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I start the car, shift it intoReverse,and call Coleman. It rings a few times. When he doesn’t answer, I grunt, knowing he’s probably still getting Parker home safely. Heading toward my parents’, I hope Coleman calls me back before I get there.
It doesn’t take long, only seconds, for him to call me back. I’m not even on the interstate yet. “Could you not wait for my call?” he barks.
“I could wait, but this isn’t about that. Dad called. He wants us at the house.”
There is a moment of silence. He doesn’t say anything immediately. Instead, he growls as he drives. “What does he want?” Coleman snaps.
“Business is all I know, and it’s just us.”
“Only managers. This cannot be good.”
I agree. It can’t be. But we already got our asses handed to us over the way we handled shit earlier today. I can’t imagine that our dad would give us another tongue-lashing so soon. I inhale a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“Just meet me there.”
Ending the call, I drive straight toward my parents’ house. As soon as I pull into their circular drive, I’m not surprised to see that the only light on is in my father’s office. My mom has probably had her bath, her wine, and read a page or two of a book and is completely passed out.
Staying in my car, I wait for Coleman to pull up next to me, but while I wait, I search for Parker Nichols online. It only takes me a moment, a second, until her name pops up with her social media pages.
Clicking on Instagram, I smirk that the whole thing is public. She doesn’t have anything that really shows anything personal, though. There are artfully taken photos of coffee, books, skylines, sunsets, and sunrises.
She likes to read, and she enjoys pretty things. I can respect that, and it only makes her more intriguing to me. What she doesn’t have are photos of friends, expensive jewelry, clothes, or vacations.
Frowning, I begin to delve deeper into her world as I continue to wait for Coleman. Something pops up, deep in the recesses of the internet, several pages into my search. A newspaper article. It’s an archive, so it’s not recent, but I notice the names, and it causes me pause.
DALLAS INVESTOR HUSBAND AND HEIRESS WIFE SLAIN WHILE DAUGHTER ASLEEP IN BED.
PARKER AND MELANIE NICHOLS MURDERED IN THEIR BED WHILE SIX-YEAR-OLD DAUGHTER PARKER NICHOLS WAS ASLEEP JUST MERE FEET AWAY DOWN THE HALL.
Parker was named for her father, but that isn’t what catches my eye. Investor and heiress. Murdered in their beds. This sounds like it could very well be the family.
My heart begins to race as the implications of that, of this budding situationship with Parker, begin to grow. If she were to find out that the family had any ties to this, it could really fuck up the whole thing.
Maybe my mom was onto something when she wrote my dad’s name at the bottom of her notes. Holy fucking shit. This could be family related.
A knock on my window causes me to jump, and I look over to see Coleman’s smiling face staring at me from outside. Rolling my eyes, I open the door as he takes a step backward. I unfold from the car, clear my throat, and stand.
“She enjoys reading. She seems sweet. I’m not sure you should pursue this whole thing.”
“Pursue?” He arches a brow, but he doesn’t say anything. “I’m not pursuing shit. I am taking her.”
“Wells,” he murmurs.
Shaking my head once, I turn toward the house and start to move toward the door. I’m not sure what awaits us on the other side. Turning, I look back over my shoulder at my brother. “Don’t worry about me, brother. I don’t know what will become of me and Parker, but she intrigues me.”
PARKER
Stripping out of my dress,I kick my high heels off and head toward the shower. The house is silent, but I can still feel the music pulsing throughout my entire body. My blood feels like it’s pumping, my heart slamming with each beat.
I feel almost as if I’m high… if I knew what feeling high was like.
Reaching for the handle, I twist it to hot and wait for the shower to warm. It doesn’t take long. When I feel the steam in the room, I shift the water temperature to the middle of the dial and step under the spray as it cools off.
I close my eyes and let the water wash over my face, my hair, and down my entire body. As I do, I imagine that the water is the stranger’s hands. His fingers move over my body. I sink my teeth into my bottom lip and scrape the skin as my fingers slip between my thighs.
I don’t really do this often, but I can’t help myself. I’ve never felt this way before. I’ve never been so hot and bothered by anyone. Swirling my fingers around my clit, I whimper as the warmth of the water, the pressure of my fingertips consumes me.
My thighs tremble as I continue. It doesn’t take me long. Considering I’m the only person who has ever touched my body, I know exactly what I want and how I want it. Closing my eyes, I rest my back against the tile as I lift one foot and place it on the bench.
