“Missed you, bro.”
“Same.”
By six p.m. I had rocked my to-do list; all twenty-seven items checked off. Which was a big screw you to Boone—his unexpected appearance hadn’t affected my productivity at all.
Traffic wasn’t horrendous. The snowbirds hadn’t arrived en masse yet.
When I pulled up to my house, I grinned at my roommate Lu’s dirt-caked pickup, which was parked sideways in the drive. My neighbors in this upscale and trendy housing development wrinkled their noses at her big rig as if she used it to cart pigs around—although it did smell like shit whenever she used it to haul manure. I skirted the garage and entered the backyard through the gated side of the house.
Sure enough, Lu lounged by the pool. Topless.
“Eww, put those things away! I do not want a face full of tits when I ask you for a hug.”
Lu immediately slipped on a T-shirt and stood. At six feet two she was such a bruiser that she literally crushed me to her chest.
“What happened today that requires a momma bear hug?”
I sighed. She gave such great hugs. The type of affection I assumed other kids received from their mothers. My mom was a model-thin sack of toned flesh—not a squishy welcoming thing about her bony body.
I sighed again.
“Sierra?” Lu prompted.
“Let me change clothes and mix up a pitcher of margaritas first, okay?”
“Gotta be a doozy of a day if it calls for a pitcher.” She released me and smacked my ass. “Yell before you come back out, because the girls will be soaking up the sun.”
“Thanks for the tips—ha-ha.”
I opened the sliding glass door and cut through the kitchen, bypassing the great room and the foyer to climb a flight of stairs. No college student needed a six-bedroom, five-bathroom house, but the fire-sale price made it a killer investment. Since I’d bought the house with cash, I didn’t have a mortgage. Lu paid me a couple of hundred bucks a month that I put toward property taxes. She handled the yard work—it was a happy fact that Lu worked part-time as a landscaper. So far I’d avoided thinking about Lu graduating in May. While I wanted my BFF to seize the great opportunities she’d dreamt about since freshman year, I also hoped she’d stick around. Then we could do this adulting thing together, although I had a two-year head start in the working world.
In my bedroom, I kicked off my heels and ditched my clothes for my bikini. After twisting my hair into a messy bun, I returned downstairs to whip up a batch of margaritas. I opened the sliding glass door and yelled, “Incoming!” before I grabbed the tray.
Lu had her top on and she’d cleared a space on the table between the loungers. I handed her a glass, poured one for myself and lowered into the chaise. One long sip of cold, boozy, limey goodness and I felt the tension melting away.
“Killer margs, S.”
“Thanks.”
“So…your day. Were you dealing with Bridezilla again?”
I groaned. My mother’s impending marriage reception resembled a circus. I had not-so-jokingly told Lu that my mom actually considered hiring Cirque de Soleil performers for the entertainment. Mom hadn’t laughed when I pointed out that no one wanted to dance to the sounds of flying trapezes and limbs being contorted. I hadn’t heard from her since. No surprise there. Our rocky relationship had crumbled completely after she’d returned from France and I did not miss her—or her petty, nasty bullshit. “No. Since the wedding is in a few weeks she must be on the downhill stretch and anything she changes now will cost Barnacle Bill big bucks.”
Lu snorted. “You will slip up and call him Barnacle Bill to his face one of these days.”
“No doubt.” My mother’s husband-to-be had earned his millions from the fishing boat companies he owned up and down the Gulf of Mexico. He’d retired to Arizona, away from the water. Then he started golfing as if it was his religion. He and Mom had a meet-cute when she accidentally ran over his foot on the golf course. Bill was immediately smitten by my mother’s youth and beauty—and the fact she didn’t care if he golfed seven days out of seven. She in turn was completely smitten with his money. A true match made in heaven.
“It’s not Mommy Dearest, then… Is Dharma being a dickhead again?”
“Dharma”—the codename I’d assigned to Greg, the asshole business operations manager for Daniels Property Management—“is greasing up his pole, probably with his hair, at one of those Club Med type resorts for old single dudes. I have an entire week off from him.”
