What guests?There’s all of three cars in the parking lot. And I’m sitting in one of them. Not sure how many renters they’ve been greeting lately. “I’m so sorry for your loss. It sounds as if you had a wonderful life together.”
“That we did, son. That we did.” The delight in his tone is evident, warming me up to the overbearing old coot. He’s made this acquisition a lot more complicated than I’d envisioned. I had prepared myself to elicit the usual professional tactics required in a high-stakes acquisition. Yet I hadn’t planned for Milton’s focus on my marital status. “My preference is to sell to a family man, like myself. To ensure the owners never lose sight of what’s important.”
My eyes roll as I prepare the lie on my tongue. “Unfortunately, I’m not sure my fiancée will be able to join us tonight, Mr. Beaumont.” The line goes quiet for a tad longer than feels comfortable. It’s as if he knows. “It’s her family,” I splutter. “She’s very devoted.”
Good grief. I’m going to hell.
This is merely business. I’m certain if this conversation were occurring with my stepbrother, Dev, he’d have convinced Milton tosell to him sight unseen. And trust me, Slick Willy will undoubtedly never have a family, much less a fiancée.
I had an ideal upbringing. My mom shared stories of being swept off of her feet by a rich, handsome aristocrat who pledged his eternal love, begging her to marry him. For a single mother from Washington, D.C. working two jobs, she said it felt equivalent to starring in a Cinderella retelling. It wasn’t until about ten years ago that the niggling feeling emerged that I might grow to be a disappointment to her.
My stepfather, Charles Sly, owned a chain of prestigious hotels in Europe and had just acquired locations in New York, Los Angeles, and D.C. when he met my mother. He’d groomed his son, William, Devon to family and friends, to take over the family business. A decade his junior, I rarely saw much of my stepbrother while he was attending the University at Oxford. When he did return home, he barely acknowledged my presence. I couldn’t help idolizing him. His charisma, confidence, and good looks had everyone he met enthralled. Yet my admiration was later replaced by an unavoidable comparison syndrome, which left me feeling I’d never measure up.
I refused to live in Dev’s shadow. So once I made the decision to return to the United States, I developed a business plan. Instead of investing in large hotels as my stepfather and stepbrother had, I’d focus on acquiring smaller properties I could acquire at a discount and renovate them, creating a unique boutique experience catering to the uber rich.
My stepfather had established a sizable trust fund for me once I graduated university. It was paramount to make careful financial decisions so as not to squander a penny. Nothing about procuring hotel properties came without risk. Additionally, there are so many options for luxury travel now, it’d be easy to go all in and lose big.
“Well, I’m certain if you stress how important it is that she accompany you…” Milton’s words jolt me back to the here and now, and I pray I can convince him to give me a chance, regardless of my single status. Because after my last relationship, the very last thing I want is awoman by my side. “Oh, I’m afraid I’ve got to run. Duty calls. I’ll meet you at Lake Anna Bar & Grill at seven.”
Thankful to end the call, I answer, “Yes, sir. I look forward to meeting you.”
As I put the truck in reverse, my eyes fall on the time. I’ve got three hours. Three hours to get cleaned up, polish my impossible to resist business proposal, and return with a mail-order fiancée.
Sure. No problem there.
6
BEN
“It’s a beautiful evening in Hanover,”the radio announcer states. Sure, if you like it unbearably hot with a side of 100% humidity. Not sure what the point was in returning home to shower and change. I’m going to have my dress clothes stuck to my skin the moment I walk out the door.
After quick thinking, I jump out and remove my white dress shirt before draping it over the hanger currently housing my suit jacket. Glancing down at my thin undershirt and suit pants, I consider driving to the restaurant in just my boxers so I don’t sweat through my clothes.Nah, too risky.I’ve got some jeans in the back I can wear until I can change in the hotel parking lot. Hell, it’s not like any patrons will see me.
Placing my baseball cap backwards onto my head, almost out of habit, I turn onto the main thoroughfare. I’ve barely made it ten miles before I nearly hit the brakes in the middle of the highway at the sight before me. An older model navy-blue Dodge Ram pickup is parked along the shoulder, and the most glorious ass I’ve ever seen is hovering next to what I assume is a flat tire. I instantly pull behind the vehicle and throw my truck into park as if I don’t have one of the biggest deals of my life waiting for me.
I debate turning off the ignition before exiting my truck until I remember how fucking hot it is. Better keep that AC going. Hopefully, she simply needs help changing the tire, and I’ll be on my way. “Hi. Need some help?”
“Oh!” she squeals, her lithe body jumping in surprise. Standing to her full height, she’s probably about five foot five with gorgeous, lightly tanned, toned legs extending from her tiny jean shorts. Her blonde hair is haphazardly piled on top of her head, with a few wayward wisps clinging to her sweat-covered nape. It isn’t until she spins to face me that I take in her beautiful face.
My breath catches in my throat. This girl isn’t just gorgeous. She’s a vision. The type of woman men go to war over. She has fair, unblemished skin apart from a smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks. Her dazzling blue irises are rimmed with flecks of gold that twinkle under the summer sun. I’ve never been so captivated in my life. Well, until my eyes catch sight of…
Are those pasties?
Wearing a tight white tank top molded to her perfect breasts, with what appear to be black paw prints covering each nipple, it’s a fight to keep my focus on anything but her tits.
“Uh hmm.”
My eyes flick up from where I’ve been ogling her, um, shirt. “Hi,” I blurt, flashing a toothy grin at her. She seems to shift from foot to foot uncomfortably beneath my gaze. Am I making her nervous? Then I remember. Keep your eyes above her neckline, dumbass. She looks awfully young.Hell, is she even legal?“Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Depends. Do you own a tow truck? This old battle ax has been on borrowed time for a while now. I don’t think there’s any chance of fixing it here.” Her voice comes out broken, as if she’s teetering on the edge of a catastrophic meltdown.
I take a quick inventory of her vehicle and confirm the tire in front of us is flat, with a can of sealant lying precariously on its side. Glancing at my watch, I wince. This is going to be tight, but I can do it. Heading toward the back of her vehicle, I toss over my shoulder, “Where’s your spare? In the trunk or underneath the truck?”
“Thatwasthe spare.”
Shit.
Removing my baseball cap, I nervously drag my hand through my damp hair before returning the hat to my head facing forward. The bill of the hat offering little reprieve against the sun. “Here, let me call a tow?—”
