I Flipping Love You (Shacking Up #3)(45)

We leave them to discuss it with the expectation that they’ll call before four in the afternoon with an offer, otherwise we’re going through with the open house the following day. Marley and I lounge on the deck, anxiously watching the minutes tick by as we wait.

Pierce calls at 3:39. Not Lawson. Pierce. And he calls my phone, not Marley’s.

“You still haven’t answered my text messages from this morning,” he says by way of greeting.

“Is this a social call or a business call?”

“Both.”

“It can’t be both. It has to be one or the other.”

“Why can’t it be both?”

“You have twenty minutes until your window of opportunity closes.”

“To get into your panties tonight?”

“Do you ever stop?”

“Not really.”

“I’m talking about putting an offer in on the house. Your time is running out. We can’t do social until we’re done doing business, and social doesn’t include getting into my panties, FYI.” Such a lie. Although it won’t be the mint-green ones I was wearing earlier, those are already in the laundry pile, courtesy of the effects of that kiss we shared.

“Okay. Let’s clear up the business first. We can talk about your panties later. We’re putting in an offer.”

“If you’re putting in an offer, you should be talking to Marley, not me.”

“I don’t want to talk to Marley. I want to talk to you.”

I sigh and put the phone on speaker, dropping it on the table between our loungers. “I draw up papers. Marley presents offers. You have to deal with both of us.”

“You know what would make this even easier?”

“If you dealt with Marley?”

“If we came over there and discussed it in person.” I roll my eyes at Marley, but before I can respond, Pierce says, “We’ll be there in less than ten.”

“You only have nineteen minutes left to make an offer. You better get your rear in gear.”

“Get the paperwork started.”

“Don’t tell me wh—”

The call cuts out.

I huff, annoyed. “It better be a good offer.”

Pierce and Lawson come sauntering up the stairs to the deck like they own the place—which they do—a few minutes later. Lawson is wearing board shorts and the same open, button-down shirt as before. Pierce is no longer wearing a dress shirt and tie. Now he’s sporting a pair of board shorts and he has a T-shirt slung over his shoulder, Trip on his heels.

“Let’s make a deal, ladies.” Lawson pulls up two deck chairs.

Pierce gives me a slow perusal. “I was expecting the pink bikini, but I think I might like this one even better.”

I’m wearing my yellow polka-dot bikini. It’s superfun and has a cute little tie right between my boobs, which is where Pierce’s gaze snags as he takes a seat beside his brother. Trip sits in front of Pierce, tongue lolling and tail wagging. He’s so freaking adorable. The dog, not the man. The man is gorgeous. And he knows it, based on the way he flexes his abs when I accidentally caress them with my eyes.

“Bottom line, gentlemen.” Marley slaps the arms of her chair, apparently unfazed by everyone’s half-dressed state, including her own. “You need to put your best offer on the table. If they don’t like it, they’re going to hold an open house tomorrow and you’ll be out of luck.”

Lawson slaps the arm of his chair. I can’t tell if he’s making fun of Marley or they have the same mannerisms. “We’ll go ten over asking.”

“This place will go into a bidding war. It’s the only house for sale on this end of the beach since you’re not selling yours anymore, and there’s nothing comparable in Hamptons Bay,” Marley counters. “Everyone who was expecting to come to your open house will now be at theirs. But if ten over is your best, Rian will prepare the paperwork.”

I’m already typing away on my laptop, pulling up the documents—which are set to go apart from the dollar amount because I knew they were going to put in an offer, it was just a matter of how close they planned to cut it.

“We’ll go $819K, so twenty over asking.”

“Whoa, what? This is a bungalow, Lawson.” Pierce’s head whips around, as if this is news to him.

Lawson gives him a look. “Best offer, bro. Get with the program. We’ve got three minutes to make a move.”

“Fine, $819K, but you’re cutting into my reno budget with this.” Pierce looks annoyed. “Next time you don’t get to waffle until the eleventh hour.”

“I’ll call the seller. Hopefully your offer will offset your down-to-the-wire timing,” Marley grabs her phone.

“It’s on you if we don’t get this,” Pierce mutters to his brother.

I stand with my laptop propped on my hip, grateful for the opportunity to go inside and throw on a sundress so I can feel more business than beach babe. “I’ll get the paperwork together.”

The seller—the Franklins—pick up on the fourth ring, at 3:58 p.m. Talk about cutting it close. I prepare the paperwork and have Pierce and Lawson sign the documents so we can present the offer.

We spend the next two hours with the sellers. We priced it high and they’ve been offered well over asking, so the Franklins are thrilled.