Lu held her glass over to mine for a silent toast.
“My day took a bizarre turn right before lunch when Boone West waltzed into my office.”
Her white-blonde pigtails bobbed when she swung her head toward me. “You’re shitting me.”
“I am not shitting you at all.”
“What the ever-lovin’ fuck? He sauntered in just out of the blue?”
I squirmed. Drained my drink and reached for more. I hadn’t told Lu I’d run into Boone in Wyoming as I’d chalked it up as a fluke.
“I recognize that fidgety-ass avoidance behavior of yours, ho-bag. Spill.”
“I ended up at the doctor’s office in Sundance. Sergeant West was there for medical training. Total fucking shock to see him, so at first I pretended not to know him…” I told her everything.
By the time I finished she was laughing so hard she couldn’t hold onto her margarita glass. “Omigod, S, that is classic. You passed out and he had to carry you? And then he gave you a shot in the ass?”
“Living life as a class act, that’s me,” I retorted.
“Does Boone look good?” Lu asked.
“He looks better than ever,” I said automatically. The only comparison I had between Old Boone and Second Edition Boone was in my head. It’d bugged me not to have any pictures of the two of us. He’d always refused. I had one grainy shot I’d secretly snapped of him as he’d run laps around the track at the high school. But I’d lost that one in a data crash.
“What did he want?”
“No idea.”
“Liar.”
“Fine. He wants to…talk.”
Lu refilled her glass. “About what?”
I blinked. “I don’t know.”
“Then maybe you ought to…talk to him and find out.”
“Or maybe I ought to skip a conversation with him and just stab myself in the heart to save him the trouble of doing it to me again.”
I felt Lu staring at me. “It still hurts that much? What happened between you two seven years ago?”
Yes. No. Shit. Maybe. I sighed. “When you say it like that, it sounds ridiculous.”
“Then I’ll toss it out there that by not talking to him, you’re not allowing either of you a chance for closure. All you’re doing is holding a grudge, and that’s not like you.”
“I don’t think he wants closure, Lu.”
“Well, duh. The man followed you from Wyoming to Arizona.” She started singing Michael Jackson’s “Wanna Be Startin’ Something.”
“Knock it off or I’ll punch you in the throat.”
She laughed. “Just calm your tits, girlfriend.” She slurped her drink. “Besides, why would that be a bad idea?”
I tipped my head back. The sky had taken on the white film that stretched across the horizon prior to sunset. Sometimes I missed seeing the stars. Stargazing had been one of Boone’s favorite things. And while he marveled at the stars, I marveled at him. My epic crush had been so embarrassingly obvious to him that I still blushed when I thought about it.
“Why are you dodging the question?” Lu prompted.
“I’m not. I’m just creating an ordered list of why that’s a bad idea. First of all, he’s only here for two weeks. Which means he’s looking for a fling. I can’t do that. Not with him.”
“Why not?”
“What if I fell for him again, knowing he’ll leave again? Been there, done that.” I had the scars to prove it—even if they were only visible to me.
/> “So just hanging out and rekindling your friendship…?”
I shook my head. “He wasn’t looking at me like he wanted to kick back and watch reruns of Two Angry Beavers.” The memory hit me with a wave of happy nostalgia I hadn’t allowed for a long time. We’d both laughed our asses off at that stupid cartoon. I’d never met anyone who got the offbeat humor the way he did. I’d never met any man who got me the way he did either.
“Maybe we should deal with your angry beaver.”
I faced her. “Omigod. I cannot believe you said that!”
Lu aimed her straw at me. “Yes, you can. Your dilemma is easy to solve.”
“Let me guess…your suggestion is that I fuck him.”
“Yes.” She held up her hand to stop my automatic protest. “Just hear me out.”
Tempting to plug my ears and start singing “Never Gonna Get It” at the top of my lungs. Not that Lu would understand the reference; my eclectic taste in music baffled her as much as my penchant for watching weird cartoons.
