Chapter One #2
I shake my head. “Now you’re the age police? Or are you jealous that there’s a man your age out there who’s still trying to date and have an actual life?”
“Okay,” Reed groans, leaning against the back counter with a cup of coffee in his hand. I have no idea how he’s lived up here as long as he has. This space is way too small for him. He looks like a giant. “If I wanted a twenty-year-old girlfriend, I could find one, but I’m not a fucking pervert.”
“Well,” I sigh and clear my throat, “I’m not twenty.
I’m twenty-two, and considering he’s not even asked me out yet, I don’t think he’s a pervert, though I do think that he’d be a great buyer for your houseboat.
Just think about it. The whole deal could be finished by next week.
You’d have cash in your pocket, and you’d be ready to start your new adventure.
” I wrinkle my brows, realizing I don’t know what his plan is. “What is your new adventure?”
“Well,” he presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek, “I’ve got this month-long motorcycle trip planned across the west coast. After that, I’m going to move into the cabin I’ve been building periodically for the last couple decades.”
I try to ignore the part about the motorcycle trip, though for some reason it’s settling like concrete in my stomach.
“You’re still building that cabin?”
“Yup. Way too damn big, but it’s finished. You’ll have to come find a good spot to hang that picture of the mustang you took.”
“I mean, I think it would look good front and center over the fireplace.” I smile, still biting back questions about the motorcycle trip. “I assume you have a fireplace.”
“Oh yeah. Kind of a necessity up here.” He scrubs his big hand down over his beard and squares his shoulders like he’s trying to seduce me.
It’s working, though I’m also insanely jealous.
Why am I jealous? He’s finally finished his cabin, and he’s going on a trip he’s been thinking about forever.
These are good things, yet my brain is flooding with images of all the women who’ll be throwing themselves at him on the road.
Small town bars filled with lonely, leggy hoes, every single one of them desperate for a no-nonsense, bearded, muscular, inked-up giant in a leather jacket with a finished cabin tucked away in the mountains near a stream.
“The motorcycle trip will be fun,” I lie, swallowing down the lump in my throat. “Any specific locations?”
“Just blowin’ with the wind.” His thick fingers drift to the gray patch beneath his chin, absently working through the coarse hairs. “I just want to be free for a while, see where the road takes me.”
Another flash of trashy sluts and cheap hotel rooms swamps my mind, but I push them away.
I really need to stop thinking about Reed so sexually.
He’s way too old for me, my father’s best friend, and clearly, we’re on different life paths.
Plus, he’s never been the cheap hotel, easy woman type of guy.
At least, not that I know of. Then again, why would someone advertise that?
Thankfully, my phone buzzes in my back pocket, interrupting my spiral, though unfortunately, it’s my father.
God, I don’t want to answer it. Nothing good ever comes from answering one of his calls. Unfortunately, if I don’t answer, he’ll hound me until I do.
“Hey. Everything okay?” My stomach churns as I wait for his response. I’m pretty sure this is not a healthy way to react to a call from my father, but here we are.
“No,” he grunts loudly. “Everything is not okay. I just got off the phone with Mr. Mulligan. He said you were rude and disrespectful.”
“What? Why? Because I wouldn’t go to dinner with him? Dad… he’s a total creep.”
“It’s part of the job, Nikki. We build trust with our clients by treating them like family. People expect that from us. It’s why they choose Iron Crest Realty over everyone else in town.”
I hate working for my father. “I know your policy, and I—”
“It’s not my policy. It’s how people should be treated. If you want to do well, you’re going to have to get that through your head.” Dad clears his throat. “I told Mr. Mulligan you’ll go to dinner. You’ll meet him tonight at the Italian place on Main.”
“No!” I press, my chest tightening. “He’s a weirdo. I just told you that.”
There’s a brief pause, and I know there’s only a moment before he unleashes.
“You’ll go to dinner with Mr. Mulligan, or you can explain to the seller why you lost the deal.
Your biggest sale yet. Don’t screw this up.
