Lowdown Dirty

by Holley Trent

  “Whatever you paid was too much. This is inconsiderate work.” She nodded her thanks for the plate he slipped in front of her and plucked up a grape.

  “Well, I didn’t pay him in carnal favors. Maybe that’s why.”

  “Looking at this, I’m not certain you paid me enough, Tim.”

  “Oh?” He ran the back of his hand down between her breasts and leaned in to whisper. “I could certainly add on an advance gratuity if you’d like.”

  She sucked in some air, and her heart beat loud enough for him to hear.

  He excited her. He could tell. He didn’t know yet if that were a good thing or a bad one. If she were too responsive, he might not be so willing to let one night be enough. It had to be because if she was as interesting as she seemed, he was screwed. He’d end up wanting her, and she’d be yet another woman who’d decide he wasn’t worth being kept.

  Reluctantly, he backed away and topped off her wine. “It’s not that bad, is it?”

  She let out a suspicious long exhalation and passed her hands over her flushed cheeks. “Uh. It…it depends on what you told him you wanted. What’d you tell him? And are you trying to get me drunk? You still have to drive me home, and I doubt you want to carry me out of here over your shoulder.”

  “Mm-hmm.” Anything to get her guard down, and maybe lower her inhibitions just a little. He had to make a decision about how much effort he was willing to expend. He already knew it’d be a long fucking time before he got her out of his mind once she left.

  She sighed and rolled the stem of the wineglass between her fingers as she studied the plans.

  “I told him I wanted a floor plan that was more family-friendly.”

  Because at the time, Tim had been committed to the idea of remarrying and having a couple more kids. Heidi had been a “one and done” kind of lady, and he’d compromised. He’d been thirty-eight when he’d had those plans made, though. Now he was forty-three. The kids probably weren’t going to happen.

  It didn’t hurt to fix the house, anyway.

  She just squinted at the plans and kept rolling the glass. “Good idea for resale in this market.”

  “I don’t have plans to sell any time soon, but I’d still like to upgrade. How would you fix it to accommodate for a couple of kids?”

  “Kids of what age?”

  “Little kids.”

  “Shit, you only have one full bathroom.”

  “Yep.”

  “I…” She looked up, shaking her head. “Tim, there’s no easy way to fix this. You could add a second story, and I don’t readily recommend that without surveying the ground beneath it. Your foundation is probably pretty new, but the earth beneath it is going to sink a lot with that much added weight. I think what I’d do is reconfigure what there and add a wing in this part, heading toward the water. I dunno.” She cringed and sucked some air through her teeth. “I’d need to sit down and plot something out based on where the support walls are. You’ll probably have to rerun all the wiring and central air ducts.”

  “I can afford it.”

  “I bet you can, Richie Rich.”

  “I work hard for my money. And besides, I don’t even have central air yet.”

  She drummed her fingers on the table and stared at him.

  “What?”

  “You sure you don’t just want to put a new house there?”

  “Shit, now you sound like the folks at Clay’s. I like my house, for the most part. I think if you stepped inside it, you’d understand why. You shouldn’t be so quick to throw things away just because they’re not new or because they need some work.”

  He didn’t mean to sound so fucking defensive—and he must have, judging by how she flinched—but he was sick of dealing with people he didn’t want to try to get close to things—and people—that were a little messy. Folks rarely learned anything when they looked for the easiest tasks and the easiest people to be around.

  “I don’t have a problem with repurposing things,” she said in a professional, placating tone. “I’m simply wondering if you’re martyring yourself in yet another way. We’re talking about a lot of work. You wouldn’t be able to live there while it was happening. You’d having missing exterior walls and parts of the roof gone.”

  “I’ll deal with it, even if I have to live with Clay, which is undesirable for a lot of reasons.”

  For a few long moments, she just stared. He was getting used to that from her, though. She was sorting him out. Trying to make sense of what he said. He didn’t want her to have any doubts, so he waited. He was good at waiting when he wanted to be, and he wanted her to be clear about how he operated.

