Summer would want to be friends with.” Although earlier that evening they’d been friendly. More than friendly. And he wasn’t just talking about that kiss. They’d exchanged secrets that felt more intimate than sex.
God, sex. Instead of sleeping on the couch he could have been making love to Summer in her bed. Only he’d walked away. More like ran, because he’d been scared of the emotions she’d stirred up inside him.
And why was he thinking about sex with Summer when he was sitting three feet from her father? Because she made him lose all common sense.
“May I ask you something?”
“Shoot,” Wes said. After years of raising capital, running companies, and being interviewed, there weren’t many questions that could stump him.
“How do you feel about my daughter?”
His pulse thundered because he was, indeed, stumped. How did he feel about Summer? When they were arguing she drove him nuts, but when they were still, sharing space and stories, she evoked feelings he hadn’t felt since his grandmother was alive.
He didn’t mind going toe to toe with her, but got angry when other people did. She was bad for business, but he couldn’t imagine her anywhere else than behind the counter at her bookstore.
“My honest answer is that it’s complicated.”
“Well, before you go any further, you might want to figure it out, because Summer is exactly what she seems—a hopeless romantic who believes in true love and sees the good in people. She loves with all her heart and isn’t afraid to be vulnerable. But she’s had the rug pulled out from under her so many times that I fear once more and she’ll lose that part of herself.”
“Just because I might have feelings for your daughter doesn’t mean I’m pursuing her,” Wes said, and they both knew it was a lie. “I believe love can be a weakness, and most people are in it for themselves. I am the last person she’d want to be in a relationship with.”
That didn’t mean that there wasn’t this pull between them that was getting harder to ignore.
“I saw the way you looked at her at dinner. You tipped the bet in her favor and took the loss because you could see how upset she was that she hadn’t impressed her family.”
“It was a silly competition.”
“To Summer, it was a way to honor her family’s love of food.”
“Then why did they vote for me knowing that it would hurt her?”
“Our family always listen to one another, but some of us have a hard time actually hearing what the others are saying. And when you have someone like Summer, who keeps everything close to her chest, it’s easy to forget just how sensitive she is. She feels things differently than the rest of us. Deeper and more intense. Her ability to love is greater than anyone I’ve ever met.”
“Which can be used against her.”
“Strange, I see it as a strength. And maybe if you open yourself up you’d start to see it that way too.”
“How do you suggest I do that?”
“With the women in this family, it’s one button at a time,” Frank said. “Now, we going to row-sham-bow for the couch or what?”