RIAN
The weeks that follow become increasingly busy with the summer rush. Open houses eat weekend afternoons, and house showings consume evenings. In between it all, I’m in charge of overseeing the renovations for the Paulsons’ beach house because I’m the one who pays attention to details and managing the costs.
My busy days are making it difficult for Pierce to reschedule an actual date. However, we still find time to see each other. Pierce makes himself available on a regular basis, stopping by the beach house to help with little things, which often results in quickies on dusty surfaces. I try to keep it casual, as it’s supposed to be, but he’s so sweet, and fun, and helpful, and all around amazing, so it’s difficult not to get attached.
Usually I wind up back at whatever house Pierce is working on—they’ve purchased yet another property since we bought the Paulsons’ and obviously we were not the realtors—eating takeout on the couch. I even started packing an overnight bag with extra clothes and leaving it in my car for such occasions, since they’re rather frequent. We talk houses and renovations and sex it up like teenagers.
He doesn’t ask any direct questions about my parents again, and I don’t bring it up. Sometimes he makes comments about his own family, as if he’s waiting for me to take the bait, but I never do.
Last night I slept in my own bed for once, alone since Pierce had to make another trip into the city. I actually missed Pierce’s overly warm body and his breath tickling my neck. I even missed Trip trying to edge his way between us. Which tells me the space is necessary.
After weeks of making cookies and watching Pierce strut around in his lime-green Speedo—it’s become a weekly occurrence—Muriel is finally putting her house on the market.
If Marley and I were closer to being finished with our renovations on the Paulson house, purchasing Muriel’s place might be an option, but we don’t have the capital necessary to finance it. We’d hoped to have our own flip finished before Muriel’s home went on the market, but there’s been a delay in getting the plumber in. Coincidentally, the plumber is one of Pierce’s contacts. As ludicrous as it sounds, I do wonder if the delay was intentional. However, interestingly enough, his awesome paving guys were available without a problem, so the driveway looks amazing. If I had to guess, I doubt he’s sabotaging things, and it’s just my paranoia that’s the problem.
Besides, it would be unethical to postpone a sale for our personal gain. I owe it to Muriel to get her the best deal possible, and if I’m being honest, it wouldn’t be Marley and me. Either way, we’ll end up with a sweet commission, and Muriel has already found a new place in Texas, so we’ve scheduled an open house. I may have accidentally failed to mention it to Pierce. Not that it matters. He has Muriel eating out of his palm, so I’m sure, despite my request that she keeps the open house date between us until we’re ready to announce, he’ll have managed to sweet talk the information out of her.
On the morning of the open house I get up extra early and review all the important details, making sure the property specs look good. Rental furniture was delivered and set up yesterday. My plan is to head over around eleven and bake some sugar cookies so the place smells fantastic for the open house.
I drink coffee and hum to the music blasting through my ear buds as I prepare the cookie dough. Cookies and open houses are always a winner. I add cinnamon, because it’s proven to make people feel more at home.
I’m in a fantastic mood when Marley and I get in the car, cookie dough already rolled out and dropped on sheets, so all I have to do is turn on the oven and wait for it to heat.
My sunshine and rainbow mood takes a sharp right turn into what-the-frack land when we arrive at Muriel’s. The incredible, cost-effective landscaping, thanks again to one of Pierce’s contacts, no longer looks fantastic.
“Freaking Pierce,” I growl, throwing the car into park.
Marley frowns as she gets out of the car, and we walk down the freshly laid stone walkway. “What the shit is going on?”
“Son of a B!” I pull my phone out of my purse, find his contact and hit dial.
The smugness in his tone is unmistakable. “Hey, baby, how’s it—”
I cut him off before he can finish, surveying the yard. There have to be more than a hundred of those hideous garden gnomes decorating the lawn. “I hope you’re proud of yourself.”
“I was being helpful. Don’t you think it’s gnomey?”
I grit my teeth as he laughs. “Enjoy the feel of your hand this weekend, because that’s all the action you’re going to see.”
“Oh, come on, Rian, have a sense of—”
I hang up on him and shove my phone back into my purse, even as it starts ringing again. “When the heck did he have time to do this?” I was here last night.
Marley takes several pictures, snickering.
I prop my fists on my hips. “Why are you laughing? We have to clean this mess up!”
“It’s kinda funny. I mean check it out”—she points to a cluster of gnomes—“those ones are having an orgy.”
I throw my hands in the air. “Oh for frack’s sake.”
I spend the next hour tossing Pierce’s perverted garden gnomes into the trunk of our car. I definitely plan to get him back for this, with more than vagina-gate. These gnomes are going to find their way back to him, one way or another.
Marley only has enough time to get one batch of cookies made before the open house begins—thanks to the pervy gnome issue. I’m a sweaty, disgusting mess, and I’m forced to blot myself with wet paper towels and use a hairdryer on cold to dry my sweaty armpits. I am less than impressed.