  He didn’t play games, and he didn’t want her to, either.

  And then, all at once, some of the tension between the two of them dissipated. She made a playful clucking sound with her tongue and shook her head at the architectural plans. “Duly noted.”

  “So, you’ll come take a look at it and let me know what you think?” He picked up a bit of cheese and popped it into his mouth. “I’d like to get work underway sooner than later. I’ll make it worth your while.”

  Her lips quirked up at one corner as she dragged her index finger around the rim of her glass. “Unlimited carnal favors paid under the table, you mean.”

  “Under, over. Wherever you want ’em. You’d have to tell Uncle Sam if I paid you in cash, but fucks are tax-free.”

  “You’re a mess. You know that?”

  “Mm-hmm. So messy.”

  Do you care?

  “Do you come on this strong with every woman you meet at your brother’s place, or am I special case because I possess a certain professional profile?”

  “You’re definitely a special case.”

  Professional accomplishments aside, she definitely fit a particular profile he liked—the type of woman who’d very sweetly take to her knees for him should he ask a certain way. He was tempted to ask, just to see what would happen, but he resisted. If he got her there, he might want to put her through her paces, and he didn’t do that anymore.

  Valerie placed a bit of cheese onto a cracker and topped that with a piece of salami.

  “Where do you live now?” he asked. Anything to steer the conversation to a less erotic place. If his nuts ached any worse than they already were, he would soon be seeking an ice bath.

  “Just outside of D.C.,” Valerie said. “My sister and grandmother still live there. My grandmother was so tickled to find out my developer was building on the river. When she lived here, there was nothing but little shacks and fisheries on that part of the shore. She couldn’t imagine people with money living there, and then I told her how much the company paid to get those folks to sell their land. Her dentures fell out when she dropped her jaw.” Valerie laughed so hard that her shoulders shook, and her eyes lit up.

  She was so pretty when she laughed like that. It was a laugh that made him ponder about what other things she found funny so he could say them.

  It was the kind of laugh he wanted to watch from the other side of a table at a fancy restaurant or from the seat beside her at a baseball game. It was infectious and warm, and…and it made him worry. Restaurants and sporting events were places for dates, and he didn’t date.

  What is she doing to me?

  “What about you?” she asked. “You have Clay and your parents in Florida. Is that all the family you have?”

  He couldn’t lie. In spite of what Carine had suggested, he wasn’t going to hide the facts. He wasn’t ashamed, but he understood why he should tread carefully. “I’ve got an ex-wife who lives near me in one of those new condos I mentioned earlier and an eighteen-year-old son. He’s around…somewhere.”

  She stopped chewing.

  Tick, tick, boom?

  “How…long have you been divorced?”

  She tried to sound light but failed.

  Every woman he dated asked that.

  “Long enough that I’m not on the rebound,” he said levelly.

 
“Oh.” She bit down on the knuckle of her index finger and stared at him.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Go ahead and spit it out. If you want to ask a question, go ahead.”

  “It’s none of my business.”

  “We’ve already breached a hell of a lot of rules of etiquette tonight. What’s one more?”

  She cringed and fixed her stare on the plans, tracing the line of the river-facing wall with a finger. “How long were you married?”

  “Seventeen years.”

  “She sucked in some air and pulled her plate closer. “That’s…a long time. Were you only married once?”

  He grunted.

  Solitude wasn’t his choice. He would have married again and had a couple more kids if the right woman had stuck. No one had been right. He’d stopped looking.

  “Most of the divorced men I know should stay single indefinitely.” She laughed again, but it wasn’t like the other laughs. It was short and mirthless, and she wouldn’t meet his gaze.

  “Maybe you should keep better company,” he said dryly.

  “What’s that say about you?”

  “I guess I set myself up for that one.”

  She lifted one narrow shoulder in an elegant shrug and pushed a cracker around her plate.

