I Flipping Love You (Shacking Up #3)(24)
Lawson punches me in the side and nabs the binoculars, but I get him in a headlock. He loses his hold on them and they hit the deck, bounce once, and then slide through the three-inch gap between the glass panel and the bottom of the deck, landing on the ground ten feet below us.
“You dumbass! Now how am I supposed to check them out?” He makes no move to find out if the binoculars survived. I’m pretty sure they’re broken based on the fall.
“You’re not. We don’t have time for you to cross twins off your bucket list this weekend. We’ve got an open house tomorrow.”
“Yeah, about that. I think we might want to reconsider selling.” He settles back in his chair.
“What? I put weeks into getting that place ready. What’s the point of holding onto it?” More than that, the financial gain from selling is far more substantial upfront than rental fees. I’m not currently pulling in a salary while I’m off. I have money in my bank account, lots actually, but part of the benefit of flipping the house is having more capital on hand to make new purchases.
Lawson lifts his sunglasses and gives me his chill out look. “Just hear me out before you shit a pile of bricks. I know originally we were planning to flip, but what if we could capitalize on the summer rental market?”
“We already have sixty-nine as a rental.” Law and his grand schemes. He always has one going.
“So what’s one more to take care of, just for the summer? It’s prime rental time. People want to be on the beach in the Hamptons. It’s a smart move.”
“I don’t know, Law. Aren’t you kind of screwing the agent out of a commission?”
“No. I actually got some insider info that the Franklin house is going up for sale this weekend and it’s right down the beach from sixty-nine. It’s a smart buy. The Franklin place is in decent shape; all we’d need to do is some minor renos to make it palatable for renters. Then we bank all the money we make this summer. So if the agent can get us in to see the Franklin house first, they’d still get the commission.”
“Is that possible?”
He shrugs. “I’ll call and see what she can do.”
I wait for him to pick up his phone, but he just sits there. “Don’t you think you should do that now?”
“It’s not a rush.”
“The open house is tomorrow. And we want to know if it’s a rumor or if it’s actually true that the property is coming up for sale.”
“Oh, it’s true. I stopped by the Franklins’ yesterday. Their granddaughter was over. We had a nice little chat.” He grins and wags his eyebrows.
“Christ, Law, where’s your damn moral compass?”
“Calm your tits, her granddaughter is twenty-three. She thinks I’m supersweet. Gave me all the details and made me promise not to say a word.”
I shake my head and push up out of the chair. “You should probably still call, especially if you want to get in there first and make an offer.” I leave him to it, annoyed at the abrupt change in plans. Working with Lawson is a lot like riding on a roller coaster. I’m willing to put up with it because I see the potential benefits of real estate and rentals. I’ve been working for my dad for five years and I like it less and less. Working with Lawson might not be easy, but I actually enjoy the renovation side of this, and the rental part hasn’t been difficult so far, so I can see the allure.
As much as I enjoy what I’m doing, I don’t like the idea of letting my father down, not when he’s worked so hard to give us this life. I don’t want to appear ungrateful for all I have, but I don’t want to spend the rest of my life doing something I hate either.
CHAPTER 8
JUST BEACHY
RIAN
At five thirty Marley decides she’s had enough of the volleyball boys, and we head back to the beach house.
She grabs my arm as she stumbles up the steps and flops down on the couch once we’re inside. “Oh wow, it’s so much cooler in here.”
“You should put on some after-sun lotion.” Neither of us is particularly fair, but she’s been out there for hours and I doubt she thought to reapply. I cross through to my bedroom and root around in my overnight bag for the aloe lotion. By the time I return, she’s relocated to her bed and she’s already passed out. I adjust her position so she’s on her side and put a garbage can beside her in case she can’t make it to the bathroom. I didn’t monitor her consumption, but she’s had far more to drink than me.
While she’s napping, I take a quick shower, throw on a pair of jeans and a loose shirt, and pull my hair up in a messy bun. An hour later she’s still fast asleep and my stomach is rumbling. I don’t want to wake her on the off chance she’ll get up ready to party.
Instead, I head down the beach toward the restaurants so I can grab us some food.
There are some nice restaurants along the beach, many of which boast a lovely view of the Mission Mansion in the distance. We’re still quite a ways off financially from being able to buy it if it went on the market, but we’re closer now than we’ve ever been to the one part of our past that I’d love to have back.
I glance at the patio to my left. Couples sit across from each other, hands clasped, wine glasses full, appetizers waiting to be shared, bodies angled toward each other as they engage in private conversation. It’s intimate and romantic, something I haven’t had in such a long time. It’s then I realize I’m back at the scene of my horrendous date with Terry and am once again staring at Pierce. Unless I had far too much sun. In which case, I’m having a hallucination and he’s not actually here.