“You’ve always wondered what sex would be like with him.”
“And that is exactly why I shouldn’t do it.”
“You are a ‘one and done’ chick anyway. Why would it be different with him?”
“It just would be,” I said stubbornly.
“Because you’re afraid he’d be rubbish in bed?”
“Been watching reruns of Absolutely Fabulous again, have you, dahling?” I said in my best British accent.
“Eh, sod off, ye bloody wanker.” She stirred her drink. “I’m serious, S.”
“So am I. What if he’s like…unbelievable in bed? Then I’d be left wanting more”—again—“and I’d worry he just fucked me because he always wondered what sex would be like with me.” I shook my head and didn’t voice my other concern; what if Boone was disappointed in my skills between the sheets? That’d be another blow I might not recover from. “It’s better to wonder and leave it at that. Can we please drop it now?”
She sighed dramatically. “You are such a ballbuster when you’ve got a financial spreadsheet in front of you. But with personal stuff? I never would’ve pegged you as such a chickenshit, McKay.”
I slurped my drink. “Sure you have.”
“When?” Lu demanded.
“Spring break when I refused to get a Pussy Galore tattoo with you.”
“Which makes zero sense since that summer you got that”—she gestured wildly—“brand thingy on your hip. Pussy Galore? Way more meaningful.”
I’d succumbed to my cousin Keely’s badgering and gotten inked with the official McKay cattle brand. “I told you. It’s a family thing.”
“Nice try at changing the subject, but back to you throwing Boone a bone.”
“Awesome alliteration, Baby Spice. I thought we were dropping this.”
“Not until I get my point across.” She tapped her finger on the rim of her cup. “He wants the V, you want the D, so you need to do this. Fuck him one time and get him out of your system. Then you can move on. That way it’ll never get to the stage that his dick isn’t doing it for you anymore and there’s no risk for the burn-out factor.”
I stared at her, thankful for the bizarre turn in the conversation. “Burn-out factor for his…dick?”
“Yep.”
“Is that even a thing?”
Lu nodded. “It’s why I’m not in a relationship.” She drained her margarita. “I’m a dick connoisseur. I like ’em all—fat, thin, long, short, wide, thick, cut, uncut, ruddy, smooth. There are so many colors and sizes, how can I limit myself to just one? And when I think about all the dick I’ve sampled, I feel a little slutty. I begin to think maybe I should try and settle down with the one dick that fits me above all others.”
“You’re comparing your va-jay-jay to a glass slipper? Find the ideal fit and you’ve got a dick you can commit to?”
“Exactly! But how will I find the prince of all penises if I’m not actively looking?”
I couldn’t fault her logic. And if she wanted a different dick every night, who was I to judge? “Your plan to prowl for the perfect pecker is plausible.”
“Now who’s the alliteration queen?”
I stood, putting an end to the discussion. “I’m hitting the pool for a quick swim before I decide whether to make another pitcher of margaritas or whip up a batch of white chocolate chip macadamia nut cookies.”
“Count me out for the booze. I have a quiz tomorrow and I have to study.”
“I don’t miss doing homework.”
“I won’t miss it either, but not everyone can get a bachelor’s degree in three years.” Lu hip-checked me as she passed by.
My reflex to correct her dried on my tongue. I’d finished my degree in three and a half years, partially from taking the basic classes at the University of Wyoming during my senior year of high school, partially because I’d grown up Gavin Daniels’ daughter. I CLEPed out of a shit ton of general business classes. And Dad accused me of not paying attention to him.
Right before I submerged myself in the pool, Lu said, “We’re not done dissecting this dealio with Boone, S. Because it’s not going away.”
Seemed to be a theme in my life today.
Déjà vu day two.
Cooling my heels in the reception area, waiting for Sierra to grant me an audience.
Restless as fuck but pretending to be chill.
The magazines stacked on the glass coffee table didn’t interest me.
