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It’s like I’m suddenly an idiot. If I follow after him now, I’ll look even weirder. But I can’t hang out here and do nothing.
I hear him rolling the suitcase on the wood-floor landing above me and call out to him, “Want some pizza?”
He stops and yells down. “Sure, but only if you get me something with meat on it. I know your pizza will look like a veggie patch.”
I laugh, then shout, “What about murder?”
“What about it?” His voice sounds closer, like he’s leaning over the second-floor railing and talking down to me.
I back up until I see he’s doing just that. Our eyes connect. “There’s a Dateline marathon tonight. Mind if I watch a few episodes while we eat? One is about a stripper,” I add to entice him. “But I can always watch it in my room.”
He cocks a brow. “Murder sounds good. Feel free to reenact any of the scenes where she dances. I’ll take notes.”
I shake my head and turn away to hide my flaming-hot blush. He’s such a flirt.
His steps continue up the stairs, growing more distant.
I focus on the room before me, the flat screen above the sleek stone fireplace and the large sectional, imagining scenarios I shouldn’t. Like me doing a striptease for Easton while he lounges on the couch, watching me. I’ve never stripped for anyone before. Now wouldn’t be a good time to start, especially for someone like Easton.
I whip out my phone and order pizza like a good girl.
Chapter 12
Easton
I end my call with the executives from the bourbon company. I’ve been talking with them for three months now, and I’m ready to close the deal. The last part is getting Daire to agree to the partnership. Pecan bourbon brought to you by Livingston Pecan Farm. We’ve never branched into the liquor industry. I also have the CEO interested in collaborating on a Pecan liqueur.
This will be my baby. I’ll run this division and become the worthy partner Dad and Daire have always wanted me to be. I’m excited about it, too. This will be a new profitable venture for the farm if Daire sees what I see.
I check the time. 11:00 a.m. I’m taking the helicopter to Atlanta to get a case of the bourbon. I’ve sampled it several times. It’s delicious. Today, I get to see the bottle logo. I approved the prototype but haven’t seen the finished product.
With my laptop, I head downstairs. Sadie hasn’t emerged from her room. She was up late binging murder. I went down around 2:00 a.m. and found her passed out on the couch.
Her hair fell in maple waves behind her while she lay on her side, her face smooshed in a throw pillow. She wore an oversized sweater with one shoulder exposed and tiny boxers decorated with the words ID ME in red letters. Only Sadie would have ID network pajamas. Her furry socks covered her little feet, but her tanned legs were on full display and the way they were bent at the knees showed off her round butt cheeks. So much smooth skin to touch. I bit my knuckles to stifle a groan—actually bit my knuckles.
These two weeks might be the death of me.
Assuming she was curled up because she was cold, I covered her with a fur blanket. The action woke her. She sat up with her hair plastered to her face on one side. Those tired eyes and that bare shoulder made her look even more desirable. Her lips curved with the cutest sleepy grin. When she stood, she was wobbly. It brought back memories of me holding her and dressing her while she was naked. My dick rose to the occasion in my cotton pajama pants.
I ignored it, and thankfully, Sadie didn’t notice my bulge. I asked if she wanted me to help her to her bedroom. She nodded and put one arm around my bare back. It was like leading a drunken patron from a bar. Before we reached the stairs, I asked her to forgive me and scooped her up into my arms. She weighed nothing. Other than letting out a small squeal, she didn’t object. It was easier to get her up the two flights of stairs and faster if I carried her. I didn’t expect her to rest her head and hand on my chest or for her to breathe in and tell me I smell amazing.
I also didn’t expect her to rub my pec and tell me my body belongs on a romance book cover.
My skin burned so hot from where she touched me, I practically ran from her room once I got her in the bed. I went back to my room, masturbated to my last sex partner, a tall blonde—the opposite of Sadie—and went to bed, still feeling uptight. I know why. I didn’t masturbate to Sadie. That’s who my mind and body want. But that would make it even harder to leave her alone.
Tonight, I think I’ll head out and screw a regular local girl. I’m not a fan of seconds because it gives women the wrong idea. They think I’m back for more of them and a meaningful relationship. Delaney isn’t like that. She’s bi-sexual, but she doesn’t date men. She only has sex with them. I’ve slept with her a few times. If she’s not in a relationship with a woman, she’ll be good to go.
I text Sadie that I’m leaving and will be back later. Later could mean this afternoon or tonight.
In the garage, I pass my motorcycle. Dad’s a BMW fan and got Daire and me each a BMW of our choice once we had our college degree. Daire chose an M8. I picked a BMW sports bike. I also have my car from high school graduation. The M4 is a sick fluorescent yellow that still makes me grin when I see it.
I get into the M4 and head for the helicopter pad Daire had built on some unused land at the farm.
* * *
I finish my meeting in Atlanta and get the cases of liquor to bring home. Sadie hasn’t texted me all day. It’s only been about three hours, but I’m worried. Why wouldn’t she text me that she got my text? Or to have a good day? Or something?
Before I get in the helicopter, I text her.