” He hangs up the line and leaves me with a stomachache that antacid isn’t going to fix.
“That sounded fucking awful.” Reed leans in slightly, his hand on my shoulder. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I say, swallowing hard. “Totally good. I, ugh, I better run. Apparently, I’ve got a dinner to get ready for tonight.”
“Wait.” He holds my arm in place. “Since when does your dad set you up with strange men for dinner?”
“Are you kidding?” I laugh. “This is his thing. I’m his employee, and I do what he says or I lose my job, and what then?
I didn’t go to college, and I can’t make a living off selling pictures.
Once I get some more experience, I can look for a job with another brokerage.
Right now, I just have to bite my tongue, let him run his mouth, take his ninety percent cut, and—”
“Ninety percent? No. What? He’s taking a ninety percent cut? This is fucked up. I’m going to talk to him. He can’t treat you this way. You’re his daughter.”
I pinch my lips together tightly as I stare up at the man that’s protected me for as long as I can remember. All I want is to fall into his arms, but that’s weird now, given the way my pussy has been reacting when he looks at me.
“It’s no big deal. It’s one dinner. Plus, I was in a bad mood the day I was helping Mr. Mulligan. I probably misread his intentions. It’s one dinner, then he signs the paperwork for the sale, and I’m—”
“Not even getting the full profit. Since when does a brokerage take ninety percent of the agent’s earnings?”
“It’s not unheard of. A lot of brokers do it while the agent is still learning.
” It’s not a lie, I looked it up, but that steep of a cut is very rare, and my father is definitely taking advantage of me, though he’d probably frame it like a lesson learned.
He’s been teaching me lessons my whole life that to most would look a lot like screwing someone over.
Heck, he’s the guy who sold the bike I bought with chore money to teach me not to leave my assets unsecured.
Apparently, I was supposed to keep it locked up in my own driveway.
“That’s fucked,” Reed groans, his shoulders stiffening. “He’s your father. He should be cutting you a deal. I’m sorry, kitten. I’m going to talk to him.”
“Please don’t,” I sigh. “Please. He’s not who you think he is. If you rile him up, my life is only going to get more complicated. Trust me, okay?” I hold out my pinky finger. “I need you to pinky swear.”
I haven’t pinky sworn anything with Reed in years.
I think the last time I asked for a pinky swear was my senior year of high school when I asked him to pick me up at a party my dad didn’t know I was at.
There was drinking involved, and Reed came to my rescue, though he did give me a lecture about it afterward, but it was still better than what my dad would’ve done.
“I can’t swear to that, kitten. This isn’t right. You’re out here doing all the footwork. He’s making you do things that—”
“Pinky swear,” I press, wiggling the smallest finger on my hand as I stare up at the giant man I’ve known most of my life. “I’ll talk to him, but it has to come from me.”
His jaw tightens. “Where’s the dinner tonight?”
I already know why he’s asking. Truthfully, I wouldn’t mind him being there. I don’t know this guy, and when I say he’s weird, I mean weird.
“The Italian place on Main. Six o’clock.”
Reed nods once and slides his calloused pinky into mine. “I’ll give you until the weekend to renegotiate things with your father. After that, I’m saying something to him. At the very least, you’ll get the majority of my sale or I won’t use his brokerage.”
I know my father isn’t going to care about a small sale like this, but I appreciate Reed’s kindness, and lean into his solid chest for a hug, trying not to notice the masculine, woodsy scent on his chest.
God, why does the man have to be so enormous, and why do I have to feel so safe in his arms?
His big hand wanders my back, and he growls low under his breath. “I’d do anything to keep you safe, kitten. You know that, right?” He’s still holding the hug. The big, warm, solid hug that I want to melt into. The one I’ll think about when I’m lying down tonight, when I’m touching myself.
“I know,” I whisper, not bothering to pull away until our bodies have been pressed together for an awkwardly long time.
“Good,” he groans, kissing my forehead gently. “I’ll see you later.”
“Later,” I say, swallowing hard, panties sopping wet, my mind in the gutter…