Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
MILLER
“What the fuck do you mean, I missed the Seaport meeting?” I whisper-shout at Brooke on the other end of the phone.
Not that there’s anyone around to hear me. I know Frankie’s already left the barn because I’m watching through the loft window as she walks back to the house.
My entire body is still vibrating from having my hands on the perfect ass that’s swinging gently from side to side as it gets farther and farther out of my grasp, from having my mouth on her perfect lips and from her leg draped across my screaming cock.
The last thing I wanted was to break off what we just had going on, but the text from Brooke jolted me back to reality, reminded me that I’m not here to get all touchy-feely with the woman whose property I’m trying to buy.
I am not Miller McSweeney, the digital nomad investor looking for meaning in his life at the bottom of a pile of donkey shit.
I’m Miller fucking Malone, who already has plenty of meaning in his life in the form of billions of dollars of luxury condos scattered across the Boston skyline and a fun side gig as part-owner of the city’s most beloved soccer team.
Focus, Miller. For fuck’s sake, focus on the task at hand.
And not on the two delicious butt cheeks that are now disappearing into the house.
I need to remember why the fuck I’m here—and that’s definitely not to let the contents of my pants get the better of me.
Not that it was only lust that sparked the incident on the stairs. No. There is definitely something else that happens when she looks at me. Something more than a crotch stirring.
It also stirs things in my brain, like some cells in there have been lying dormant my whole life, just waiting for her to wake them up.
And then there’s the thing in my chest, like unscrewing a cap from a carbonated drink that’s been given a good shake.
If I were all woo-woo, I’d say it’s the feeling you’d get if you looked at someone you’d met in a previous life.
But I am not.
So I’d never say anything of the sort.
And it’s not like there could ever be any future in something with Frankie anyway.
How could there ever be any future in it when I’m living a lie?
But…
No buts, Miller. There are no buts.
Fuck, what a fucking mess. And every bit of it has been made by me.
All this nonsense needs to get itself right out of my head before I lose sight of the one and only reason I’m here—Skinner and what he started seventeen years ago when he ruined everything for my family.
And I need to not forget that I have my actual job of running my fucking business to do.
“I mean exactly what I said,” Brooke replies. “You were supposed to have a video conference with a guy from the city about the building permit for the Seaport project. He wasn’t happy with the sprinkler plans, remember?”
“Shit. Yes. The sprinkler meeting. Of course.” I turn away from the view of the back door to the house that Frankie just closed behind her and pace across the loft. “I forgot it was today.”
Getting that guy to shut up about the sprinklers, which are totally compliant with all laws, regulations, and codes, is crucial to getting a building permit in time to start construction on schedule. And I have a lot of money on the line with this building. A lot.
“Okay, let’s first deal with how panicked you sound,” Brooke says, like she’s using me as practice for how to calmly deal with a toddler tantrum.
I’m more baffled by my own behavior than panicked.
I’ve never forgotten about a meeting in my life. Never had anything business-related just fall completely out of my head.
Maybe my tunnel vision about getting Skinner back has clouded my judgment and distracted me too much.
Or maybe it has nothing to do with Skinner and everything to do with the woman I was just kissing and about to…Christ, what was I about to do?
I push my hand into my hair. “I’m not a panicker, Brooke.”
And I’m not. I pride myself on always keeping the coolest head in any negotiation.
That’s how you get the best deals. But fuck me, I was already rattled enough by the unexpected feelings Frankie’s stirred up inside me.
Layer on the realization that those feelings are making me lose my business focus, and my nerves are now in uncharacteristic freefall.
“I know you’re not,” Brooke says. “That’s why I’m worried about you letting this Skinner thing get out of hand.”
There’s a pause while she takes a sip of drink.
“Anyway,” she continues, “I apologized profusely and told the city guy that you’d been called out of town on an emergency.
I didn’t mention donkeys.” Another pause while she lets out a small, quiet burp.
“Excuse me. Then I said I’d send him some new plans with the tweaks he’d requested.
There are new plans with tweaks, right?”
“No. I refused to make any changes because the sprinkler locations are perfectly fucking fine as they are and the guy is just being a pen-pushing ass.”
