Chapter 39
“What’s this?” I ask as Sammie plops down onto the couch next to me, dropping a thick yellow and black book into my lap.
“Bookkeeping for Dummies,” she announces proudly as she cozies up against me holding a manila folder to her chest. “Sorry, my mom’s visit threw me a bit off schedule but I finally finished up all of your accounting today. Consider the book an apology and celebratory gift.”
I lift an eyebrow at her. “How do I know you won’t stop hanging out with me if I start doing my own accounting?” I tease.
“Don’t worry – I’ll keep coming for the cock,” she says with an irreverent wink.
I toss my head back, laughing.
I’m liking this. I really am. Sammie Trotten’s my girl. Finally. It took me long enough to seal the deal. I had to break her heart, skip town and spend time in jail before I could finally get my head out of my ass and do what I should have done the first time I saw her on the playground back when we were just kids. But every time she looks at me with those big, brown, adoring eyes, I feel like it was all worth it.
She nods toward the manila folder in my lap before smoothing down the collar of her peach cotton blouse. “There are all your reports. Make sure you sign the tax forms. I’ll file them first thing in the morning.”
I quickly flip through the folder, glancing at her charts and spreadsheets and neatly organized data. “Hey, so what about the purchase offer on the tattoo shop? Do you think I’m getting ripped off?”
She looks up at me, beaming. “Keeland…It’s a really good offer. I mean, really good,” she says.
I’d figured that it was a pretty sweet deal. Seven figures for a business I haven’t touched in three years? Sounds freaking awesome to me. And now that a professional has confirmed it, it’s decided – I’m selling Master Ink.
“That’s fantastic,” I say. “I’m really happy about it.” I get up off of the couch and pad over to the hallway closet. I emerge with a huge box. “I have something for you, too.”
“What’s that?” Sammie asks, her brown eyes are alight with curiosity as I approach.
I smirk at her. “A token of my appreciation for your hard work.”
“What is it?” She bounces out of her seat excitedly, reaching her arms out for the box.
I snatch it back, holding it out of her grasp. “My little Sammie, always so eager to get your hands on my package.” I wiggle my eyebrows suggestively.
She rolls her eyes. “You’re so silly…now, tell me. What is it?”
I set the box down at her feet and hand her a pair of scissors. “I tried mailing it to your address,” I say with a chuckle, “but the mailman delivered it here instead of at your place. Totally messed up my vibe. Blind, old bat.”
She laughs too as she slides the blade across the tape and pulls the flaps of the box open. She lifts the first item out of the box, then the second, then the third. She turns to me looking confused. “What is this?”
I pull the seven plain, white t-shirts out of the box and then, the seven pairs of dark jeans. “Your new wardrobe,” I announce stifling a chortle as I take in her reaction.
She crinkles up her brow at me. “Huh?” She’s fucking adorable.
“It’s casual clothes, Sammie. T-shirts and jeans. Ever heard of ‘em?”
She gapes at me. “Are you serious right now?”
“Very serious,” I say plopping down onto the couch. “You’re always dressed…like…like an accountant.”
“An auditor!” she corrects me.
“As if that’s better!”
She folds her arms across her chest and pouts. “I dress the part of the woman I want to become!” She’s clearly incensed by my mockery.
“You need to let your guard down. Live a little. Throw on some flip-flops with some jeans and a t-shirt.”
“It’s 31 degrees out,” she retorts, waving wildly toward the window.
“Argh! You know what I mean,” I say tossing a t-shirt at her. She isn’t able to swat it away before it hits her in the face, then falls to the rug at her feet. She pushes against the smile curling the edges of her lips. “Anyway, I just want to see you have fun.”
“So, you got me jeans and t-shirts?” she hooks one hand on her hip.
“Yes – and this…” I say dramatically as I bend into the cardboard box and pull out a tiny, blue velvet jewelry box. I make a huge deal of straightening my collar and taking a deep breath before I drop to one knee.
Sammie gasps so hard that she robs the room of half its oxygen. She looks scared shitless, to be honest.
Still, I look up at her with nothing but pure adoration in my eyes. “Samantha Mariam Trotten…”
I breathe slowly as I flip up the lid of the box and reveal the contents inside. …
“Will you accept these earrings?”
Sammie expels an enormous sigh of relief as she drops against the cushions on the couch. “Oh my god, Keeland! Are you trying to kill me?” Her voice is high-pitched and squeaky.
I cackle with laughter as I pull her close to me, kissing the top of her head as she tries to bat me away. “What did you think was in this box?”
“I thought you were about to ask me to marry you. I thought you’d gone completely insane. I was ready to pack up my shit and get out of town. You almost gave me a heart attack.” She’s rambling, clutching her hands over her heart.
I’m still laughing. Because it’s funny…but somewhere deep down, it kind of stings that the idea of being married to me spooks her out so much. “Just earrings, Sammie. Just earrings.” I hand the box to her.
Her expression settles as she examines the round-cut morganite studs encircled by a row of halo diamonds set in rose gold. “Wow, Keeland. These are really gorgeous,” she breathes.
I grin widely. I knew she’d like them. But…
“I can’t accept this.”
…I knew she’d say that, too. Hence the whole let-me-spook-her-the-fuck-out-by-pretending-to-propose thing.
“Yes, you can accept it. And you will because it’s not half as bad as an engagement ring, right?”
She laughs. “I guess you’re right.”
“You did awesome work for me.” And I love the fuck out of you. “You deserve this gift.”
I watch as she slowly comes to grips with the idea of accepting the earrings. “They’d look really nice with the dress I’m wearing tonight,” she says in a small, excited voice.
“Tonight?”
“Yeah. I’m going out with the girls,” she mumbles as she affectionately caresses the jewelry box. “A new bar just opened at Kennedy Square. The Opal Lounge. Tonight is ladies’ night.”
Jealousy and possessiveness rush up my chest so fast that I don’t have the time to stop them before they’re spilling out of my mouth. “Don’t go flirting with other guys while you’re wearing those,” I say sternly. “Don’t go flirting with other guys, period.”
She looks at me with stunned eyes and I know I’ve gone too far. Shit.
“Yes, sir,” she says as she eases out of her seat.
Her lack of defiance catches me completely off guard. I’d expected her to put up a fight, cut me down to size, take some grand feminist stand.
Instead, she comes up to me and wraps her arms around my neck, kissing lightly at the flesh just below my ear. “I guess I’ll only be hitting on girls tonight. Reyfield’s ladies are known to get adventurous after a couple of drinks.”
My cock turns solid in my pants. It’s her turn to wiggle her eyebrows at me, giggling as she slips out the door.