  Their rapport was going south fast along with her mood, and he needed to fix it.

  No, he wanted to fix it.

  He didn’t want her to think badly of him. Normally, he wouldn’t have cared, but she intrigued him, and he wanted to see more of her. He wanted to learn what else they had in common besides having farmers’ stock and roots in the area. Just those two things put her in a class above most women he’d been involved with. Combined with her ability to hold him in a conversation, they put her in a class with Heidi.

  He poured a little more wine into Valerie’s glass and leaned his forearms onto the table across from her. “Do you think you can swing by my house tomorrow and take a look? If it helps to convince you, I’ll serve you a real meal.”

  “Damn.” She leaned against the cushioned backrest and groaned. “I don’t know. Tomorrow might be busy. I’ve got to get Carine back to her car and who knows how long it might take to get her home if an empty gas tank doesn’t turn out to be the problem. I’m in Shora, she’s in Elizabeth City, and you’re down on the sound. That’s a lot of driving.”

  “But you have the entire afternoon.”

  She picked up her wine and took a long sip, staring at him over the rim. Keeping him waiting.

  He hated that, but he probably deserved it.

  She drank half of the wine before she set the glass down and tented her fingers. “You know my schedule so well?”

  “I’m assuming. For all I know, you find lots of delicious trouble to get into on Saturday nights around here.”

  “Mm-hmm. Trouble with a capital T. There are some great bars up in Norfolk. Lots of military officers hang out there. I never have to pay for my own drinks. They’re so chivalrous.”

  “It’s not chivalry if they’re expecting to get something out of it.”

  “I’m not so naive to think they’re not. They just don’t get upset when they don’t.” She dragged her index finger around the rim of her glass again. “Are you going to get upset?”

  He picked up the glasses holding the plans down at the corners, rolled up the paper, and stuffed it back into its tube. “Only if you lead me on.”

  “I think I’ve been pretty clear about what I want and don’t want, so I can’t see where there’d be room for any false assumptions.”

  The thing about assumptions was that they were malleable things, shaped by quick judgments at specific moments of time. His assumptions about her were shifting already. Tomorrows always brought new perspectives, and for all he knew, he could decide she was worth pursuing.

  He wasn’t going to get his hopes up, though. That was always a mistake.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Carine peered out of her car window at Valerie and let out a dry chuckle. Valerie knew that sound was a precursor to oh-so-much bullshit.

  They’d poured a whole gallon of gas into that little car, waited a couple of minutes for it to hit the tank, and again, nothing happened. Obviously, the Miata’s problem wasn’t fuel-related.

  “Of course.” Valerie shook her head and pushed her sunglasses up her nose. “I woke up knowing that today was going to be rife with inconvenience. I felt it in my bones.”

  “You oughtta try to make a few bucks off that gift. Maybe join the Psychic Friends.” Clay rubbed tired-looking eyes with heels of his palms and sighed before stuffing his hands into his bathrobe pockets.

  “Did you have a late night, Clay?” Valerie asked, deadpan. “Were you up sampling the goods or just playing the part of the gracious host?”

  “Yes, maybe, and sure. Gotta be nice to the folks who pay my contractor invoices, right?” He widened the pale eyes that were so much like Tim’s, and she groaned inwardly.

  Try as she might not to think about Tim after he’d dropped her off in Shora, everything in her mind was only a couple of degrees of separation from him. When she’d thought about getting up early to help Carine deal with her car, her mind went next to Clay, whose property the vehicle was parked on. Of course, from there, Valerie’s train of thought went to what Tim had said about the kind of scenarios Clay put himself in—hinting that he was some kind of freak.

  And that made her wonder what kind of freak Tim was.

  Her thighs burned and pussy throbbed at the very thought of his sinful tongue and how she hadn’t wanted to say no to him. She’d wanted him so badly and had been depriving herself for too long.

