I Flipping Love You

by Helena Hunting

  I bark out a laugh. This is the Pierce I’m used to. I send him a message in response.

  Rian: I’m sorry yesterday was so bad. I’m assuming lunch is no longer an option, but maybe you’d be up for an afternoon snack.

  CHAPTER 19

  BABY BROTHER TANTRUMS

  PIERCE

  It’s a gorgeous afternoon. The sun is shining. There’s a warm breeze coming off the water. I’d like to say I’m enjoying the awesome weather on this fine afternoon, but I’m not. I’m reading over legal documents. I’ve reread the same page four damn times and nothing is sticking in my head. I’ve taken four extra-strength painkillers and I’m still nursing a hangover. It doesn’t matter if the bourbon is expensive or not, it still makes for one hell of a pounding headache the day after you drink an entire bottle of it.

  Yesterday blew.

  Today blows even harder, and not just because I’m nursing an epic hangover.

  My father called me yesterday morning, demanding that I make the trip to the city to meet with him and the team of lawyers he has working on the botched patent.

  My plan had been to talk to him about my future career plans once we were done sorting things out, and how I’m not so sure law was where I wanted to focus my attention anymore. Unfortunately, the meeting didn’t go well.

  The blow-up Amalie knockoff dolls are still being sold on several porn shop sites and my dad is pissed. And of course, all of this is my fault. I tried to tell him this wasn’t the McDonald’s of law, and that things don’t happen overnight. He also didn’t appreciate it when I pointed out that we’d had a spike in doll sales post blow-up doll fiasco.

  Even with the small blip, sales are still declining overall. Lawson’s efforts in social media outreach and our affiliation with various charities may be slowing it down, but we continue to see a consistent downward turn in the Amalie Doll market. My current fuckup has not helped us recover those losses, only slow the inevitable decline a bit.

  After eight hours in his office with zero fucking progress and a ferocious headache, I figured I should make a point of stopping to see my mother. She usually accompanies my dad when he has business in the city.

  It had been a couple of weeks since I’d visited, and I don’t like going too long without seeing her. She had a cancer scare a few years back, and it made me aware that she wasn’t going to be around forever, and that I needed to spend time with her while I could—the quality kind.

  When I mentioned stopping by their New York condo, my father had adjusted his tie, cleared his throat, and looked anywhere but at me when he told me she wasn’t there. It took another three minutes of prodding before he finally admitted that she was on a trip with a friend.

  Which means they’d had a fight. Likely over the sex dolls.

  I don’t remember a time when my parents’ relationship wasn’t tumultuous. The two of them have always had a difficult time with balance and confrontation, and clearly this situation has created conflict neither of them can handle.

  The first thing I wanted to do when I left the office was call Rian. I don’t know why. We’d only been doing the dating thing for a couple of weeks. It wasn’t like we were at the point where I could dump my personal problems on her, but I kind of wanted to, which unnerved me. Pushing her buttons and getting under her skin would lead to sex, telling her about my garbage heap of a day would lead to the kind of emotional connection I think scared the crap out of her.

  I’d been on the way out of the office, mentally composing a text to Rian, certain I could convince her to get together tonight if I could figure out the right way to entice her.

  I’d been about to step into the elevator when I came face-to-face with my ex-fiancée. And she’d been with her new fiancé—who happens to be a partner at the firm. Not a surprise, really.

  The longer I’m out of the office, the more I want to find a way to keep it that way. I was pleased that seeing Stacey didn’t particularly hurt in the sense that I missed her or wanted her back. She and I weren’t right for each other.

  I wasn’t upset that she was engaged again; it had been years. It was the entire situation—the meeting with my dad, my mom having taken off somewhere, likely as a result of me, and this current clusterfuck where I felt trapped in a job I didn’t want anymore—and there was my ex, all happy and glowing with her stupid-ass balding fiancé.

