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It’s fun. And normal. And coupley. It worries me how much I like it, and my guilt over my almost truth eats at me even more.
Afterward we go for lunch at a little bistro. He doesn’t seem to care that he’s dressed for construction among a bunch of suit-wearing business people. Pierce refuses to let me pay my share. I want to be appreciative of the gesture, but it reinforces what I’m struggling to come to terms with—that I’m invested in this man for reasons beyond his stellar bedroom skills.
Getting involved with someone who can afford luxury is scary. It’s too close to what I’ve had before and what I never expect to have again. Until now, it’s been easy. Takeout and sex in half-renovated houses or rentals don’t lean toward any kind of permanence. But this—expensive meals and shopping trips where I watch him drop five grand without batting an eye—is something else entirely.
Beyond the material luxury, getting emotionally involved is downright terrifying. I don’t want to get used to indulgences, even little ones, like this lunch. And I don’t want to get too comfortable with him, too close, because it puts me at risk, and Marley, and everything we’ve worked for. If he digs, he’ll find out who we really are. He’s only a few well-worded searches on the internet from being able to uncover our whole sordid family history, and then what? Maybe he won’t care. But if he told his brother … I don’t know Lawson well enough to say for certain that he wouldn’t use that information against us. If we’re connected to our parents, it could obliterate our career in real estate. We’ve built ourselves up from almost nothing. I don’t want to jeopardize that because I’m hot over some guy who isn’t going to stick around anyway.
Pierce drags his fingertips along the back of my hand. “Everything okay?”
“I could’ve paid for my meal.”
His lips press into a line. “I came over unannounced and coerced to you into shopping for purely selfish reasons, me paying for lunch is not unreasonable.”
“You paid for takeout the other night.” This is a stupid thing to be worked up about, but I’m struggling a little with how much this feels like a relationship. This is usually the point where I walk away, but in this case, I don’t want to since it’s going to be over soon enough anyway.
“And I invited you over then, as well.” He taps the table with long fingers. “What about me paying for lunch bothers you, Rian?”
“I like equality.”
“Oh.” He relaxes back in his seat. “Okay. I suppose I can understand that. Sometimes my sister likes to buy dinner even though I make four times what she does. Although she is marrying a man with more money than God, so I don’t usually feel too bad about it.”
“That guy with the sleeve?” I motion to my arm. “What is he, some kind of mobster? I’d say MMA fighter since he’s a tank and all, but his face is way too pretty and intact for someone to be beating on it regularly.”
Pierce laughs. “Lex would probably get a kick out of that. He’s actually—” He’s cut off by his phone ringing. He flips it over and frowns at the screen. “Sorry. I have to take this.”
“Sure. I need to use the bathroom anyway. I’ll meet you out by the truck?”
“Perfect.” He brings the phone to his ear. “Hold please.”
Leaning in, he kisses me on the cheek and passes me his keys. “Thank you. I won’t be long.” He turns his attention back to his call and heads toward the door. “This better be important. I was in the middle of a lunch date.”
I gather my purse and use the bathroom, taking my time before I head to the truck. Pierce is already leaning against it upon my return, arms crossed over his chest, eyes on his phone, expression somber.
“Everything okay?”
He glances up and his hard expression melts into a soft smile. “Debatable.” He doesn’t elaborate, instead he opens the door for me, his hands on my hips as I step onto the running board. I don’t need his assistance, but I certainly don’t mind it.
Once he’s in the truck, he taps the steering wheel. “So I have to go to the city this afternoon, and I’m not sure how long I’ll be there, which means we’ll have to cut our day short and possibly reschedule our date.”
The last time he was in the city he ran into his ex and then drunk texted me. “Is it lawyery stuff?”
“It is. It’s more of a pain in the ass than anything. Can we figure something out when I come back? I don’t think I’ll be gone more than a couple of days.”
“Sure. Whatever works.” I don’t want to sound too disappointed, even though I am. I like spending time with Pierce, in a bed, out of a bed, eating food, talking. I like him. Which is why it should be a good thing he has to cancel.
“I’m really sorry, Rian. If it’s any consolation, I’d rather be with you than in Manhattan, dealing with lawyery bullshit.”
“I’d rather be under you than having you deal with lawyery stuff too.” A reminder to myself that I need to keep this light, not serious.
“I’m taking a rain check on that. As soon as I’m back. You and me. Sleepover. Lots of sex. Extra cuddles so I can sniff your hair without you getting weirded out.”
CHAPTER 24
GNOME SWEET GNOME
RIAN
The weeks that follow become increasingly busy with the summer rush. Open houses eat weekend afternoons, and house showings consume evenings. In between it all, I’m in charge of overseeing the renovations for the Paulsons’ beach house because I’m the one who pays attention to details and managing the costs.
My busy days are making it difficult for Pierce to reschedule an actual date. However, we still find time to see each other. Pierce makes himself available on a regular basis, stopping by the beach house to help with little things, which often results in quickies on dusty surfaces. I try to keep it casual, as it’s supposed to be, but he’s so sweet, and fun, and helpful, and all around amazing, so it’s difficult not to get attached.
Usually I wind up back at whatever house Pierce is working on—they’ve purchased yet another property since we bought the Paulsons’ and obviously we were not the realtors—eating takeout on the couch. I even started packing an overnight bag with extra clothes and leaving it in my car for such occasions, since they’re rather frequent. We talk houses and renovations and sex it up like teenagers.
He doesn’t ask any direct questions about my parents again, and I don’t bring it up. Sometimes he makes comments about his own family, as if he’s waiting for me to take the bait, but I never do.
Last night I slept in my own bed for once, alone since Pierce had to make another trip into the city. I actually missed Pierce’s overly warm body and his breath tickling my neck. I even missed Trip trying to edge his way between us. Which tells me the space is necessary.
After weeks of making cookies and watching Pierce strut around in his lime-green Speedo—it’s become a weekly occurrence—Muriel is finally putting her house on the market.
If Marley and I were closer to being finished with our renovations on the Paulson house, purchasing Muriel’s place might be an option, but we don’t have the capital necessary to finance it. We’d hoped to have our own flip finished before Muriel’s home went on the market, but there’s been a delay in getting the plumber in. Coincidentally, the plumber is one of Pierce’s contacts. As ludicrous as it sounds, I do wonder if the delay was intentional. However, interestingly enough, his awesome paving guys were available without a problem, so the driveway looks amazing. If I had to guess, I doubt he’s sabotaging things, and it’s just my paranoia that’s the problem.
