I Flipping Love You (Shacking Up #3)(38)
“We were. The seller lives down the beach. We’re going there.” She mutters profanity under her breath. The drive to the house is short, and we pass the bungalow we’re supposed to put on the market tomorrow, but we won’t have as good a gauge on asking price now. I signal right and pull into the driveway of a gorgeous two-story beachfront house with a beautifully manicured lawn and stunning gardens.
I have a strange sense of déjà vu as Marley wobbles unsteadily down the beautiful cobbled walkway. Maybe the seller wants to move into 105 and unload this place instead. I can only imagine what we’d get for this one, even though both properties on either side are a little rundown and out of date. This place is closer to the Mission Mansion, so it’s incredibly desirable.
Marley hits the doorbell and a soft chime tinkles from inside the house. When it doesn’t open two seconds later, she jabs it again.
I bat her hand away. “Don’t be antagonistic. We might be able to persuade him to change his mind.”
Marley gives me the side-eye, takes a deep breath, and nods. “Put your game face on,” she says as a shadow appears in the doorway and the lock turns.
A wide smile spreads across Marley’s face as the door swings open. Standing in the foyer is a surfer hippie. Well, maybe a wanna-be surf hippie. His shoulder-length, dark blond hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and his semi-overgrown beard is supposed to scream I don’t care, but it’s too clean around the edges for that. He’s wearing a pair of what looks like pajama pants and a button-down white shirt. Except it’s completely unbuttoned. He has a nipple ring. I’m 100 percent certain the necklace he’s wearing is woven out of hemp, and if someone asked him, he wrestled the shark who belongs to the tooth dangling from it. If I had to guess, he’s likely a fan of freeballing.
Marley steps into the foyer and leans forward, kissing him on his scruffy cheek with a loud mwah. “Lawson! It’s so lovely to see you again.”
He returns the embrace and the kiss on the cheek. “You sure about that? You sounded less than impressed not long ago.”
“Well, what did you expect when you cancel a showing with only hours’ notice and tell me you’re taking the house off the market?” She’s still smiling, but there’s both warning and bite in her tone.
“Don’t you worry, sunshine. I’m going to make it up to you twice over. I promise.” His gaze shifts over to me and his eyes go wide. “Uh. Am I seeing this right?”
Marley laughs and motions me inside. “This is my sister, Rian.”
He extends a hand. I’m surprised to see the nails are trimmed and cleaned. Actually, they look manicured. And I think his eyebrows might be shaped. What’s up with this guy?
His smile is suddenly a smirk, as I slip my hand into his. Then he blatantly peruses me. Like it’s the most obvious once-over ever. “Rian? That’s a unique name. I didn’t realize you and Marley were twins.”
“Fraternal, but yes. And it’s nice to meet you too, Lawson.” It’s a very non-surfer hippie name.
“Come on in and sit down, we can talk about my plan, and hopefully I can thaw those frosty auras the two of you are throwing off.”
Auras?
As we pass through the foyer and down the hall, I notice a doll by a closet door. There’s a tiny little hook beside it, and it looks like it’s hanging up a jacket. Weird.
“Lawson is the owner of this house, and 105.”
“We own a couple more, but yeah, that’s right.” He nods and calls out, “Hey, bro, the Realtors are here!”
“Coming!”
The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and goose bumps rise along my arms. I know that voice.
I’ve heard the word coming in that exact deep baritone. It’s been growled in my ear along with other words to form phrases such as Are you coming? It’s been taunted against my lips: I can feel you coming again and Ah, fuck, I’m coming. Flashes of last night strobe behind my lids with every rapid blink. Now that I’m no longer coming like a porn star on ecstasy, I’m wholly embarrassed by my horribly wanton display. This cannot be happening right now.
The thump of shoes hitting the stairs tells me it is, indeed, happening.
“Oh no.” I take a step back, toward the door in preparation to escape what will surely be a very awkward, embarrassing situation, but it’s too late.
Last night’s orgasm provider appears, and dear sweet Lord in heaven, he looks absolutely edible. His hair is perfectly styled, not a single strand out of place—which wasn’t how it looked last night when he left. I’d had my hands in it a lot, particularly when he’d gotten on his knees for me. I need to return that favor. Next time maybe … wait. No. We’re representing them as agents. This is bad, on so many levels. There should not be a next time. No matter how much my vagina wants there to be one. Or the rest of me.
My face must be the same shade as a stop sign, and there’s absolutely nothing I can do to avoid this epic train wreck. Pierce does not seem like the kind of guy to let something like this slide. Beyond the embarrassment, I recognize that this whole thing seems rather suspect.
“Oh shit,” Marley mutters.
I’m outside of Pierce’s line of view, hidden somewhat behind Marley and a pillar. He rolls the sleeve of his crisp white dress shirt—his is actually buttoned and he’s wearing a tie, it’s hot pink—and turns his attention away from his brother, who’s busy grinning like a fool, in our direction. That tie is like a flare signal, and I have to wonder if I’ve been set up by this guy, and what the damn purpose is if that’s the case.