Final Offer (Dreamland Billionaires, #3)(24)
At least until you fucked things up for good.
I flip the picture over and trace the words she wrote on the back.
Get drunk on life, not alcohol.
Love,
Lana
She gave it to me as a parting gift that summer, and I have kept it ever since.
At first, it was the push I needed to stay sober. Any time I was tempted to drink, I’d pull out her message and stare at it until the demons left me alone. It helped me stay on track for a few years despite all the temptations surrounding me. But then I tore my ACL and lost my hockey career, making it easy to slip back into destructive habits.
Truth is, I lost more than my job that year. I lost myself. My life became a series of bad decisions as I tried to fix the gaping hole in my chest.
It took Grandpa’s accident to get me on the straight and narrow. But by the time I got on the right path, it was too late. The girl who promised me forever had her arms wrapped around someone else, and I…
I was too late.
10
CAL
My neck cranes as I take in all three stories of the lake house. In broad daylight, there is no way to hide the imperfections plaguing the home. The chipped paint and rotting wood siding doesn’t bode well, especially when paired with the tarp covering a majority of the roof. Most of the windows look outdated and their wood frames decrepit from old age. Vines crawl up the exterior walls, completely out of control as if they want to swallow the house whole.
Maybe that’s for the best.
The house is a wreck. In its current state, I’ll be lucky if I find a buyer willing to purchase the place.
All you need to do is find one person willing to take a chance. That’s all.
I release a tense breath before ringing the doorbell. It takes Lana a whole minute to answer the door, her eyes barely open and her hair a wreck as she steps out on to the porch wearing nothing but an oversized T-shirt that barely reaches her mid-thigh. The material falls loosely over her curves, accentuating the shape of her breasts.
Blood rushes through my body, directly toward the source of my newest problem. I wipe my face with my palm. “Please tell me you don’t make it a habit of opening doors dressed like that.”
“What’s wrong with my clothes?” She looks down.
“The fact that you’re barely wearing any.”
She crosses her arms, which only pushes her boobs up. “You’re the one showing up on a Saturday morning without an invitation.”
“I need the keys to the guesthouse.” My molars smash together.
“Oh.” Her lips press together. “Give me a second.” She disappears into the house before coming back a minute later with a key ring.
I reach to grab it, but she clutches it against her chest.
“Hold on.”
“What?”
“How long do you plan on staying?”
I grin. “Trying to get rid of me already?”
“No, although I’m sure the mice staying in the guesthouse will do that for me.”
“Mice?” My eyes widen.
“A whole family of them.” She has an extra special glint in her eyes.
I shrug like the idea of mice doesn’t repulse me. “No problem. Merlin will love the challenge.”
“Who’s Merlin?”
“My cat.”
Her head tips to the side. “You have a cat?”
“Surprised?”
“That you can take care of a living, breathing organism? Absolutely.” She delivers her venom-coated words with a vicious smile that does wonders for my dick. Blood flows directly to the source, making the front of my pants uncomfortably tight.
I reach for the keys again, but she clutches them in a tight fist.
“Wait.”
“Why? So you can insult me some more?”
She takes a deep breath. “I have one thing to ask of you.”
“What?” I quit tapping my foot.
“Don’t talk about selling the house when Cami is here.”
My forehead scrunches. “She doesn’t know?”
“Nope, and I plan on keeping it that way.” Her gaze drops toward her glossy red toenails.
What are you hiding, Lana?
“She’s going to find out eventually, especially when I’m packing stuff into boxes,” I press.
Her jaw ticks. “How I handle things with my daughter is none of your business.”
“Fine. I won’t tell Cami about the house. But if she asks me questions—”
She doesn’t bother letting me finish my sentence. “Deflect like you always do. It’s one of the few things you’re actually good at.”
“I seem to remember you thinking I was good at more than just that.” I fight my frown with a smile, although her words pierce at what little confidence I have left.
Her nostrils flare as her cheeks turn pink. She all but launches the keys directly at my face before slamming the door shut.
Totally worth it.
Lana is a filthy liar. I checked the guesthouse twice for any mice and didn’t find a single critter. The house is in far better condition than I thought it would be in after being abandoned for a few years. My grandfather built it for any visitors long after he moved in, so the modest 1,100-square-foot floor plan is more modern compared to the main house. With three bedrooms and its own private dock, it’s the perfect hideaway.