Page 58 of Big Dick Energy

I stayed quiet, sensing she needed to get this out.

“When I started making money, real money, the first thing I did was buy my parents a house.” She moved to the breakfast bar, running her fingers along the worn wood. “Nothing crazy. Just a nice place in a good neighborhood where my dad could finally have a garage for his tools, and my mom could plant a garden.”

“That's...” I searched for the right word. “Really incredible.”

“Then my sister decided she wanted to be a doctor.” A smile tugged at her lips. “She's brilliant, but med school isn't cheap, and I wasn't about to let her drown in student loans for the next thirty years. So I pay for it. The rest goes back into the business, into my employees, into charities.” She shrugged. “I don't need a mansion. I don't want a mansion. I just need a place that feels like home.”

I looked around the loft with new eyes, seeing it differently now.

“You're not what I expected,” I said quietly.

“Is that a compliment or an insult? I genuinely can't tell with you.”

“Compliment.” I met her eyes, and for once, I wasn't hiding behind sarcasm. “Definitely a compliment.”

I cleared my throat. “So, this is where the magic happens? The fashion empire headquarters?”

“This is it.” She gestured vaguely. “This building is my whole operation. Business below, living above, and one of my offices is up here.”

“Very you,” I observed.

I glanced around, noticing the absence of any furry creatures. “Where's the dog?” I asked. “And the foster cat?”

“Ricky and Karen are at my friend Skyla’s place,” Davina said, moving toward the kitchen. “She watched them while I was in Vegas. I'll pick them up later once we get settled.”

“Ah.” I nodded, oddly disappointed. “So I get a grace period before the real interrogation begins.”

“Ricky's going to hate you,” she said cheerfully, grabbing a glass from the cabinet. “Fair warning. He hates everyone at first.”

“Can't wait to meet him.”

While she headed toward her bedroom to start packing, I wandered the living space, drawn to the gallery wall I'd noticed earlier. Photos covered the walls, some framed, some just pinned up with pushpins, creating a collage of moments that told the story of her life.

In every single photo, she looked alive.

There were photos with people too. An older couple, probably her parents. A childhood photo of her with a younger girl, who was probably her sister. Brooke was in at least a dozen shots spanning what looked like years of friendship.

“Snooping?”

I turned to find her leaning against the bedroom doorframe, arms crossed, but her expression was more curious than annoyed.

“Observing,” I corrected.

She walked over to stand beside me, close enough that I could smell her shampoo.

“That's Morocco,” she said, pointing to a photo of her in a marketplace. “I went for a fashion sourcing trip and ended up staying three weeks. The food was incredible.”

“You've been everywhere.”

“Not everywhere. But a lot of places.” She touched a photo of herself, her expression wistful. “I promised myself when I was a kid, eating dinner at a soup kitchen, that one day I'd see the world.”

“And you're doing it.”

“I'm trying.” She turned to look at me, bumping her shoulder against my arm, a casual touch that sent electricity skating across my skin. “Now help me pack. I need to grab enough clothes for six months minimum.”

“That's going to be a lot of trips up and down that elevator.”

“Good thing I married a man with muscles.” She headed back to the bedroom. “There are boxes in the hall closet. I'll need a few for shoes alone.”