Chapter 3
Arizona
“Austin!” The side of my fist came down hard on his door. “You have exactly sixty seconds to get out here before I revoke your right to privacy and use my key.”
If he thought I was kidding, the kid was sorely mistaken. With my phone in hand, I pressed start on the stopwatch app.
Ten seconds.
Twenty.
Thirty.
Forty.
Fifty.
It was a damn miracle my hair hadn’t gone fully gray at thirty-one. If it wasn’t work stressing me out, it was Austin. God was probably having a good laugh as he watched me struggle to raise the spirited, stubborn boy. There was no doubt he was karmic retribution for how wild I’d been at that age.
Sixty.
“Ready or not, here I come!”
I reached for the knob just as the door swung open to reveal the annoyed fourteen-year-old on the other side.
“Jeez, where’s the fire?” he huffed, hefting his backpack onto one shoulder.
My eyes narrowed at his sarcastic tone. “We needed to leave ten minutes ago.”
Austin brushed past me and down the stairs. “Last time I checked, school doesn’t start until 7:45. We still have plenty of time to get there before first bell.”
I followed closely behind, making sure he didn’t take a detour to the kitchen on the way out the door.
“What? No breakfast?” he complained.
Locking up, I tossed over my shoulder, “You can grab something from the cafeteria.”
He let out a pleased hum as he slipped into the passenger’s seat of my sedan.
The school meals were practically gourmet and pricey as hell.
It was a rare treat for Austin to enjoy one because, despite my status as one of the top realtors in the city, we couldn’t afford to be frivolous with our spending.
Medical bills and the five-figure monthly cost of the memory care facility ate up a huge chunk of my commissions.
Tossing my messenger bag in the back, I hopped behind the wheel. As we pulled out of the subdivision, I explained, “I can’t be late today. I’m showing houses to a high-profile client.”
Austin glanced over. “How high profile are we talking?”
“You know I can’t name names, but they’re a professional athlete.”
He whistled. “Damn, that’ll be a nice windfall.”
Breathing room was more like it. My cut of a multimillion-dollar home sale would be enough to pay down our debt, start a college fund for Austin, and stash the extra away for a rainy day.
Keeping it light, I teased, “Yeah, well, we’re gonna need it since you’re determined to eat me out of house and home.”
Instead of laughing, Austin clenched his jaw. “No one asked you to take care of me.”
He was right about that. The one person who could have asked was no longer in their right mind—the majority of the time, at least. But that didn’t change the fact that he was my responsibility.
Irked by his attitude, I shot back, “Would you have rather been placed in foster care?”
Behind the thick lenses of his glasses, storm clouds gathered in his blue eyes—an identical match to mine. “I’d rather live with my dad.”
Fuck, not this again.
I sighed, dropping my head back against the seat as I navigated the route to the middle school. “Austin, we’ve been over this.”
He folded both arms over his chest. “You were seventeen when I was born, Arizona. You can’t seriously expect me to believe you never met my father.”
God, I wish I hadn’t.
Lying about this was in his best interest. I was protecting him from the brutal reality that was his origin story.
“I don’t know what to tell you, bud.”
“This is so fucked up.” Austin scoffed.
Maybe, but it’s for the best. You have to trust me on this one.
“I want to go see Mom today,” he demanded.
I knew exactly what would happen if I granted that request. In the mood he was in, he would press her for answers about the man who’d contributed DNA to his creation.
If she wasn’t lucid—which was typically the case, her disease progression advancing far more quickly than the doctors had initially predicted—she might divulge information that he wasn’t ready to hear.
Or worse, she would grow so agitated that the nurses would be forced to sedate her.
Either way, it was a lose-lose for everyone involved.
The truth was better off buried, for everyone’s sake.
“Probably not a great idea. Her nurse said she’s having a bad week.” Another lie, but add it to my list of sins; it wasn’t like I was headed for Heaven anyway.
His fist beat against the side of the door in frustration. “When isn’t she having a bad week? This is so unfair. You got both a mom and a dad growing up, and I might as well be an orphan at this rate.”
“I’m sorry.” It was the only thing I could think of to say.
“Me too,” Austin muttered under his breath.
Pulling into the drop-off loop at school, I’d barely pumped the brakes before he jumped out, as if he couldn’t get away from me fast enough.
“Have a good da—” My words were cut off by the slamming of the door.
Great. Dealing with a surly teenager this morning was the last thing I needed. Not when arguably the biggest sale of my entire career was on the line.
God, it was times like these when I really craved a drink, or something stronger, the most.
Shake it off, Arizona. Put on your professional mask where you’re the baddest boss bitch this side of the Rockies.
Hauling in a deep breath through my nose that I let out slowly through my mouth, I drove toward my office.
It was time to sell Levi Nixon a house.
“Mr. Nixon is here,” my assistant’s voice filtered through the intercom.
I pressed the button that would allow me to reply. “Send him in.”
A few seconds later, the man’s presence filled my open doorway, and I stood from my desk, smoothing down my skirt. Circling my desk, I approached my potential client with an extended hand.
“Arizona Cleary. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Nixon.”
There was a long pause as his gaze swept over me from head to toe, pausing for a touch too long on my breasts before meeting my eye, where I saw the spark of interest in his.
Oh boy.
It wasn’t the first time a client had expressed an attraction to me, whether verbally or with body clues like Levi Nixon was doing now.
And while I could admit he exuded a raw sex appeal—I mean, holy hell, those muscles, that chiseled jawline with just the right amount of scruff, and the devil-may-care smirk teasing up a corner of his lips—this needed to stay professional.
Since I was supporting both Austin and my mother, I couldn’t afford to put my position—my reputation—at risk for a chance to get laid.