I hadn’t bothered to try and charm the snippy receptionist after she played the “do you have an appointment?” game that I couldn’t win.
Yesterday I’d dressed to impress—not in a suit, but in casual clothes that broadcast my laid-back, yet professional vibe. I’d skipped that shit today. The trick to breaking down the wall Sierra had built between us was to show her that I hadn’t changed. Remind her of the worn-jeans-and-T-shirt-wearing guy she used to know.
Finally, Sierra’s office door opened and she sauntered toward me.
I immediately stood. Sweet Jesus. She fucking rocked business casual. The black dress sculpted the curve of her breasts and her torso, hugging her hips. The bottom flared out above her knees, drawing attention to those long, shapely legs. She hadn’t worn heels and I loomed over her by a good three inches.
“You didn’t used to be this much taller than me.”
I shrugged. “I grew a few inches after high school.”
“You showing up again today is part of your ‘I’m a burr’ plan to waste my valuable time?”
“You dismissed me yesterday before you let me get to the reason I’m here.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “So this isn’t a social call?”
“No, ma’am. I am here on business. And I’d rather discuss this in private.”
Her suspicion remained when she tersely said, “Follow me.” Wheeling around, she headed back to her office.
That ass. Man. I followed her swaying hips and managed not to be focused on her backside when she faced forward to rest her butt against the front edge of the desk. She didn’t even invite me to sit. “So you’re here on business?”
“Yes.”
“What kind of business are you in the market for?”
Dirty business, funny business, monkey business, me giving you the business. I told the twelve-year-old boy inside me to shut the hell up. “I’d like you to show me apartments, condos and house rentals for an army friend who’s moving here.”
She studied me. “You don’t have the first fucking clue about what my job entails at Daniels Property Management, do you?”
One minute in and I’d already screwed up. “Kyler said you were in real estate.”
“So naturally you thought I was a…real estate agent?”
Do not answer, dumbass. Do not even nod your fucking head.
“Was that why you were impressed with my corner office?”
“Clearly I screwed up in that assumption. So please enlighten me about what you do.
”
Without breaking eye contact, Sierra reached behind her for a business card and flicked it at me.
I flipped it around, hoping the text didn’t swim. Big, bold black letters on a cream background read:
Sierra McKay
Executive Vice President
Commercial and Industrial Property Expansion Specialist
Daniels Property Management
I looked at her. “Impressive. What does the title mean?”
She flashed her teeth. “That I don’t drive clients around showing them residential properties.”
Ouch.
“But feel free to keep my business card in case…your friend needs to hire a company to oversee a full remodel or restoration of his commercial property. I specialize in coordinating all aspects of revitalizing retail spaces—any size from six hundred square feet to sixty thousand square feet.”
I tucked the business card in my front pocket after making sure it listed her contact number. “To be honest, I didn’t even know that was a thing.”
“A very real, very complicated thing which doesn’t leave me time to act as a real estate guide for you or anyone else.” She pushed up from the desk. “My assistant, Nikki, will give you a list of reputable Realtors we deal with.”
“So that’s it?” I said tightly.
“No BS, Boone. What do you really want from me?”
“Professionally? I want a Phoenix native to help me navigate all the suburbs and figure out the best, safest and most affordable place for my friend to live. You are obviously an expert in the real estate field—which, yes, I mistakenly took to mean you could show me specific apartments, condos and houses for rent. But your skill set being way above that pay grade doesn’t change the fact I still would like your help.”
“Why are you pressing me on this?”
Think fast, man. “Because I trust you. If there’s no commission on the line then you can be completely honest about my options.”
“You mean your friend’s options,” she said sharply.
Fuck. I almost blew that. “Yeah. You can help me narrow down my buddy Raj’s choices.”
“Why does Raj trust you so much?”
“Because I’m trustworthy.” Except you’re lying like a motherfucker right now, aren’t you? And what is going to happen when she finds out? I’d worry about that later; right now I had her on the hook.
Unbreak My Heart (Rough Riders Legacy Book 1) Page 4
