Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
S he had no idea where she was going, but she couldn’t listen to Brody for another minute. He’d offered to give her a house?! It wasn’t the same as him paying her for sex, but this wasn’t far off the mark. The Pretty Woman transformation was complete.
For a hot second, she’d expected him to tell her that he’d decided to stay in Merriweather Springs. Or at the very least split his time between there and here. That he’d realized how well they complemented each other and, like her, was ready for more.
Instead, he’d left her questioning her own judgment. What they had was nothing more than great sex. God. She had been blind.
Skirt still bundled in her fists, she blew by Dante, Penelope, and Zach without acknowledging them. She had to get the hell out of here. And go where, she had no idea. She couldn’t continue pretending to fit in with this crowd while wearing a bought-for-her designer gown.
“Reagan.” Brody kept his voice down as he wound around the crowd.
“Leave me alone.” She sent that directive over her shoulder. All that they’d shared had been a mirage. A fantasy. She’d started believing it was reality. Nothing had changed for him.
“Reagan.”
Before they garnered the attention of the entire party, she stepped out of the ballroom. Brody caught her, which wasn’t hard to do since her feet were killing her in these stupid shoes.
“Can you let me explain?” He kept pace with her as she yanked on one locked door after the other in a long corridor. “Where are you going?”
“I don’t know.” She yanked on a third door and nearly fell on her face when it swung open. The empty boardroom was dark, save the glow of city lights through the windows.
“What the hell is going on?” He shut the door behind them. “I thought you’d be happy to have your house back.”
“Happy to hear that you were giving me the house I grew up in?”
He blinked, appearing genuinely confused. “Yeah. Don’t you want it?”
She put her hand to her forehead. “I do want it, just…not like this.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
His eyes held such earnestness that she had to question her own sanity. What was the problem? He was offering her what she needed most: a place of her own; and what she wanted most: her grandfather’s home.
But there was something missing. Something she would be missing. Brody. Meanwhile, he didn’t believe anything was missing. His life wasn’t mapped out. He wasn’t going from A to B to C. More like A to F and over to Y and then a quick jaunt back to J. He was going to go wherever the wind took him whenever the mood struck. For him, Merriweather Springs was a temporary dalliance. For her, it was where she’d built a life.
“I want a permanent home,” she said.
“I know.” He rubbed her arm, the gesture sweet but also sad. Because she knew another truth: he wasn’t looking for a permanent home. And the reason behind that was the most inconvenient truth: nothing had changed his trajectory.
Not even her.
She’d known better than to involve her heart. But the more time she’d spent with him at the house, the more at home she’d felt. That too was an illusion. She’d mistakenly allowed her heart to become entangled with her panties.
She could confess the truth to him now. Tell him that he’d won her heart and her loyalty. Ask what, if any, compromises he would be willing to make for her. Or…
Or.
She could choose herself. Reagan had always been able to trust herself when almost everyone else had let her down.
“I’ll buy it from you. The house.” It was the cleanest way to end things with him. For her, them being together hadn’t been transactional, so buying Ike’s house back would, in a way, balance the scales.
“Absolutely not.”
“I need to pay for it.”
“You don’t.” His tone was firm. Not a tone she’d often heard from him. “More importantly I won’t let you.”
“Excuse me. You won’t let me? I am capable of purchasing a house, Brody.” She did a mental inventory of her credit score and her bank account and amended, “Or I will be. By the time the book is done and you’ve moved back to New York, I’ll have the downpayment.”
“I can’t let you buy a house I’m capable of giving you.” He appeared genuinely confounded.
“And I can’t let you give me a house that I’m capable of purchasing.” She shot her chin forward. She could also be firm.
His shoulders moved up and down as he took a deep breath. After assessing her posture—arms folded, lips pursed—he dipped his head into a nod. “I don’t like it, but I suppose that’s fair.”
She offered her hand. “Shake on it?”
He regarded her for a moment before kissing her hand instead. He didn’t stop there. He feathered kisses up her arm and then laid one on the top of her shoulder, lingering there for a beat.
“Brody.”
“Stop acting like you hate me.”
