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Besides, it would be unethical to postpone a sale for our personal gain. I owe it to Muriel to get her the best deal possible, and if I’m being honest, it wouldn’t be Marley and me. Either way, we’ll end up with a sweet commission, and Muriel has already found a new place in Texas, so we’ve scheduled an open house. I may have accidentally failed to mention it to Pierce. Not that it matters. He has Muriel eating out of his palm, so I’m sure, despite my request that she keeps the open house date between us until we’re ready to announce, he’ll have managed to sweet talk the information out of her.
On the morning of the open house I get up extra early and review all the important details, making sure the property specs look good. Rental furniture was delivered and set up yesterday. My plan is to head over around eleven and bake some sugar cookies so the place smells fantastic for the open house.
I drink coffee and hum to the music blasting through my ear buds as I prepare the cookie dough. Cookies and open houses are always a winner. I add cinnamon, because it’s proven to make people feel more at home.
I’m in a fantastic mood when Marley and I get in the car, cookie dough already rolled out and dropped on sheets, so all I have to do is turn on the oven and wait for it to heat.
My sunshine and rainbow mood takes a sharp right turn into what-the-frack land when we arrive at Muriel’s. The incredible, cost-effective landscaping, thanks again to one of Pierce’s contacts, no longer looks fantastic.
“Freaking Pierce,” I growl, throwing the car into park.
Marley frowns as she gets out of the car, and we walk down the freshly laid stone walkway. “What the shit is going on?”
“Son of a B!” I pull my phone out of my purse, find his contact and hit dial.
The smugness in his tone is unmistakable. “Hey, baby, how’s it—”
I cut him off before he can finish, surveying the yard. There have to be more than a hundred of those hideous garden gnomes decorating the lawn. “I hope you’re proud of yourself.”
“I was being helpful. Don’t you think it’s gnomey?”
I grit my teeth as he laughs. “Enjoy the feel of your hand this weekend, because that’s all the action you’re going to see.”
“Oh, come on, Rian, have a sense of—”
I hang up on him and shove my phone back into my purse, even as it starts ringing again. “When the heck did he have time to do this?” I was here last night.
Marley takes several pictures, snickering.
I prop my fists on my hips. “Why are you laughing? We have to clean this mess up!”
“It’s kinda funny. I mean check it out”—she points to a cluster of gnomes—“those ones are having an orgy.”
I throw my hands in the air. “Oh for frack’s sake.”
I spend the next hour tossing Pierce’s perverted garden gnomes into the trunk of our car. I definitely plan to get him back for this, with more than vagina-gate. These gnomes are going to find their way back to him, one way or another.
Marley only has enough time to get one batch of cookies made before the open house begins—thanks to the pervy gnome issue. I’m a sweaty, disgusting mess, and I’m forced to blot myself with wet paper towels and use a hairdryer on cold to dry my sweaty armpits. I am less than impressed.
And of course, Pierce and Lawson are the first people to walk through the door as soon as the open house begins. I hate that I tingle at the sight of him in a button-down shirt and tie. He’s wearing light-gray dress pants that conform to his magical, muscular butt. That I’d like to slap in a non-pleasurable way.
Thankfully, three other couples are right on their heels, allowing me to ignore his fine, jerkface butt. Eventually he gives up on trying to talk to me, although to be fair, I’m engaged with other, potentially serious buyers. The listing price is on the high side, as we’re aware that we can get top dollar for this place since there’s nothing comparable on the market. Also, Pierce and Lawson are so hungry for property, they’ll pay whatever they need to own this place.
By the end of the showing we have three offers, all of them for asking or above. Of course, the highest is from Pierce and Lawson, which is the one Muriel decides to take. Despite the shared commission, on account of Lawson’s new agent, we’re still coming out with a significant amount of money, all of which will help with our next flip. It’s after six by the time we finally leave, the SOLD sign a red beacon of success. This place might not be ours to flip, but whatever comes on the market next could be, so it’s a positive no matter what.
My phone has been going off constantly all day from the confines of my purse. I know it’s Pierce. I don’t bother to read his messages. I just fire off one of my own.
Rian: You’re on a timeout. Marley and I are having a girls’ night—no penis allowed, especially not yours. I’m sure Trip will appreciate not sleeping on the floor tonight.
I get a response which I don’t check. Instead, I turn to Marley. “Let’s go grab a bite to eat, then we can go home, get changed, and have a night out.”
Marley blinks a few times. “Excuse me?”
“To celebrate the sale.”
“You’re not celebrating with Pierce’s peen?”
“Umm, did you miss the pervy garden gnomes this morning?”
“I didn’t think you were serious about the whole ‘his hand being the only action he’s going to get’ thing.”
“Serious as a heart attack.”
Marley grins. “Awesome! Girls’ night!”
I pull a U-turn, heading toward the restaurants, and the gnomes clunk around in the trunk.
“What do you want to do with those?” she asks.
“Oh, don’t you worry. I have a plan.”
We go out for dinner—a nice one at the kind of place Pierce would take me. Before we make a stop at home, we drive by one of Pierce and Lawson’s rentals, which is vacant until tomorrow morning. I know the entry code, having slept there on several occasions. It takes more than an hour to set up all the gnomes, but it’s totally worth the effort.
Afterward we get bar ready. I let Marley pick my outfit—which is skimpy and revealing. For the first time in what seems like forever, Marley and I have a night out with just us. We avoid the beach bars in lieu of something closer to home; that way we don’t have to drive, and there’s less chance of running into Pierce and allowing him to sway me with the peen and apologies.
The cab drops us off at home at three in the morning. I’m hammered. Marley always thinks shots are a good idea. After the first one they’re generally not.
I stop halfway up the front walk when I see Pierce sitting on the front stoop, elbows propped on his knees.
“What’re you doing here?” I’m slurry.
“Waiting for you.”
“I’mma go drink water and pass out. You two lovebirds sort your stuff out, but no domestics on the front lawn.” Marley weaves around Pierce, punches in the code, and clomps up the stairs to our apartment.
“I’m going up too.” I make a move to get around him—I really need the bathroom, but Pierce jumps up to stop me.
“I’ve been trying to get in touch with you since yesterday afternoon. You can’t seriously be this mad about the gnomes.”
I give him the eyebrow. “That was a jerk move.”
“It was funny.”