  “Wanna hear about my night?” Clay asked.

  She pressed a hand to the back of her hot neck and rubbed it. “Uh, no. I’ll pass.”

  So curious, though.

  Just being in Clay’s orbit made her crave getting back into the thick of things—into dominance and submission, and other kinks she’d left unexplored.

  Maybe now I’ll know how to say no when I need to.

  She’d gotten to be an expert at saying no to people in everything in her life ranging from work to social outing to volunteering. She had to do what was best for her and her ambitions, and she didn’t allow herself to feel guilty about refusing someone. She’d let people push her to places she didn’t want to be in the past, and she wasn’t going to let that happen anymore. Maybe discretion was really possible.

  Eying her cautiously, Clay canted his head and rocked back on the heels of his bare feet.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Nothin’.”

  Bullshit.

  “Hey, Carine? I can pull my truck over and try to give it a jump,” Clay said, “but I don’t think it’ll make much of a difference. I feel like something’s not connecting between the gas tank and the starter.”

  “What does that mean?” Carine asked. “Isn’t there a lot of stuff between the gas tank and the starter?”

  “Yep. Open your wallet and prepare to bleed green, baby.”

  “I don’t have any green. I sell single-family homes at a very low commission. I’ve got some coins in my ashtray and some plastic money in my wallet, but real cash…” She let out a dry laugh and yanked the key out of the ignition. “Fresh out of it. Maybe you can earmark some funds from the next LDD event for my new car fund.”

  He scoffed. “Next thing you’re going to tell me is you can’t afford the admission fee.”

  “Is there a scholarship? If so, I’d like to apply.”

  “Maybe do me some favors and I’ll write it off.”

  “C-carnal favors?” Valerie asked in a thick voice.

  Confused, Clay furrowed his brow. “No. Why?”

  “Never mind.” Valerie leaned against Carine’s car window, and said gently, “Might be time to trade her in?”

  “Ugh.” Carine rolled up the window, got out, and then locked up. “I was hoping she’d live long enough for me to
get settled in Shora. I was going to use what I’m paying now for rent to my mother on the new car. I might have to change my plans a bit.”

  Clay scoffed. “I would. No way I’d get on the road in that thing in its current state. You’re setting yourself up to stall out on the highway get plowed by an eighteen-wheeler that can’t slow down. Journalists wouldn’t be able to publish the accident pictures in the weekly newspaper because there wouldn’t be anything left of your car, much less you.”

  “You’re a dick. I want my donations back.”

  “Nope. No take-backs. I don’t guarantee satisfaction, just a chance at finding someone to casually fuck and maybe get spanked by.”

  “And look how great that’s working out for me. Would it kill you to open this place up to fresh blood a little more often?”

  “You’re too picky. I guarantee that if you put on a blindfold and lower your expectations, you’d have a damn good evening. Let me set something up for you for next time.”

  “Nuh-uh.”

  Clay dragged his gaze over to Valerie.

  She put up her hands. “No way. Don’t get me mixed up in this. I’ve got no dogs in this fight.”

  “You sure about that? I heard through a very reputable grapevine that you didn’t get dropped off at Shora until around midnight, and the person witnessing the delivery would have sworn on a Bible that the silver F-350 in question belonged to one Timothy Dowd.”

  Shit.

  She was going to set fire to that grapevine at her earliest convenience.

  Carine narrowed her eyes at Valerie. “What were you and Tim doing until midnight?”

  Valerie straightened up and smoothed down her hair, though it didn’t really need it. There was no gel stronger than Crystal Hold Formula Number 5, and Valerie owned stock in the brand. “I don’t like your tone, Carine.”

  Clay’s chuckle was low and menacing. “Oh, shit. Well, well, well. Tim won’t kiss and tell, but I don’t think he’ll mind if you do, the cocky bastard.”

  Valerie rubbed the back of her neck again and tried—and probably failed—to walk casually to her car.

  The rabble followed.