AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Simon stepped out and adjusted his tie, looking at his reflection in the side mirror. Whether conceded or hoping to make a good impression, the simple gesture made me grin as I slipped on my heels and set the alarm before opening the front door and lifting my arm in greeting. He jerked his head toward me when the door opened and crossed his arms over his chest. His lips were pressed together as he skulked around to the passenger door, opening it but standing in front so I couldn’t get in.
“I’d have come to the door,” he said, his mouth barely forming the words as he hissed out the syllables. His hands dropped by his side, but his fists stayed clenched, and I rolled my eyes at whatever had crawled up his ass.
“Why are you irritated? I could have figured out what car’s yours through the process of elimination, you know?” I said, waving my hand around the empty parking lot. Simon tugged on his Windsor knot, yanked his sunglasses off, and leaned forward. I slung my bag over my shoulder and put my hands on my hips, watching the gray storm clouds swirl in his eyes.
“It’s a matter of respect. I would never just sit in the car and wait for you.”
“Well, this isn’t a date. And now it’s a matter of my toes going numb, so would you move, please?” I stressed the please and wiggled one foot, sticking my arm out for balance.
“Why are you dressed like that if you’d be cold?” he said, gesturing to my sleeveless top and peep-toe pumps. He, of all people, should know fashion didn’t care if it was chilly outside.
“It’s not cold inside, Dad,” I said, rolling my eyes again and trying to push past him and into the front seat. He grabbed my bag, finally letting me by, before placing it in the back and closing the door. I tracked him as he walked confidently around the front of the car, his eyes never meeting mine until he opened the driver’s side door and folded himself into the seat.
The deep leather seat, predictability black, molded to my body and felt like butter as I got comfortable, still looking at him as best I could through my peripheral vision.
His sedan started with a growl, and he motioned to two drinks in the cup holders. “Chai tea or double mocha espresso with milk. Pick one.”
I looked between the drinks and him, the confusion clear because I’d never met anyone who looked more inconvenienced about being thoughtful. My butt got warmer the longer I stared, and I squirmed as Simon pulled onto Palmetto Highway, heading toward Seabrook Island. Familiar classical music played from his speakers, nothing I could place, but it reminded me of piano concerts I attended years ago.
“It’s not rocket science, you know. Here, have lemon pound cake while you decide. It’s my Nana’s recipe, and the last two pieces left from my visit yesterday.” He opened the center console and took out two Ziplock bags, passing them both over. “I didn’t know how you felt about vanilla icing, so I ate it off one piece. With a fork and knife,” he added, probably because I looked at him like he licked off the icing before handing me the cake. “And quit wiggling. Turn down the seat warmer if your ass is too hot.”
He shook his head and turned a dial under the stereo before eyeing the cup holders again. I could see his eyebrows raise over the ridiculously large sunglasses frames he chose today, and I sighed loud enough for him to hear over the music and opened the bag without the icing. I opened the other bag and set it between his legs, grinning when his thigh twitched as my hand brushed against it.
“This was thoughtful, Simon. Thank you,” I said around a bite of the cake.
“Uh-huh,” he said, handing me the espresso. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going, or should I guess?”
“If I tell you, will all this playful banter stop?”
His expression remained aloof, or what I thought was aloof, behind those stupid-ass sunglasses. He side-eyed me and reached down for the chai latte, bringing it to his mouth and grimacing with the taste. He pursed his lips, putting it down to break off a large piece of cake and shoving it in his mouth like he was trying to rid himself of the taste of the latte.
“You should have taken the espresso. Here,” I said, passing it over. He held the cup to his eyes, then pushed it back, shaking his head. The cup looked normal, except for a pink lipstick stain around the rim. “Ugh, my lipstick, seriously? You could do with a little color, Simon. Other than whatever pocket square you’re hiding under your jacket.”
I wiped the lipstick off, ensuring I didn’t miss any before passing it back to him. “Here, all better.” He took a drink and tilted his head to the navigation system. “Oh, right.” I checked my phone and put in the address before taking another bite of cake.
We drove in comfortable silence for a while, but I noticed Simon had finished his cake in record time and kept eyeing mine like he wanted to snatch it out of my lap to devour. I broke off a piece and leaned over the center console, holding it to his lips. He opened his mouth and leaned forward, closing his lips around my fingers. I felt his tongue for a second before I removed my fingers, but it was long enough for me to see his cheeks stain pink.
Aha. There it is. He blushes the most delectable shade.
Was it wrong that I wanted to see if I could make other parts of his body the same shade? To see if I could make the anger he hides behind drop?
“Why are we driving out here on a Sunday?”
I shook my head, pushing the pink apples of his cheeks out of my mind and turning to watch the palmetto trees zip past us as he sped toward the island. He deserved a better explanation then, because my mother told me to, especially if I hoped to turn this conversation to him helping me.
“There’s a listing we’ve had for a while—a beautiful two-story house. I didn’t realize how special it was until I looked over the specs. It needs work, but the right buyer is out there. The owners wanted to leave it as is and drive the price up. You can’t do that in this market. They agreed to a small budget for improvements, and I need to see what I’m working with before pricing things out.”
“Tell me who the right buyer is.”
“Okay, let me think. Don’t miss the turn.” I pointed to the exit as Simon veered to the left and toward the island, making his way down a two-lane road. The property was on the far end of the island, but with its entirety stretching a few miles, we’d be there in a blink.
I unbuckled my seat belt, laying the rest of the pound cake in Simon’s lap and reached for my bag. I took out my tablet and found the specs and pictures, scrolling through them and thinking—an image formed in my mind, a faceless person with wavy details.
“I see what you mean about the driveway,” he said, winding around the oak trees and stopping in front of the detached garage.
“Right? It’s a unique property. I could see an older man here. Maybe his wife died several years ago and he wants to spend his retirement fishing off the dock with a place big enough for his children and grandchildren to stay. Or maybe an author with writer’s block looking for seclusion and privacy to write her next bestseller.”
I slipped off my heels and grabbed my flats from my bag as Simon got out and walked around to open my door. I stepped out, and he took off his black sports coat, holding it open for me.