And of course, Pierce and Lawson are the first people to walk through the door as soon as the open house begins. I hate that I tingle at the sight of him in a button-down shirt and tie. He’s wearing light-gray dress pants that conform to his magical, muscular butt. That I’d like to slap in a non-pleasurable way.
Thankfully, three other couples are right on their heels, allowing me to ignore his fine, jerkface butt. Eventually he gives up on trying to talk to me, although to be fair, I’m engaged with other, potentially serious buyers. The listing price is on the high side, as we’re aware that we can get top dollar for this place since there’s nothing comparable on the market. Also, Pierce and Lawson are so hungry for property, they’ll pay whatever they need to own this place.
By the end of the showing we have three offers, all of them for asking or above. Of course, the highest is from Pierce and Lawson, which is the one Muriel decides to take. Despite the shared commission, on account of Lawson’s new agent, we’re still coming out with a significant amount of money, all of which will help with our next flip. It’s after six by the time we finally leave, the SOLD sign a red beacon of success. This place might not be ours to flip, but whatever comes on the market next could be, so it’s a positive no matter what.
My phone has been going off constantly all day from the confines of my purse. I know it’s Pierce. I don’t bother to read his messages. I just fire off one of my own.
Rian: You’re on a timeout. Marley and I are having a girls’ night—no penis allowed, especially not yours. I’m sure Trip will appreciate not sleeping on the floor tonight.
I get a response which I don’t check. Instead, I turn to Marley. “Let’s go grab a bite to eat, then we can go home, get changed, and have a night out.”
Marley blinks a few times. “Excuse me?”
“You’re not celebrating with Pierce’s peen?”
“Umm, did you miss the pervy garden gnomes this morning?”
“I didn’t think you were serious about the whole ‘his hand being the only action he’s going to get’ thing.”
“Serious as a heart attack.”
Marley grins. “Awesome! Girls’ night!”
I pull a U-turn, heading toward the restaurants, and the gnomes clunk around in the trunk.
“What do you want to do with those?” she asks.
“Oh, don’t you worry. I have a plan.”
We go out for dinner—a nice one at the kind of place Pierce would take me. Before we make a stop at home, we drive by one of Pierce and Lawson’s rentals, which is vacant until tomorrow morning. I know the entry code, having slept there on several occasions. It takes more than an hour to set up all the gnomes, but it’s totally worth the effort.
Afterward we get bar ready. I let Marley pick my outfit—which is skimpy and revealing. For the first time in what seems like forever, Marley and I have a night out with just us. We avoid the beach bars in lieu of something closer to home; that way we don’t have to drive, and there’s less chance of running into Pierce and allowing him to sway me with the peen and apologies.
The cab drops us off at home at three in the morning. I’m hammered. Marley always thinks shots are a good idea. After the first one they’re generally not.
I stop halfway up the front walk when I see Pierce sitting on the front stoop, elbows propped on his knees.
“What’re you doing here?” I’m slurry.
“Waiting for you.”
“I’mma go drink water and pass out. You two lovebirds sort your stuff out, but no domestics on the front lawn.” Marley weaves around Pierce, punches in the code, and clomps up the stairs to our apartment.
“I’m going up too.” I make a move to get around him—I really need the bathroom, but Pierce jumps up to stop me.
“I’ve been trying to get in touch with you since yesterday afternoon. You can’t seriously be this mad about the gnomes.”
I give him the eyebrow. “That was a jerk move.”
“It was funny.”
“It was a pain in my butt. Are you coming up or what? I need to lie down. The world feels like a Tilt-A-Whirl.” I have to use the railing for balance. Yeah. I’m definitely drunk. Stupid shots.
Pierce closes and locks the door, following me to my bedroom.
“I have to pee,” I announce, then disappear into the bathroom. I unleash a tsunami, brush my teeth, but don’t bother to wash off my makeup. Pierce is still sitting on the edge of my bed when I return. I strip down to my panties while he watches, then cover back up with a long, grubby shirt. It’s not dirty, it’s just old and covered in stains. I climb into bed and pull the pillow over my head. I’m not sure what Pierce is doing, and I don’t really care. All that much.
The bed dips and suddenly I feel his body mold itself around mine.
“I was serious about your hand being the only action you’re getting this weekend,” I mutter from under the six-inch fabric-and-foam barricade.
Pierce lifts the pillow. “What was that?”
“Yesterday. I was serious. You don’t get to pull the gnomery and still get the perks of my lady garden.” I fight a laugh, because I think I’m actually kind of funny right now.
I elbow him in the ribs, causing him to loosen his grip. I lean over the side of the bed and nab one of the decorative pillows from the floor, shoving it between us. “Rub yourself on that.”
“Are you really that mad at me? You got what you wanted, didn’t you? Sold the house for over asking. Is the blockade really necessary?” He doesn’t try to move it out of the way, despite it probably being uncomfortable.