  I suppose the one positive conclusion I came to is that Rian seems to be the exact opposite of Stacey. She’s aware I have money and doesn’t seem to give two shits either way. Regardless, I don’t want to get screwed over again, so I figure it’s probably in my best interest not to offer too much information on my family’s financial status for the time being. I like how things are with Rian, and I want to keep them that way. It works for the both of us.

  So when I returned to the Hamptons last night, Lawson and I got into the booze. Except he had two drinks and I finished the bottle. I’d texted Rian. Not a shining moment.

  And then this morning I saw what looked like her car pass by while I was self-flagellating with the lawn mower. The Acura, not the Buick.

  When I’d pulled up her contact, I’d noticed the messages from last night. All unanswered. As I read them over, I wanted to punch myself in the face. There was no way to delete them, so I called and left a voicemail. Not the best voicemail, but then again, I was nursing a hangover and half my brain cells were still on vacation.

  Once I finished punishing myself with lawn mowing, I decided to shower and take a walk down the street. Mostly because I wanted to check and see if I was right about the Acura.

  And I was.

  Two hours later, she still hasn’t responded. I tried working on the reno, but using a hammer makes it feel like my head is going to explode, and I almost smashed my thumb twice in a ten-minute span, so instead I’m trying—and failing—to review legal documents for my father.

  “What the fuck?” Lawson slams the sliding door open, making the ache in my head flare. “You need to come outside and see this.”

  “Can you not yell, please?” I rub my temple and down the warm orange juice. So far it’s not doing much to help cure this stupid hangover.

  “This is bullshit,” Lawson yells.

  Trip makes his dying Ewok sound and runs upstairs into my bedroom to hide.

  “Hey, asshole, you’re scaring my dog. He’s already got PTSD; you don’t need to go and give him a damn anxiety attack with the door slamming and yelling.”

  Lawson spins around, his usual bright, jovial smile replaced by a sneer and narrowed eyes. “I’m not sure if you’ve forgotten or not, but this happens to be my house. You’re a guest and welcome to go back to your penthouse in Manhattan at any time.”

  “Don’t push my buttons, Law. I’m not in the mood for your righteous bullshit.”

  “You need to check this out.” He grits his teeth and crosses to the window, motioning me to follow him. “Look at that.”

  I glance down the beach, trying to understand what’s got him so riled up until I note the SUTTER REALTY sign, and a woman currently hammering said sign into the lawn. Rian’s busy typing away on her phone. Ironically, mine buzzes from across the room as she slips it back in her purse.

  “I didn’t even see a FOR SALE sign and it’s already sold! How the hell is that possible?”

  He’s got me there. I have no idea. “Why don’t you go ask?”

  “You ask. You’re fucking one of them. Shouldn’t you know what’s coming on the market? What’d you do, premature ejaculate or come in her eye or something?”

  “You’re disgusting.”

  He jabs a finger in their direction. “You need to find out what’s going on.”

  “No, I don’t.” He doesn’t need to know about the drunk texts and the message I already left her that have gone unanswered. Although, I am very tempted to go out there and find out why exactly she’s ignoring me today, other than the obvious reasons—like my sexting suggestion.

  “Did you lose your bal
ls or something? Go find out what the deal is.”

  “I don’t understand why you even care. We bought a house a couple of weeks ago. I can’t renovate two at the same time anyway.”

  “It’s the principle. How the hell can we trust those two if they’re not even telling us what houses are up for sale? They’re shady.”

  “They’re not shady.” At least Rian isn’t. Marley maybe. She did hit my car and leave the scene of the crime.

  He points at the SOLD sign. “You can’t tell me that’s not some shady deal going on.”

  “That’s exactly what we did when we bought the Franklin bungalow,” I point out.

  “Marley knows I’m interested in more beachfront property. She knows to call me if there’s a whiff of an idea that someone is selling. I’m going over there.”

  “You might want to calm down first.”

  “Fuck that.” He stomps across the living room, gunning for the sliding door again.

  “Don’t slam it!” I follow after him. I’d like to check on Trip, but I don’t think Lawson’s going to enter any kind of discussion with Marley and Rian with a level head. I also don’t think he’s adequately prepared for Rian’s sass.