That was the problem. She didn’t hate him. She was pretty sure she loved him. Eyes shut, she reconsidered her own stubbornness. It wasn’t fair to paint him the villain. She knew him well enough to know that this hadn’t been transactional for him either.
He hadn’t played her or taken advantage of her once. He’d treated her well and had made sure she had everything she needed. Including a bed to sleep in.
Brody had been the real him this entire time. It was Reagan who had tried on an identity that hadn’t fit. Asking him to change would be like asking a cactus to sprout feathers. It simply wasn’t in his DNA to be in a long-term relationship—to settle down. He’d told her that from the beginning—in myriad ways.
His hands wrapped around her waist while his lips moved from her neck to her ear. “I don’t like fighting with you. I’d rather make love to you.”
Goosebumps erupted on the surface of her skin. She’d never been particularly good at refusing him, and this was an offer she knew she’d take. He drew a yes from her like juice from a ripe orange. She’d miss him when he left, without a doubt. But he was here now, his piney cologne tickling her nostrils, his intoxicating kisses making her want to shout yes to whatever he offered.
He smiled against her damp skin before setting a kiss on her lips. Her heart suffered a tiny fissure, but she welcomed it. If only because she knew she’d found the real thing. Not love the way Dustin had defined it, like numbers on a spreadsheet. But love as Brody defined it. Wild, untamed.
She didn’t know if she could let him walk through the front door of 388 Maplebrook again if he did visit. But that was a problem for future Reagan. Present Reagan was right here, right now.
He unzipped her dress and pressed the flat of his palm on her bare back, deepening their kiss as he unhooked her bra. “God, you’re beautiful. I can’t wait any longer to be inside you. Don’t make me wait.”
He sounded short of breath. She had to admit hers had gone shallow as well. Partially from the truth she had bound with rope and thrown into a dark corner of her heart. He could never know she loved him with such intensity.
Ever.
“You don’t have to wait.” She dropped her dress to the floor and then tossed her bra aside. He wasted no time kissing her nipple before sucking it into his mouth. When his fingers slid into her panties, she held on to the boardroom table for purchase.
She clawed his back, arching when he moved his attention to her other breast. She would buy the house from him and say goodbye when the time came. At least one thing would be set right. She would own the home she’d grown up in. Finally.
Where the man who sold it to her would go was anyone’s guess. She wasn’t sure even Brody Crane knew the answer to that.
Brody stepped out of the restroom and adjusted his cufflinks. He’d given up on his hair—it was permanently bent into the shape of Reagan’s fingers.
He smiled as he waited for her to exit the ladies’ room so that they could reenter the party together. God, that woman. Never in his life had he met someone who could heat his blood and blank his mind. And yet, even in that boardroom, there had been more between them than incredible sex.
She had leveled with him more than any woman had, excluding his mother, but Keaton had her own agenda. Reagan didn’t have an agenda. She hadn’t moved her storage unit in—he had. And she had been the one to show him what a real home felt like.
He’d set out to conduct an experiment. Could a billionaire who had never settled down manage it? And he had. It’d been simple. Natural .
Inspired, he reached into his pocket for his phone and opened the writing app. As he pecked his thought into the keyboard, someone approached, but he couldn’t risk looking away and losing the epiphany he was in the middle of having.
“Hang tight, sweetheart, getting this down before I forget.”
“Sweetheart,” boomed a male voice followed by a raspy chuckle. “Shit, son. I’m flattered.”
“Dad.” His epiphany frittered into the atmosphere. The man standing in front of him wore a black tuxedo, no bowtie. He had as much hair as Brody, only Octavius Crane’s was stark white. “What are you doing here?”
Octavius grinned, his tanned, weathered face making him appear like the most distinguished Hollywood actor of his time. “Nice to see you too.”
“I didn’t expect you to be here.” Brody blinked hard, his brain struggling to shift gears. He’d connected with Reagan in a deep physical and emotional way, which had him feeling tender and contemplative. In his father’s unexpected presence, he shored up, pulling his shoulders back and shifting his focus. It was a radically different plane from the one he’d been on. “I thought you were in Rome. Or…India?”