“I’m not mad. I’m tired and drunk, and I want to sleep and you rubbing your penis against my rear makes that difficult.”
“I won’t rub myself on you. And I’m tired as fuck too. I’ve been waiting since midnight. My girlfriend wouldn’t tell me where she was.”
My heart clenches a little at being called his girlfriend. “I told you I was with Marley.”
“But not where. I went to every single bar on the beach, looking for you.”
“We didn’t go to the beach.”
“Yeah. I figured that out eventually, after I gave up messaging you and tried Marley instead. I was worried.”
“About what?”
“About some guy that isn’t me making a move on you. About me not being clear enough with you about what this is. I’m not seeing anyone else. I don’t want to see anyone else.”
“We went out dancing. That was it.” Now I’m all swoony and sappy, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“Last time you went dancing there was a lineup of dicks waiting to rub on your ass.”
“I don’t want to see anyone else either.” I say nothing about being rubbed on, because that happens no matter what. “Now can you stop talking and let me go to sleep?”
“’Kay.” He burrows through my hair until his nose tickles my neck. Then his lips find my shoulder. He snuggles in, a few minutes later he shoves the throw pillow out of the way and wraps himself around me.
I feel warm and safe as I drift back to sleep. Maybe too safe, and that scares me, because it feels like I’m giving this man my heart, even though I shouldn’t. Summer ends soon. And then what? Does he take my heart back to Manhattan with him while I have to go on here, alone? I have all these secrets I’m keeping, and who knows what will happen when my skeletons eventually claw their way out of the closet.
* * *
I sleep until noon. It’s blissful. I freeze mid-stretch and realize I’m not alone in my bed. Memories of the bar from last night filter through. Shots. Dancing. Telling some jerk that my butt was not a place for him to grind. Panic sets in for half a second, until the familiar scent of Pierce’s cologne and the perfect fit of his body against mine registers, and I can relax.
“You forget I was here?” Pierce’s voice is sleep raspy.
“I thought I brought home a random, actually.” Only for about half a confused second.
I grin at the sudden stiffness in his body. Then yelp when he pinches my butt. “Not funny.”
“Ow. Where’s your sense of humor?” I rub my rear, which means I inadvertently rub his penis, through the barrier of clothing, but still.
He exhales a heavy breath. “It disappeared with my girlfriend last night.”
I roll over to face him and cover my mouth with my palm. My mouth tastes like a toilet bowl. “I didn’t disappear. I went out with my sister. That’s allowed, you know.”
“I don’t like it when you’re not talking to me. And when I’m not invited.”
“You’re addicted to this, aren’t you?” I motion to what I’m sure is my very messed-up hair. I also don’t think I took off my makeup last night, so there’s a solid chance my mascara is smeared in raccoon-style circles under my eyes.
“Hopelessly.” He kisses the end of my nose, and then backs away so he’s not breathing his sleep breath in my face. “I want to take you out for dinner tonight.”
“Do you, now?”
“Mmm. In Manhattan. We can stay at my condo. I can have you all to myself.”
“You can have me all to yourself right here.”
“But your sister is across the hall. And all the beach houses are rented out or in various stages of reno, and not fit for a sleepover. Not the kind I want to have tonight, anyway.”
“Have you forgotten that your hand is the only action you’re going to see this weekend?”
“Right. Hmm.” He taps his lip. “That’s not a problem. We can make tonight all about you.”
“All about me, huh?”
“That’s right.”
“Dinner and sleepover without orgasms? That should be interesting.”
“Oh, there will be orgasms. I just won’t get to have mine inside you.”
I shiver at the thought of how creative he’s going to get with that, and whether I’ll be able to stand by my own boycott.
I put on a pot of coffee and Pierce hangs out in my bedroom while I shower off last night’s sweat. Pierce lounges on my bed with a coffee mug and a plate of sugar cookies—I’m sure my bed is full of crumbs, but I’ll deal with that later—while I set to packing an overnight bag. I torture him by parading around in a bra and panties while showing him dresses for tonight’s dinner. I drag the entire thing out for as long as I can, and I end up changing my panties three times to make him sweat.
I think’s it’s probably as torturous for myself as it is for Pierce, but I’m willing to suffer because his discomfort is empowering.
At two thirty, as we’re getting ready to leave, Pierce gets a call from his brother. “What are you talking about? They’re what?” His eyes lift to mine and then narrow. “Can you take care of it? They’re in which rental? Fuck. The new guests are supposed to be there in an hour. Just put them in the shed and I’ll deal with them tomorrow when I get back. Fine. Fine. I’ll come help. I’m on my way.”
I smile serenely at him. “Found the gnomes, huh?”
“Well played, Rian. I suppose you wouldn’t be interested in helping me get rid of them.”
“Oh, I did that yesterday, all by myself.”
“I’ll be back in an hour. You better be ready. And I think we might need to renegotiate the terms of tonight’s date.” He kisses me on the cheek and leaves me to finish packing.