  I squint as I follow him out into the hot, sunny afternoon. I’d go back in for my shades, but he’s already yelling.

  “Hey!” He gestures wildly to the sign. “What the hell is this?”

  Rian turns slowly. Despite her sunglasses, I can already see her arched, unimpressed brow. I shake my head at my brother, because going toe-to-toe with Rian isn’t something he’s thought through.

  Rian gives him her sweetest smile. “It’s a sold sign.”

  Lawson glares at her and then turns his attention to Marley. “Why didn’t I know about this?”

  She shrugs. “It was a private sale, like the Franklin bungalow.”

  Rian’s gaze moves to me, the dip of her chin tells me she’s checking me out. I glance down and realize after my shower I didn’t bother to put on anything besides a pair of board shorts. They’re floral Hawaiian print. And these don’t have the usual built-in twig-and-berry holder, so if I happen to get a hard-on, which is likely since Rian looks entirely too delicious, it’s not going to be easy to hide. At least the flowers sort of act like camouflage.

  “Those are pretty,” Rian says with a half smile.

  I grin back. “So are you.”

  Lawson throws me a disgusted look. “I would’ve put an offer in on this place. I would’ve outbid whoever bought it. Talk to the buyers and see what they want for it.”

  “They won’t sell,” Rian says confidently.

  “Everyone has a price, sweetheart,” Lawson snaps.

  Her expression goes flat and she crosses her arms over her chest. She loathes being called sweetheart. “I can tell you with one hundred percent certainty that nothing you can offer is going to convince the buyers to sell to you.”

  “You can’t know that. I want to talk to them.”

  “You are talking to them, and there’s no offer that will have us handing over the property to you.”

  “Wait. What?” Lawson’s confusion is priceless. I would be shocked, but I know this is something Rian’s been working toward, so it’s not a huge surprise they finally made it happen.

  “We are the owners.” Marley motions between herself and Rian.

  Lawson’s jaw snaps shut. I don’t get why he’s so pissed off about this. It’s one property, and it needs a serious facelift. We don’t have the time to take on another project with the Franklin renovations just getting started. As it is, I’m hiring out more than half of the work so we can get in on the vacation rental market by July, and that’s pushing it.

  He points an accusatory finger at Marley. “We had a deal.”

  Marley shrugs, blithe. “You’re not my only client, and there will be other houses on the beach for sale. There always are.”

  “You’re fucking fired.” He turns and stomps off. He’s like a teenage girl with his temper tantrums.

  I shake my head. Annoyed. Frustrated. As if the last two days weren’t bad enough. Now this. “I’m sorry. I’ll talk to him.”

  Marley gathers up her bag of tools and slings it over her shoulder. “Don’t bother. No offense, but he’s a pain in the ass to work with.”

  This, I know. Especially since we bought the most recent property. He’s been obsessive about buying more, checking the listings surrounding the Mission Mansion. While I’m on board with this new plan because it has the potential to give me an out from patent law, provided the income is consistent, his attitude about it is puzzling. I need to find out what’s eating at him.

  “Anyway, always a pleasure.” Marley looks from me to Rian and back again, her eyebrow half raised.

  A silent conversation takes place between them and Rian glances in my direction.

  “Are you busy? Do you have a minute to talk?” Circumstances aren’t ideal, but this would be a great time to apologize in person for the drunk texts from last night.

  “No. She’s not busy.” Marley gives Rian a knowing smile. “I’ll meet up with you in a bit.” She waves brightly and practically skips up the path and around the side of the house.

  Rian crosses her arms over her chest. “We don’t owe you or your brother anything.”

  “Well, you owe me a dinner date since we never made it out of the house last time, but in terms of this,” I nod at the SOLD sign, “I agree. I don’t know why he has such a bug up his ass about this, and honestly I don’t care.”

  She seems shocked at the lack of fight on my part.

  “What’s your plan for this place?”