“I was in Egypt. Too dry.” O plunged his hands into his pockets. “Why are you hanging around the commode? There’s a stuffy party in there your brother is running. I don’t know why he likes that sort of thing. I mean, yeah, Zander is stuffy, but his stuffiness is more kingly in nature. Dante’s is more like he’s been burying his feelings for a decade and can’t function in normal society any longer.”
“He’s working a charity event, Dad. Give him some credit.” Their father had always been resistant when it came to formality. Where Uncle Alex had gone full-on corporate mode with Crane Hotels, Octavius had preferred leaping from business to business without any real commitment, or as he’d referred to it, “Chasing the adventure where it led.” He’d never settled down, and he had it all: money, a business, a family… Fragmented at times, but they were family.
Brody had emulated him.
“Normally you’re not this prickly. Bowtie too tight?” Brody asked.
“I prefer less limiting clothing, for sure. Board shorts and an ice-cold Corona. But this is nice. Crane hotels always feel like stepping into a parallel universe. This could have been my empire.” He gestured around at the stark white and black interior, the only splashes of color the paintings on the walls.
“No way. After two hotels you’d have jumped ship to start something else.”
“Yeah.” His father’s hazel eyes took on a far-off look, like he’d briefly glimpsed that parallel universe in his mind. Then he blinked and turned his head. “Hello there, young lady.”
“Hi.” Reagan looked from Brody to Octavius and then back again before recognition dawned on her face. “Is this your father?”
“Octavius Crane, meet Reagan Palmer.”
“O,” he corrected. He shook her hand and then kissed it; a move Dante had copied and Brody had perfected.
“This exquisite creature is with you? I don’t believe it.”
Reagan’s smile was cautious. Brody took her hand, and she sealed herself to his side. The light scent of her perfume tickled his nostrils—it was soft, with a hint of sweetness, and reminded him of kissing her body moments ago.
“I’m going to go in and find Jaylyn,” she said. “Find out how many people bid on her ring.”
“She has a ring in the auction?” Octavius’s shoulders snapped back. “That’s my girl. She’s been hiding for too long. She’s damn talented.”
“Yes, she is,” Reagan agreed.
Octavius pulled a wad of cash from one pocket and flipped out a few thousand dollars. “I’m bidding at least three grand. There’s no way it should go for less than that.”
“Dad.” Brody sent an apologetic look Reagan’s way, but she only smiled. “If she catches you stuffing money into an envelope she’ll be pissed.”
He frowned. “Reagan could do it for me.”
After Reagan had accused Brody of making her a charity case, his dad offering her three grand was bad timing. He pushed his father’s hand aside. “You can sneak over when the crowd builds.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to ask you to do my dirty work.” O grinned at Reagan, who eased at Brody’s side. That was a close one.
Arm around her waist, Brody said into her ear, “You okay going in without me? I should remind my father of his manners before I walk him in there.”
“I’ll leave you two to catch up.” A twinkle lit her eyes, one he’d seen before. After they’d slept together that first time, and each time thereafter. His heart thundered, a familiar thickness in his throat returning.
She gave him a brief kiss before walking into the ballroom. A sheen of sweat prickled his forehead.
“Congratulations.” His father wore a know-it-all grin.
“For what?”
O folded the cash and stuck it back into his pocket. “I never thought you’d fall in love, yet here you are.”
Brody laughed, but it sounded forced. “I’m not in love. We’re?—”
“Living together. Jaylyn told me.”
“She’s buying the house when I move out. She grew up in it.”
“When you move. Back to the city, I presume.”
“Yeah.”
“You’re keeping things light.”
“Yeah.” Brody rolled one shoulder, uncomfortable with the description. Probably because of everything he and Reagan had shared, he couldn’t recall many, if any, shallow moments. They’d been in the deep end from the start. Even so, he offered a weak, “My penthouse is here, so it makes sense.”
“But your house is there.”
“It’ll be her house soon enough. Settling down isn’t for me. I’m like you.” He’d hoped that reminder would curb any argument to the contrary. No such luck.
Octavius frowned. It was as if a dark shadow had been cast over him. “Being alone isn’t as fun now as it once was. If it ever was. If I were your age again and found the woman who made me feel understood, seen? Son, I’d upend my entire life to make her mine.”