Chapter 7 #2
All I do know is that I’m in trouble.
Blake
“Are you even listening to me?”
“Yes,” I lie.
“Look, if now isn’t a good time—”
“It’s fine, I’m listening.” I shift the phone to my other side, my neck starting to ache from holding it against my shoulder.
I can’t focus on a goddamn thing Skye is saying about his ideas for the luxury home development, because all I can focus on is the feel of Tracy’s eyes pouring over me. I should have sent her to an office down the hall.
“As I was saying,” Skye continues, his tone annoyed, “we should really consider subdividing the lots to maximize how many front the water. Even if that means smaller lots, we’ll still maximize their value because of the water frontage.”
He continues on, going into detail about how he wants to subdivide, the annoyance eventually leaving his tone. But I know my older brother well enough to know that behind his fake annoyance is the curiosity of a cat.
I’ve always prided myself on my focus and drive, never letting anything distract me from what Skye, Whitney and I have been trying to achieve.
So, the fact that Skye can tell I’m only half-heartedly listening to what he’s saying is probably driving him mad with intrigue.
I’m sure as soon as we hang up, he’ll be on the phone with Whitney to try to figure out what the hell is going on with me.
Not that I even know what’s going on with me.
I swear to God, everything my brain tells me to do, the opposite comes out of my mouth.
I had zero intention of actually bringing Tracy onboard, but that fiery attitude and stubbornness somehow won out.
And then when she barged in this morning like she owned the damn place, I had every intention of sending her back out until our agreed upon meeting time.
But fuck if she didn’t look stunning in that one piece pantsuit thing she’s wearing, the slim cut of it perfectly highlighting her waist and hips.
The white color against her sun-kissed skin and golden hair makes her look radiant.
Not to mention the little triangle cutout dipping between the swell of her perky tits that had my dick stirring to life, every intention of telling her to leave going out the door, along with my goddamn sense.
Against my better judgment, I look up from my desk to find her eyes on me. She quickly looks away, going back to whatever she’s doing on her laptop, but the redness now ghosting over her tan cheeks tells me everything I need to know.
She’s equally as attracted to me as I find myself to her, and that’s a problem.
Initially, I was going to hand her off to another agent to shadow until her license came in and she could start getting her own clients.
But now? Now I hate the idea of her training with someone else. So, I guess she’s getting her wish: one-on-one training with me. At least until I can get her to fucking quit.
However, this poses another issue: I don’t take clients anymore.
Usually, I pass any inquiries on to the other agents so I can focus my time on larger scale business development and the personal projects Skye, Whit, and I are working on—like this new luxury development.
But if I want to train Tracy, I’m going to have to jump back into the daily grind and take a client.
In the meantime, though, maybe she can make herself useful helping with this project.
I put Skye on speaker and let Tracy eavesdrop on the rest of our conversation, because I know that’s precisely what she’s doing to my half of it already.
She’s tenacious. Annoying as hell. Stubborn as all get-out. And so irritatingly beautiful. It’s proving to be a lethal combination.
“I’m meeting the surveyor out there in an hour,” I tell Skye. “He should have the new boundary lines to us soon, and then we can make a final decision on the waterfront lots.”
“I’m sure they’re not too different from what we have on file already,” he replies, and Tracy perks up in her seat when she realizes I’ve put the call on speaker for her to hear.
“Probably not, but I want the actual waterfront footage before we waste time on hypotheticals. If those old plats are off by even a couple acres, that could change how we subdivide.”
“If you don’t convince the county to change the zoning, that will change how we subdivide,” Skye counters.
I glance up at Tracy, who’s openly looking at me with piqued curiosity.
“Don’t worry about that. It’s already in the works.
” Shuffling the papers on my desk, I secure them with a binder clip and shove them back in my desk drawer.
“Whitney’s got a dinner on the books for us Friday, and I guarantee we’ll have a commitment on the rezoning by the end of it. ”
“You should have been a lobbyist,” Skye says, laughing through the phone.
“I basically am,” I tell him in all seriousness. “The only difference is my interests are in this family and this family only. I couldn’t give a fuck about anyone else, much less all the special interest groups festering in this city.”
There’s a holler and what sounds like equipment starting on the other end of the line. “Yet you buy and sell their homes with a grin on your face,” Skye says, raising his voice over the noise in the background. He must be on a construction site.
“A means to an end, my brother.”
All the business The Frenshaw Group does with DC’s elite is to build this brokerage, and subsequently, my bank account. That money then goes back into Skye’s construction business to help fund these developments, and ultimately, set us all up for life and for generations to come.
My parents did their best to hide it, but I saw how they scraped by.
I noticed at a young age how Mom never bought anything for herself so that she could pay for sports for Skye and myself.
I saw how Dad picked up extra hours to pay for Whitney’s dance classes.
We had a good childhood, don’t get me wrong, but my parents sacrificed.
I never want my family to have to be in that position again.
I don’t want my parents worrying about retirement, or Whitney worrying about how she’s going to afford her mortgage.
I’m building something now so that we never have to sacrifice in the future.
It’s why I can’t afford any distractions or threats to my business.
Specifically, annoying blonde ones with fuck me lips and pretty blue eyes.
Skye yells at someone in the background to get their safety helmet on, then tells me he has to run, muttering a string of curses as he disconnects.
Rising from my desk, I pocket my truck keys, then make my way over to where Tracy sits on the couch, trying her hardest not to look guilty of listening in on my conversation. There’s a little divot in her brow as she peers intently at her laptop, and it’s the cutest damn thing I’ve ever seen.
“Well?” I say, waiting for her to look up at me. I like how this vantage point gives me a clear view down that little triangle cutout on her chest. It makes me wonder if she’s wearing a strapless bra, or if her tits are naturally that perky.
“Well, what?” She doesn’t remove her eyes from her screen.
“Are you coming with?”
She finally lifts her eyes to meet mine, and I give her a grin. The cool expression on her face is belied by the fidgeting of her fingers on the keyboard. She’s eager to get involved in something, but if she answers that she wants to come with, she’s basically admitting to eavesdropping.
I wait to see if she feigns ignorance, or jumps on the opportunity.
She tilts her head to the side, studying me for a moment before rising from her seat, grabbing her bag, and finally saying, “Let’s go.” Her heels click as she makes her way toward the door.
That’s my girl.
My step falters. Tracy is most definitely not my girl.
I don’t need the complication or the distraction of a woman in my life right now, especially one who has managed to insert herself into my business where she doesn’t belong.
Nevermind that I’m her boss. But the fact that she’s not afraid to dive into the unknown with me makes me a little more eager to work with her.
I follow her from the office and down the hallway. When I reach Whitney’s desk, she’s watching me through narrowed eyes.
“What?” I ask her. Tracy pauses at the top of the stairs to look back at the two of us.
“Oh, nothing,” Whitney says flippantly. “Just wondering if you’re about to take Tracy out back and kill her for barging in earlier, since you tried so hard to ditch her this morning.” She raises an eyebrow at me. “Should I bother mailing off her license paperwork or just toss it in the shredder?”
“Jesus, Whit.” I run a hand down my face. Tracy’s enough of a pain in my ass without Whitney piling on, too.
And so what if I was trying to avoid Tracy as much as possible this morning before pawning her off? Doesn’t mean Whitney needs to advertise it. Besides, I’ve changed my mind since then—at least for the time being. Tracy’s attitude may very well change that in the near future.
“I’m sure Skye can hide the body in a foundation or something somewhere,” Whitney adds.