  “We’re flipping it.” Excitement makes her voice shake.

  “You came up with the capital.”

  Her fingers flutter to her lips. “We did.”

  “That’s fantastic.” She wears her pride with class. “We should celebrate.” I wrap my arms around her, lifting her off the ground.

  She shrieks and laughs, her smile melting away my stress. Rian is exactly what I need today, the perfect antidote to my bad mood.

  CHAPTER 20

  COUNTER OFFERS

  RIAN

  Pierce runs inside to change and returns a minute later—sadly he’s covered his magnificent chest with a T-shirt and he’s changed into cargo shorts, but he’s still gorgeous, so I’ll take it. Trip follows behind him, tail down between his legs, eyes sad and anxious.

  He stays close to Pierce’s legs when they reach the bottom of the stairs. “Is he okay?”

  “Just nervous. Lawson’s temper tantrum freaked the poor guy out.” He scratches behind Trip’s ear.

  “Does he have tantrums like that often?”

  “Not typically. He’s had a bug up his ass the past week. I don’t really know what’s going on there.”

  I take off my strappy-heeled sandals and fix them to my purse while Pierce slips his feet into bright-green running shoes, and we hit the beach.

  I revel in the soft warmth of the sand between my toes. One day I hope we’ll be able to live on the beach again, not just buy and sell houses here. “So what happened to make yesterday so bad?”

  He regards me carefully for a moment. “I’m sorry about the messages last night. I wasn’t in the best headspace. The reason I have time off this summer is because I made a mistake with a patent; it caused a few issues and we’re still sorting them out. I was stuck in a meeting I didn’t want any part of for most of the day, and we made virtually no progress.” We pause as Trip leans to one side and marks a bush, no leg lift necessary. “And then I ran into my ex.” He’s not looking at me as he says this. His gaze is focused off in the distance and the words come slowly, like they’re being dragged out of him.

  My chest grows tight; it feels a lot like jealousy. “Is this the three-year relationship you were in?”

  His eyes shoot to mine, surprise quirking his brow.

  “It was on your questionnaire for the dating site.”

  “Right. How coul
d I forget about that? The one that deems us pretty much as incompatible as two people can get?” I’m sure he means it jokingly, but there’s a dark bite to his words. He shakes his head a little. “Sorry. I’m being an asshole. But yeah, it was the three-year relationship.”

  “It ended badly, then?” I don’t know if relationships ever end well. Mine never have.

  He stuffs his hands into his pockets, seeming suddenly vulnerable. “We were engaged. She broke it off.”

  That’s not at all what I expected to hear. I stupidly assumed he was the one who couldn’t commit. Maybe I should know better by now, considering the way he’s relentlessly pursued me. “I’m so sorry.” I want to ask why she broke it off. What happened to make a woman walk away from him, but I don’t, because I like that he’s opening up to me without any prompting. I want this connection with him, even if it makes me uncomfortable.

  “It was a long time ago. I’m over it. It’s not like I’m still hung up on her or anything. She proved to be untrustworthy and a ladder climber, so I’m much better off without her in my life.” He licks his lips and shakes his head. “What was the point of me telling you this?”

  “Why yesterday was so bad,” I remind him.

  “Oh, right.” He runs a hand through his hair, his smile sheepish. “The meeting, some stuff with my family, running into my ex … just a shit day. I was looking for a ray of sunshine to make it better.”

  “Ray of sunshine? That’s a first.” I drag my toes through the sand. “I meant to message you this morning, but then we had the meeting with the Paulsons. I didn’t expect it to go so long.”

  “I can see why you wouldn’t have, messaged me back, I mean.”

  “I wasn’t ignoring you on purpose.”

  We pass beach house sixty-nine. The last time I was here we had counter sex. Clearly this attraction isn’t waning, and I’m past caring that we’ve gone about this the opposite of normal. What makes me nervous is that I want to spend more time with him, and more time means I’ll eventually have to reciprocate his sharing with pieces of myself.