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"Hey, thank you. We'll do that. What's your name?" I asked, glancing at Lux.
She was listening to the conversation with mild curiosity, but she looked like she could use a nap.
"Tangerine Sanders, but you can call me Tange." She paused, glancing at Lux. "That's phalange with a T." She winked. "It's stupid, I know, but I was named after my great grandmother, so I’m keeping it." She laughed. "Y'all new around here?" She looked up at the ceiling. "Dear Lord, please say yes." She returned her gaze to Lux. "You're twenty-two or twenty-three?"
"Twenty-two," Lux said and leaned back in her chair.
Tange was a talker. Very southern. "I usually go home on the weekends to party with friends, but if y'all stay, then maybe we can do something together." She nodded hopefully.
"We're not sure yet. Just checking out a house. But if we do end up with the property, we'll let you know," I said, not wanting to let her down.
Tange's smile widened. "That'd be great fun. There aren't many people my age who live around here."
"It would be," I said, stifling a yawn. Seemed I could use a nap as well. Perhaps Lux and I could nap together. Just the thought of her and I in bed together made my cock shift in my pants. But then, Lux was probably sore. Even my limbs were heavy and aching from all the riding we'd done.
"Breakfast is on me. Consider it an I-hope-you-move-here and welcome-to-Key-West gift." She slapped down the ticket, showing it had a zero balance.
"Tange, thank you," Lux said, brightening at the sweet gesture.
"Yeah, this is so nice. We appreciate it," I added.
She waved away our words. "It's my pleasure. Take your time and have a good one," she said and moved on to another table.
"That was sweet," Lux said, picking at the rest of her croissant.
"Sure was." I held out my other hand for Lux. "Let's go find the real estate agent and have a look at the house I apparently own. You with me?"
"Definitely," she said and gave me a huge smile.
THIRTY
Beach House
LUX
We only hada few days before the ride back, and as this was my first official vacation, I planned to do as many touristy things as possible.
Rush left a tip, and we went off in search of the agent.
Only an hour later, we were standing outside a charming white boarded house. “It’s not massive, exactly,” I said. “But it’s beautiful.” On the other side of the house was the sea.
“So you own Rush Motorcycles.” The agent, Daniel Wilson, looked at us. We’d confused him when we’d turned up but quickly explained that we were the people who had called a few days back.
“Jensen Norton,” Rush indicated to himself.
I hadn’t forgotten his name was Jensen, and it was weird to hear him use it. Still, dirty thoughts about using that name while we fucked entered my mind, and I was immediately wet.
“Can you help us trace the paper trail? I want to know why my business name and bank account have been used.” He glanced at me with one eyebrow raised.
I shook my head and focused on the agent, who nodded.
“Sure, leave it with me,” he said. “Here’s the keys. As far as I know, this is the first time anyone has been to visit the place since its purchase. I’ll ring the office and get straight back to you.”
Rush took the keys, lips turned down at the corners. He hesitated instead of walking straight in, which was what I wanted to do. “I can’t believe Clint would do something under my nose like this. It’s got to be a mistake.” He didn’t sound convinced.
I gave his hand a squeeze. “I hope so, but let’s go and look while Mr. Wilson finds out what he can.”
“Alright.” Rush ground his teeth together. Put the key into the lock and turned the door handle.
