CHAPTER 22 Tatum Barker
Manila Envelope
I’m not mad, but I’m definitely…something.
Hot, for one thing.
I tear off my jeans and bra, and I change into just a T-shirt for bed, not bothering with shorts.
I slip under the covers of the bed in the guest room. All alone.
I don’t think he realizes how ready I am to move on. Or how freaking horny I am after all that hot kissing.
Archer was a good kisser, but there’s something totally different about Ford’s kisses. They’re all-consuming, like our souls are somehow connecting.
This feels big. Important. Different.
I’m trying not to make comparisons to Archer, but it’s hard since he was my first love.
My first…well, everything. I don’t have a big basis for comparison outside of him except for one hookup after one of our breakups.
He had one, too. We both thought it was well and truly over that time, and when it wasn’t, we were honest with each other about it when we got back together.
And I get it from Ford’s perspective. We thought it was well and truly over in the past, and it wasn’t. He’s waiting for us to get back together since we have every other time.
He doesn’t want to be the hookup I have to confess to my partner when we patch things up. But that’s the thing—we’re not patching things up this time.
The past week in Vegas felt different. Of course I still love Archer.
He’s a great guy, and I spent half my life either wanting to be with him or actually being with him.
And I think that’s part of why we held on so long.
It was comfortable. It was easy. But it was also nothing more than friendship for far too long despite trying to pretend like it was more.
And nothing made me more aware of that fact than seeing him in the flesh and not feeling those old feelings I once felt. I didn’t have butterflies when I landed in Vegas. Instead, I had dread.
But when I landed back in Tampa, I had butterflies. I had excitement to see Ford. My pulse thundered so loudly I could hear it in my ears. My legs felt weak. I felt nervous. It felt like the start of something new. Exciting. Different.
And that kiss?
God.
I touch my fingertips to my lips as I think about that kiss, and then I can’t seem to help myself as I lie in the bed in Ford’s guest room. I picture the surprise in his eyes at the airport as I moved in toward him, just before I closed my own eyes and pressed my mouth to his.
I lick my fingers, and then I push them into my panties.
I stroke my clit softly at first, and I open my thighs to give myself more room.
I push my finger into my pussy, and I didn’t need to lick it first. I’m plenty wet after Ford warmed me up with all that kissing.
It was deep, sensual, sexy. Fucking hot.
I pump my finger in and out as I remember the feel of his mouth on mine. The way he smelled, the way he tasted. The way he felt.
I slip my other hand under my T-shirt and grip onto my nipple as I slide my finger out of my pussy and furiously rub my clit.
I feel the wave wash over me as something gives way, and I clamp my legs together as the pleasure undulates over me, pulse after pulse.
I do my best to stay quiet through it, but my God, did I need that release more than I realized.
The only problem is that as soon as it ends and I lie panting alone in the guest room, the ache presses in on me again.
I want Ford Bradley, but it looks like I’m going to have to wait for him.
I’m not used to waiting. I’m used to getting what I want because I go after it.
And I could go after it. I could walk into his room, tear my shirt off, and slide into bed beside him, and he’d give me exactly what I want.
But I can’t do that to him. I can’t do that to us. He’s right. If we’re going to make it past a one-night hookup, we need to wait until the time is right.
It feels right for me, but it looks like maybe it’s not right for him.
* * *
Ford agreed to accompany me to our manor to show Devon and Lindsay around the place on Tuesday. I walk into the kitchen after I’m ready for the day, and he nods toward some takeout boxes on the counter.
“I ordered breakfast.”
“Thank you,” I say, and I open the top box to find an omelet with two sides of bacon. I pass that container over to Ford, and I open the second one to find waffles and sausage.
The man knows me well, I’ll give him that. “This was really sweet of you.” I grab a sausage from the box and take a bite, and I tip my head back in ecstasy. Something about the salty goodness of breakfast sausage just can’t be beat.
He shifts a little, and he shoots me a wry look. “You sure know how to torture a guy.”
I make a little show of it, moaning loudly with my second bite. “You’re the one who wants to wait.”
He chuckles. “I’m ready.”
My lips lift into a smile. “I know. So am I. But I get it, Ford. We’ll give it a little time to be sure it’s going to work. After all, we have an investment together to consider.”
“There are no guarantees it’s going to work no matter how much time we give it,” he points out.
I open the syrup container and dump it all over my waffle. “I’m just saying, we have the manor to consider. And as a friend…I can’t lose you.”
“So you’ll never be ready?” he asks. “Or am I worth that risk?”
I glance up at him, and a heated beat passes between us as our eyes connect. I think of his lips on mine last night. “You’re worth the risk. When you’re ready, we’ll jump together, okay?”
He nods, and I hope he’s ready sooner than later.
We spend the rest of breakfast talking shop about Winston Manor, and then we head out to the place itself to get ready for our first couple’s site visit.
It’s exactly as we left it, and my chest fills with excitement as we walk through the front door. I don’t think that feeling will ever go away. This is ours, and that’s pretty damn exciting.
Ms. Winston moved some personal effects out but left mostly everything. We find a manila envelope sitting on the little table in the corner of the kitchen, where we’re set to meet with our first potential clients in a few minutes.
As we get closer, we both see words written in small handwriting on the outside of the envelope. To the New Owners.
Ford and I exchange a glance, and he picks up the envelope and turns it over in his hands before he offers it to me.
I shake my head. “You do it.”
He tears it open and pulls out a sheet of paper. His eyes move over the words on the paper, and they widen at one point as his breath hitches.
“What is it?” I ask.
He shoves the paper toward me, and I grab it and start reading.
Ford and Tatum,
Thank you for agreeing to my terms about the manor.
Selling it was never about making money.
I don’t have anybody to leave the money to, anyway.
I thought about a charity, or splitting it among the workers who have been with me for decades, but ultimately I wanted it to go back to the manor.
To that end, the money has been put in a trust in your names.
The money will be released to you upon the conclusion of your wedding ceremony here at the manor.
The only requirement is that the first wedding at the manor after ownership has transferred is between the two of you.
There are no other strings attached to this.
You don’t have to stay married for a certain amount of time or anything like that.
I already know you will be together forever based on the way I saw you interacting the day I showed you around the manor.
You share a bond that’s rare, but it’s obvious to anyone looking for it.
I’ve searched for it in the couples who wed here in the sixty years I planned weddings, and I hope that you’ll find it in the weddings you plan, too.
Here’s to forever love and the future of Winston Manor.
-Edith Winston
“She’s leaving her money…to us?” I ask.
His eyes are wide. “If we get married.”
“Holy shit, Ford. We could invest in more properties. This is incredible!” I fling my arms around him without thinking about how maybe this isn’t so incredible.
She thought we were a couple. We’re not. We’ve talked about it, sort of. But marriage? The first wedding here at the manor now that we’re the owners?
That’s when we hear a knock at the front door.
I pull back, and I don’t have time to process any of this because we have guests. We have a tour to give. A wedding to plan. A wedding that will have to take place after ours if we want to see that money.
“Let’s, uh…let’s talk after we show them around, okay?” Ford asks carefully.
I nod, and we rush to the door to let them in. “Welcome to Winston Manor,” I say, sweeping my arm out to showcase the grand ballroom.
Lindsay gasps as she takes it in. I think Devon gasps, too. This place is a hidden gem that’s not going to be so hidden now that I’m here.
We’ll have events every weekend. We’ll make enough to hire a staff to manage it so I can keep building toward my dream.
And we even have the chance to get our investment back. I just have to find some way to convince Ford that it’s the right thing to do.