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“We’ll go $819K, so twenty over asking.”
“Whoa, what? This is a bungalow, Lawson.” Pierce’s head whips around, as if this is news to him.
Lawson gives him a look. “Best offer, bro. Get with the program. We’ve got three minutes to make a move.”
“Fine, $819K, but you’re cutting into my reno budget with this.” Pierce looks annoyed. “Next time you don’t get to waffle until the eleventh hour.”
“I’ll call the seller. Hopefully your offer will offset your down-to-the-wire timing,” Marley grabs her phone.
“It’s on you if we don’t get this,” Pierce mutters to his brother.
I stand with my laptop propped on my hip, grateful for the opportunity to go inside and throw on a sundress so I can feel more business than beach babe. “I’ll get the paperwork together.”
The seller—the Franklins—pick up on the fourth ring, at 3:58 p.m. Talk about cutting it close. I prepare the paperwork and have Pierce and Lawson sign the documents so we can present the offer.
We spend the next two hours with the sellers. We priced it high and they’ve been offered well over asking, so the Franklins are thrilled.
By seven thirty the only thing we have left to do is make sure the financing is secure. We have to wait until Monday when the banks are open since Lawson and Pierce put in a cash offer, which speaks to their capital if they can fork over more than three quarters of a million in cash without lopping off body parts.
“We’re totally going out and getting hammered tonight!” Marley says as soon as she hangs up with Lawson, the proud new owner of a seriously outdated house in need of about forty thousand dollars in upgrades and renovations. I know. I did the math when we talked about putting it on the market and whether we could afford to buy it from the seller.
On the upside, the commission on this place puts us in the market for a flip once that money is in our account.
Marley’s right to want to celebrate. This is exactly what we’ve been working all these years for. We’re finally out of the crapper and on our way up. Not Mission Mansion up yet, but maybe one day. It’s a dream that feels far out of reach, but this is a step closer.
I jump into the shower and let Marley do my hair and makeup while we polish off the bottle of white wine left for Gel and Lauren, who are still uncertain as to whether or not they’ll be able to make the trip tomorrow since Noodles isn’t 100 percent symptom free. I even let Marley pick out my dress—it’s supertight with a plunging neckline and an ultrashort hem.
“I don’t know about this. I feel like I’m going to struggle to keep all my assets covered.” Every time I pull on the hem to cover more leg, I reveal more cleavage.
“Which is why it’s perfect.” Marley tosses me a pair of electric-purple heels. The dress is lawn green. I like bright colors, but this is a lot, and not enough at the same time.
“These are a bit much, aren’t they?” Does electric purple go with lawn green? I don’t know. I feel like I should be in a nineties’ music video.
“Nope. Put them on.” I’m already tipsy enough that I’m starting to think this outfit is a great idea and that my butt looks fantastic.
I stuff my identification, credit card, lipstick, and phone into my tiny clutch.
As soon as I close my purse my phone vibrates. I’ve already messaged Pierce, letting him know that Marley and I are going out to celebrate. If I happen to run into him, I’m not opposed to a little celebration of the orgasm variety.
I’m two drinks and two shots into my night and currently leaning on the railing on the perimeter of the dance floor, keeping an eye on my sister—there are at least two different groups of guys head bopping within a three-foot radius of her. I’m sure they’re all playing rock, paper, scissors to see who gets to take her home at the end of the night. It’s happened before.
A hand settles on my hip and I turn with the intention of telling whoever it is to back off, but when I look up, I get an eyeful of Pierce’s perfect face.
He leans down, cheek brushing mine, lips touching my ear. “You know, it would’ve been a lot easier to find you if you’d been more specific about where you’d be celebrating tonight.”
“There aren’t that many bars down here. I was pretty sure you’d be able to figure it out without too much trouble.”
Pierce chuckles and laces his fingers with mine. “Come on.”
I glance at Marley, who gives me a thumbs-up and then goes back to grinding her butt against some random on the dance floor as Pierce tugs me toward the outdoor patio.
It’s a little quieter out here, the music not so throbbingly loud.
Pierce maneuvers us through the impatient crowd until we’re at the bar. He cages me with his arms from behind, his chest pressed against my back, protecting me from the throng of bodies three deep behind us. The bartender seems to know him personally, so we’re able to secure drinks quickly—I opt for water this time, aware I’m tipsy and already planning to make questionable decisions where this man is concerned tonight. I don’t need every last one of my inhibitions gone.
Drinks in hand, Pierce links our fingers again, leading me through the crowd to a secluded corner on the patio.
He clinks his beer against my water bottle. “Congratulations on the sale.”
“Congratulations on the buy.” I take a long swig from the bottle, unsure where we’re going from here.
He leans against the railing, apparently getting comfortable. “Why didn’t you tell me you were in real estate last night?”
“Marley does more of the selling and networking. I’m the numbers girl.”
“And why is that?” He tips his head, observing me in a way that makes me nervous.
“She’s better with people than I am.”
“Says who?” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.
I shrug and look away. “It’s the way it is with us. She likes the limelight and I like behind the scenes.”
“That’s interesting, considering the dress you’re currently wearing.”
I’m suddenly hyperaware of the way Pierce is looking at me; as if I’m something he’d like to devour. A trickle of sweat works its way down my spine, and the cool breeze from the water makes me shiver. “It’s Marley’s.”
“Why am I not surprised? I’m on the fence about whether or not I’d like to thank her for all the attention you’re drawing in this. I thought I might have to throw a couple of punches with the way all the guys in there were looking at you.”
“No one was looking at me.”
“You’re adorably oblivious, you know that?” He moves in closer, angling himself so he almost acts as a shield, blocking me from the other people in the bar.
“Oblivious?”
“Yes. Oblivious. You’re too busy worrying about what your sister’s getting up to to notice all the attention you get.”
Marley has always been the brightest star with the biggest personality, and I’ve always been in the background. Beyond that, after the family scandal a decade ago, it was better to be a wallflower than to stand out, like I am now in this ostentatious dress. “Someone has to take care of her and keep her out of trouble.”
“And what about you? Who takes care of you, Rian?” Although the question seems innocent, it’s far more loaded than he can understand or imagine.