“Okay, well there’s going to have to be some tiny change somewhere now that I’ve said that. I’ll talk to the architect and get him to do something that justifies me claiming there are tweaks but is so barely noticeable that you’ll be happy with it.”
“I’m so sorry I’ve wasted everyone’s time.” I twist my fingers into my hair and let out a long sigh.
“It’ll be fine,” Brooke says, sounding more maternal by the second.
“Because I begged and groveled and basically refused to get off the phone until he agreed to reschedule the meeting for next week. It’s now on Wednesday.
It’s in your calendar, and I’ve set every notification, bell and whistle to go off half an hour before.
So, as long as your phone hasn’t been flushed down a toilet, you shouldn’t miss it. ”
“You’re a star, Brooke. Thank you for saving my ass.” I sigh and shake my head, realizing I’ve just uttered the sanctuary’s slogan.
“And I did all that with massive heartburn.”
“You would have been welcome to just tell the city dick to go fuck himself with a sprinkler.”
“Would I have been allowed to paraphrase? I’d prefer not to use profanity in a professional setting.”
“You use it with me all the time.”
“That’s different. Sometimes you need it.
Because you’re a non-dick who occasionally gives the impression that you might be a dick and need to be told to not behave like a dick because you’re not one.
” She lets out a long exhale. “Like, for example, now. In this ridiculous situation you’ve got yourself into over there. ”
“Yeah, well, that one knee-jerk decision I made in the coffee shop a couple of days ago now has me in too deep to back out.” Emphasis on the jerk.
I draw my thumb and middle finger across my eyes until they meet to pinch the bridge of my nose.
“I think it might work, though.” Remember why you’re here, Miller, remember why you’re here. “Frankie’s no fool. And she’s practical. She just needs a nudge in the right direction to take our offer.”
“Frankie?” Brooke says it with a smile in her voice. “You mean Frances Marie Channing, the other name on the title? You’re on casual nickname terms with her, huh?”
“It’s what everyone calls her. It’s what she introduces herself as.” That comes out a bit snippy and defensive. Because of course it does. I’m riddled with guilt over not only what just happened, but the whole fuckery of the situation I’ve created. But, yeah, mainly over what just happened.
Brooke laughs. “Calm your tits. I was only teasing. But if you want some more good advice while I’m here…”
I stop my pointless pacing in front of the window that looks out to the rear of the property. “Oh, Lord. Go on.”
“Stop misleading that perfectly nice woman, and—”
“Bye, Brooke.” I hang up.
I know I’m wrong. But it’s too late now. All I can do is limit the damage by not letting any of the kissing and groping things happen again.
Christ, they were good, though.
Her tongue against mine, her hand on my stomach, her rock-hard nipple between my fingers.
My cock twitches at the recollection.
“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter to myself as my phone pings again.
brOOKE
You hung up before I could thank you for the nursery design service. A very nice woman called earlier. Said she’d been sent by you as a gift. Very thoughtful. We appreciate it. Thank you.
ME
You’re very welcome. Kit it out with whatever you need.
Hmm. Doing a good deed feels good—like being wrapped in a cozy blanket.
I shove the phone into my back pocket, then rest both palms on the top edge of the window. I haven’t looked out in this direction behind the property much before.
The view is packed with trees, some with bare branches, some with a few fall-colored leaves still clinging on, some evergreen. Behind them is a large grassy hill with a road winding up the side. Looks like there’s only a single house up there.
The frame makes a cracking sound and gives a little under my weight. One thing Skinner was right about is that this beautiful old structure is not in the best of shape.
Ah.
A sudden thought forces me upright and curls my mouth into a smile.
There is something I can do to at least make his malicious threat against Frankie go away. And it’s a chance to—how did Brooke put it?—prove I’m a non-dick who’s just currently giving the impression I am one.
And it’ll have the bonus of earning Frankie’s trust so she might be more likely to take my advice when the time comes for me to nudge her toward my offer.
I take out my phone again and make a call.
It’s answered on the second ring.
“Well, hello,” says the voice whose unconditional love always makes me feel better about everything.
“Hi, Mom. Is Dad around? Wondering if the guys are busy right now.”