Even if I would outright kill for an orgasm that came from a flesh-and-blood dick instead of one made of silicone.
The rough callouses of his fingertips grazed the sensitive skin of my palm as his hand slid against mine so that we could shake.
“You can call me Levi,” he purred, voice deep and husky.
And cue the damp panties.
This close, his scent curled around me like a caress, and I bit back a whimper. Fuck my life that this gorgeous, rich man was completely off-limits.
Swallowing thickly, I cleared my throat before repeating, “Levi.”
Gesturing toward the plush chairs positioned opposite my desk, I invited him to sit while rounding to my side.
Space was definitely needed to clear my head.
My focus needed to be on doing my job, not on picturing what it would be like for him to sweep an arm across my desk before he bent me over the edge and made me scream.
Get a grip, girl. You’re at work!
I squeezed my thighs together, hoping that would be enough to ease the ache, as I asked, “Why don’t you tell me what you’re looking for. Location, ideal square footage, bedroom and bathroom counts, any must-have features, and most importantly, price range.”
Levi reclined in his chair, propping one ankle on the opposite knee. “I want to be on the Pacific oceanfront. Everything else is negotiable.”
“With a true oceanfront property, we are talking about at least an eight-figure price tag,” I cautioned, needing to ensure we were on the same wavelength before I wasted time showing him listings that cost more than he was willing to spend.
He lifted a shoulder as if that enormous amount of money was of no consequence, remarking, “I am prepared to make an all-cash offer when we find the right house.”
A cash offer? Holy fucking shit, was this guy for real? If so, I needed to send the biggest fruit basket I could find to the teammate of his who referred me after I sold him a home last year, as a thank-you.
Working like hell to maintain my composure, I navigated the internal listings network to narrow it down to a few that met his criteria that were available for me to show him today, several of which were in the exclusive gated neighborhoods of La Jolla.
I jotted down the addresses and entry codes on a notepad before standing. And just to be absolutely certain I’d covered all my bases, I asked, “Should we consult with Mrs. Nixon? Perhaps via video call if she hasn’t made the move out here yet?”
Levi chuckled. “There never has been, nor will there ever be, a Mrs. Nixon.”
Message received. Loud and clear.
He wasn’t just letting me know he was single, but that he intended to stay that way.
It was a relief learning that he was untouchable after that initial spark of arousal.
While dating was the last thing on my mind while raising Austin and taking care of an ill mother, if I did ever decide to put myself out there again, I would be looking for a partner, someone to help carry the burden.
Meaningless hookups were a thing of my better-off-forgotten past.
“Shall we head out?” I motioned toward the door for him to precede me.
Levi rose to his full height, and damn if I didn’t have to crane my neck with us standing this close.
“We can take my car,” he suggested, pulling a key fob out of his pocket when we emerged from the building, the California sun high in the sky.
I plastered a fake smile onto my face. “Uh, sure.”
Allowing him to lead me across the parking lot, we came to a stop before a gleaming luxury SUV. With a beep and the flashing of headlights, it was unlocked, and Levi held open the passenger-side door for me.
“Thank you.” I ducked my head in gratitude.
By the time I was buckled, he’d already rounded the hood and gotten behind the wheel. “Where to first?”
I reached toward the touchscreen monitor, which featured a GPS. “May I?”
“Be my guest.” Another charming grin was aimed in my direction.
Using a fingertip, I typed in the address of the first house I planned to show him. At this rate, I prayed it was the one because I wasn’t sure how long I could bear to be in such close proximity with the man before I combusted; he was that scorching hot.
Levi shifted the car into gear, following the turn-by-turn directions that came through the speakers. It would take about thirty minutes to reach our destination.
Long, awkward silences were hell on my anxiety, so I made sure to drum up small talk during the drive.
“You came from the East Coast, right?”
The man at my side grunted. “Connecticut.”
“Brrrrrr.” I shivered dramatically. “Sounds cold.”
His eyes slid in my direction, a spark of amusement in their brown depths. “Are you gonna tell me you’re one of those West Coast girls who’s never seen snow in real life?”
A smile tugged onto my lips as I raised one hand. “Guilty as charged.”
“Adorable,” he mused, shaking his head. “I was fortunate enough to get to experience that wintery precipitation during my days of youth travel hockey, so I didn’t make a complete fool of myself during my first winter in New England. Though I will say, learning to drive in it was a real bitch.”
My ears perked up. “Wait, are you a California native?”
“LA born and raised,” he confirmed. “But far enough inland that we didn’t get to the beach as much as I would have liked.”
His preference for location made sense now. “That’s why you want oceanside.”
A snap of his fingers rang out inside the cabin. “You got it. I like the idea of being able to swim out any time I want to catch a wave on my board.”
“Sounds liberating,” I breathed out.
Levi smirked. “That’s the whole idea.” He jerked his chin in the direction of the Pacific Ocean to our left as we drove north. “Out there, it’s just you and the sea. Nothing else matters.”
Maybe I needed to take up surfing. God only knew how badly I could use a moment of peace.
We pulled up to a gatehouse, where I gave my ID to the attendant, who cross-referenced it with the name he’d been given by the listing agent before returning my license and granting us entry to the luxury community.
As we drove through the gates, I pointed out the amenities included in the monthly HOA fee—tennis courts, a private golf course, a fitness center, and a clubhouse with on-site dining. And if all that weren’t enough, the stunning view of the Pacific couldn’t be beat.
If money were no object, this was exactly where I’d want to live.
In a perfect world, Levi would put pen to paper on an offer today.
The car rolled to a stop in front of the first listing I planned to show him.
Ready to sell the shit out of it, I brightened my voice.
“You are just gonna love this one.”