I Flipping Love You (Shacking Up #3)(6)

Once the old lady passes, and I’m sure I’m in the clear, I back the rest of the way out and give Rian a jaunty wave as I pass her car.

Her sister is right. I don’t need the money. In fact, if I wanted to, I could replace this Tesla with a brand new one. But that’s not really how I do things. Just because I have access to excessive funds, doesn’t mean I want to fritter them away on unnecessary toys. Well, more than the ones I already have. I secured three quotes for the repair to make sure my dealership wasn’t trying to scam me.

Regardless, it’s the principle that matters. Hitting someone else’s car in a parking lot and driving away is a shitty thing to do. And while I feel bad that Rian seems to be the one taking the heat for it, someone needs to assume ownership for the mistake.

Besides, it’ll give me an opportunity to talk to her again. And despite her prickly demeanor, or maybe because of it, I’m hoping it’s going to be her I deal with.





CHAPTER 3

NEGOTIATIONS





RIAN


“I seriously can’t believe you!” I keep a tight grip on the steering wheel so I don’t end up flailing, as my hands want to do when I’m agitated like this.

“That guy was a total asshole.” Marley slouches down in the passenger seat with her arms crossed over her chest like a petulant teenager. Which isn’t far from reality some days. It’s hard to believe she entered the world before I did, considering her lack of maturity in this current situation. Those three extra minutes of life haven’t made her any more aware of the repercussions of her actions.

“You hit his car! He had every right to be an a-hole.” I’m still going to perseverate on the cleavage comment, and maybe find a way to use that sexist remark to my advantage when it comes to managing paying for the paint job.

“He was parked way too close to me. It’s his own damn fault I hit his stupid, pretentious car.”

“Well, I guess you should’ve waited him out and told him about his subpar parking job instead of ruining his paint job. Like we can afford three thousand dollars in repairs right now!”

“We’ll have the money when we sell those two houses on the beach in a couple of weeks, and the trust comes due soon, so it’s not even really an issue.”

“The commission and the trust aren’t supposed to be for some guy’s paint job.”

“Well, he seems to like your rack. I say you use your boobs to get some kind of Tesla repair discount so we don’t have to use the commission money.” Marley pulls out her phone and taps away on the keypad.

“I’m not using my boobs to get a discount.” I’d like to say it’s odd that my sister and I often have the same train of thought, but it’s not. Being twins means that we frequently already know what the other one is thinking, or planning, before it happens. The more I think about it, the more I consider the validity of her suggestion, regardless of how abhorrent it seems.

She gives me her bitch brow. It’s the expression where she arches a brow evilly, with a knowing look. “Why the hell not? That asshole was hot, which are two of your favorite qualities in a man. And rich. He’s a rich, hot asshole. And he thinks you’re hot.”

“I do not like hot a-holes, and he does not think I’m hot.” The truth is, I have a very bad track record when it comes to dating attractive men; they always turn out to be grade-A jerkfaces. I hit the brakes when the light turns yellow and come to a stop before it changes to red. It annoys the person behind me, but I’m nothing if not a safe driver, unlike my sister.

“I saw the way he was checking you out. You need to capitalize on his hormonal impulses. Use it to get us out of having to pay for his scratched paint.”

“Are you suggesting I sleep with him so we don’t have to pay for the repairs?” I don’t know why I sound appalled. I shouldn’t be the least bit surprised that Marley has intimated this. It’s totally something she would consider.

“I didn’t say anything about sleeping with him, but I find it interesting that’s where your head went.”

“That’s what you were implying!”

“Actually, no, it wasn’t. I’m just saying he’s smokin’, and he clearly thinks you are too, so you can use that to cut our paint-scratch bill.”

“Well, if he thinks I’m hot, he thinks you’re hot. So maybe you should sleep with him.” I pull into the driveway of our duplex and come to a jerky stop.

“Not true. He doesn’t want to hump my rack; he wants to hump your rack.”

“Our racks are nearly identical, much like everything about us.”

“Again. Not true. I’m a B cup and you’re a C. You have way more curves and your butt was made for twerking.”

I glare at my sister. “Are you quite done?”

“Based on how angry you look, I’m going to say yes. It’s not an insult, Rian; it’s a compliment. I’m a stick with boobs. You actually have a shape.”

“Please stop.”

I’m more than a little annoyed by this whole situation. I’m also concerned about having to part with thousands of dollars for an unforeseen car repair. We have financial goals we need to meet in order to execute our plan, and this is going to cause a setback. I don’t like setbacks. Especially the financial kind. We’ve had more than our fair share of those over the past decade, and we’re finally getting our lives on track. I don’t want anything to mess that up, especially not an antagonistic suit.