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Since the night at Skylar’s house two weeks back, she has taken up residence in every waking thought. That night, her response to my mouth, my touch… Skylar is a damn siren. A firestorm waiting for the wind to set her ablaze. And I want to watch her burn fiercely. Preferably beneath me. Above works too.
Much to the disagreement of my nearly constant erection, there is also no need to rush. Although she harnessed bravery like a sword in privacy, Skylar didn’t want to be the center of attention in public. Her banter and wit are adorable, but nonetheless a disguise. A way to shelter her bashful side from the masses. A method of protection.
I want more of her meekness, though. Something about her natural reservation turns me on. It is what had my eyes glued to her in the pub. What pushed me to pursue her.
“Proposal for the Hughes account should be ready tomorrow. Have you reached out to the Barron’s about updating their beneficiaries?” Terrance asks. “Heard another heir arrived last week.” A hint of sarcasm in his tone.
“Scheduled to call them in the morning,” I answer.
The Barrons—one of the original families in Stone Bay. Seven families the town put on a pedestal decades ago. Too bad not all those families are as respectable as they once were. Ego and greed change people. I learned this firsthand.
“Great. Keep us posted. What’s on your docket?” Terrance turns to Garrett.
“Touching base with the banks for more prospects.”
Strictly an investment firm, Stone Bay Financial didn’t handle the day-to-day finances of the townsfolk. We left that to the two small banks in town. Both offer savings options, but deposit certificates didn’t appeal to everyone. The banks also weren’t equipped to handle our clients’ wealth. Once a week, we visit the banks and talk prospects with the staff. For every new client we attain, we share the wealth (in the form of new accounts) with the office. Everyone wins.
“With summer right around the corner, I’m following up with clients who have vacation properties and investment homes. Updating assets while probing for new opportunities,” Terrance shares.
We jot down notes on yellow legal pads and review our individual talking points before the meeting ends.
“Anything else?” Garrett asks. Terrance and I shake our heads. “Great. Now on to the best part of the meeting.” He pins me with a stare. “What’s up with you?”
My brows pinch at the middle. “Not sure what you mean.”
“No offense, but I’ve never seen you happier. What changed?”
Garrett and Terrance are more than coworkers. More than people I talk business with. Over the years, we developed a solid friendship. A bond that rivals the one I share with my brother. In our line of business, trust matters. It is only natural for it to transfer to our personal lives too.
Although I trust Terrance and Garrett with my life, a voice in the back of my head says not to mention Skylar. Not yet.
It’s not embarrassment or the fear of judgment setting off warning bells. Something just isn’t right, and it has nothing to do with Skylar. The strange twist of instinct has me uneasy. On edge. If only I knew the reason why.
I ponder over a list of generic answers and pick the one that seems least obvious and questionable. “Things have just been great recently.” Garrett narrows his eyes for a beat. Skepticism written in the lines of his forehead. But I don’t cave under his inspection. An unfamiliar scrutiny. “Can’t I just be happy?” I add for good measure.
He leans back and relaxes in his chair, hands in prayer at his chin. Then he drops them to his side and smiles brightly. “Of course, man.” He sits straighter and rolls his chair back. “Just wondering if you finally ditched Kelli.”
Kelli.
My phone pings on the table and I flip it over to see a text notification. Kelli Langston. As if the queen of entitlement heard her name spoken. With a shake of my head, I roll my eyes.
Kelli: Have lunch with me.
My fingers dash over the keyboard, but before I hit send on not today, Kelli walks through the door as if meetings are above her. As if client confidentiality doesn’t apply when she is in the room.
How the hell did she know I was in here?
“Hey, guys. Hope I’m not interrupting.”
She plasters on her plastic smile while tucking a blonde lock behind her ear. We all know she gives two shits about interrupting people. Why? Kelli Langston is Stone Bay “royalty.” The youngest in the Langston family. One of the Stone Bay seven.
Physically attractive, Kelli turns heads no matter where she goes. During the town’s fall festival last year, she turned mine. Not that I hadn’t seen Kelli in town prior, but it had been the first time she noticed me. The chemistry between us had been undeniable the first few months.
Then something flipped.
She went from sweet and endearing to overtly possessive. Every time my phone chimed with a notification—email, text, call, social media—she hounded me with questions. Who it was. What they wanted. She wanted the passcode to my phone. To read through texts and emails. To monitor my calls.
Don’t get me wrong, I like a woman that knows what she wants and goes for it. But her demands to invade my privacy as well as the clients who reached out to me, that is when I drew the line. Broke things off with her.
